The moment the word "yes" left my lips, the air around me became heavy with tension
It wasn't the suffocating, sulfurous weight lifting, no, that remained. But something shifted. The very fabric of the realm seemed to tear apart, as if the shadows themselves had drawn in a breath.
Lucifer, my betrothed smiled. Not the cruel, mocking smirk from before, but something quieter. More dangerous.
"Good," he said, and the word curled around me like smoke.
He snapped his fingers.
The apothecary shelves lining the walls dissolved into darkness, replaced by towering obsidian arches. The floor beneath us smoothed into polished black marble, veined with threads of gold that pulsed like living things. And at the center of it all, an altar materialized, a jagged, beautiful thing, carved with symbols that made my eyes ache to look at.
My pulse hammered. This is really happening.
Lucifer offered me his arm. "Shall we?"
I hesitated.
His gaze sharpened. "Having second thoughts?"
I swallowed. "No." (A lie. A thousand second thoughts.) "But I—" I gestured helplessly at my dress, still the simple linen shift I'd died in, stained with dirt and crushed herbs. "I'm hardly dressed for a wedding."
He laughed, low and rich. "Ah, my love. You forget where you are."
A flick of his wrist, and my tattered gown melted away. In its place, a dress of deepest crimson wrapped around me—silk so fine it felt like water against my skin, embroidered with threads of black and gold. The bodice clung, the sleeves draped, the skirts pooled like spilled wine. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn.
And it terrified me.
Lucifer's eyes darkened as he looked me over. "Perfect."
He led me to the altar. A demon I recognized waited there while the other demon's gathered round the alter, a scowl was plastered on his face, as if he dissaproved of me.
"Place your hand here," he murmured, guiding my palm onto the page. His fingers laced through mine, burning hot. "And repeat after me."
The vows were not in any language I knew. The words we're foreign but I said them anyways. Each syllable sealing my faith as the devil's wife.
When it was done, Lucifer leaned down and kissed me, feral and demanding until all the air nearly got knocked out from my lungs, he didn't stop until the demon cleared his throat. Was this how the consummation would be? Fear gripped me but I tried to appear calm on the surface.
And then it was over.
He pulled back, thumb brushing my lower lip. "There," he whispered. "Now you're mine."
The weight of those words settled over me. Not a threat. A fact.
I was the Devil's wife.
And somewhere, beyond the borders of Hell, my people were finally free and that's all that mattered.