The Devil's Bride
By Rapwizzy Debaron
Episode 76: The Throne That Bleeds
The battlefield was silent.
Ashes floated through the air like snow, painting the scorched earth gray. Heaven's army had retreated—wounded, humiliated. Michael had been taken by Gabriel, bleeding but alive, and no angel dared rise again that day.
In the heart of the wasteland, Lucian stood tall. His eyes flicked to Seraphina, who held her blade like a queen, her face streaked with blood and soot. But her gaze was steady, focused. She was no longer just the Devil's Bride.
She was a symbol.
A rebellion.
"Now what?" she asked, her voice quiet beneath the groaning wind.
Lucian turned slowly, facing the east. "We march to the Celestial Throne."
Gasps spread through their army—demons, outcasts, even the fallen angels who had defected. The Throne was sacred, unreachable… until now.
"Lucian," Gabriel said carefully, appearing from the mist, his tunic blood-soaked. "If you do this—"
"Then we change the order of creation," Lucian said. "Heaven has ruled in silence. It's time someone spoke."
Seraphina stepped beside him. "We're not going to burn it, are we?"
Lucian smirked. "No. We're going to sit on it."
The march began.
A week through the Wailing Pass, where shadows whispered secrets of the first wars. A week across the Frozen Howl, where time itself bent in the wind. They lost soldiers to madness, to frost, to traps set by divine guardians.
But still, they marched.
On the fourteenth night, they reached the Gates of Radiance—massive, golden, trembling with holy power. Beyond them was the Celestial Palace. And at its center, the Throne.
It pulsed like a living heart.
Lucian stepped forward, but Seraphina stopped him. "This is where prophecy ends and destiny begins," she whispered.
The gates creaked open.
Inside, angels knelt—not to fight, but to surrender. Some dropped their weapons. Others wept. None stood against them.
The Throne waited.
Lucian approached slowly. Each step sent thunder rolling through the heavens. When he reached the base of the steps, he paused. Turned.
"Seraphina," he said, voice raw. "Come with me."
Her eyes widened. "The Throne is yours."
He shook his head. "Not without you."
Together, they ascended.
He sat first, the Throne accepting him in a blaze of black fire. Then she sat beside him, her hand in his, and the flames turned silver.
A new age was born.
The Celestial Court reformed in their image.
But deep within the shadows, in a realm forgotten by time, the true enemy stirred. One that neither Heaven nor Hell had spoken of. The First Flame.
And it wanted the Throne back.
To be continued…
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