The two monsters

Before she ever crossed borders, she crossed a line no other dared—Into the land of the dead, where love still burned.
The Lover from Hell had no court, no soldiers, no anthem.Only fire.Only grief.And at the center of it all—a grave. Small, unmarked. Surrounded by scorched roses that never died.
She had heard the stories. A soldier once human, now king of ruin. A being who could tear heaven in half.
But when she found him...
...he wasn’t what she expected.
There he was—kneeling.
Like a statue mourning a god, motionless. His armor cracked. His burning wing folded inward. A soldier’s helmet shadowed his face.
A sword stood buried in front of the grave like a monument.
And he didn’t move.
Not when she stepped close.Not when the ash clung to her gloves.Not even when she spoke.
“I’ve heard of you,” she whispered, her voice as soft as silk. “I came to see if the rumors were true.”
Stillness.
She let her beauty swell. Her presence. Her power.Any man—even monsters—would break. Would worship.
She stepped closer, lips curling into a smile. “You’ve knelt long enough. Why don’t you rise… for me?”
That’s when he moved.
Not like a lover. Not like prey.
But like death.
In less than a blink, his sword sang through the air, stopping just inches from her throat. The ground cracked beneath her feet.
His eyes, hidden beneath the helmet, were unseen—But she could feel them.Cold.Hollow.Burning.
“I kneel,” he said, voice rough like rusted iron, “for the only soul that mattered.”
He stood, the sword’s tip still hovering.“You are not her.”
She didn’t run. Couldn’t.
For the first time since her own death… she felt fear.
But he did not strike.Instead, he turned, walked back to the grave, and knelt again.
She stayed there, frozen.
Then, quietly—she sat a few paces away.
She never tried to seduce him again.