Azalea_Belrose

Angel thought the world would be hers to explore when she turned twenty.  She can finally be free from the gilded cage her overprotective father built for her.

But she was mistaken! Her 20th birthday marked the day she lost everything, including the freedom she so desperately craved. It was the day she fell into the hands of her father's enemy, to atone for his sins.

Leoric has meticulously planned his revenge for many years.  When that day came, he thought he had everything under control.  The man who killed his father was behind bars, and the empire he painstakingly built fell into his hands ... including his only daughter.

He planned to force his new bride to entertain his friends on their wedding night.  That should force her to a status lower than an escort, which should humiliate her and shame her father.  That should usher her into hell.

His perfect plan of revenge was ruined by a mysterious mishap. They found themselves stranded in a desert in an unfamiliar world after their yacht was sucked into a vortex.

Later, they discovered that they were in a parallel universe ruled by dark forces. The only way to return is to offer a tribute to the country's supreme leader—a virgin bride!

Where would they get a virgin?  Wait, isn't Angel a virgin?

As Leoric and his companions traveled across the treacherous landscapes of the enigmatic Astralis, he found himself falling for his wife, who seemed to have transformed after falling into the sea on their wedding night.

On a starry night on top of the peak of Mount Anabu, Leoric gazed tenderly at his wife, who looked ethereal, radiated a mystical aura, and whispered...  

"To hell with the supreme leader and going back.  You can only be mine!  Let us rule Astralis!"

The Tribute Bride

The Sunawins gathered at the entrance of their settlement, the warm desert wind carrying hushed murmurs among the crowd. The twilight sky stretched vast above them, painted in swirls of gold and deep crimson as if the heavens themselves were bleeding.

A lone rider approached, his steed kicking up a thin veil of dust. A red banner, frayed at the edges, fluttered in his grasp—a harbinger of ill tidings. He dismounted with urgency, sweat gleaming on his brow, and accepted a water skin from a Sunawin woman. The silence around him was expectant, thick with unspoken dread.

"King Yeshu," the messenger rasped, his voice hoarse from travel, "I bring bad news." He swallowed hard before continuing. "I have just returned from the Esnawa Tribe. The king's special warriors—the Phari—arrived three days ago. They sought out all the female infants believed to have been born under the red moon of Mayari…"

He hesitated, his grip tightening on the reins.

The Messenger Of Death