The_Lazy_Editor

The realm of Lusara is a land of splendor and strife, where towering kingdoms rise above fertile lands, and shadowed secrets dwell within the hearts of the powerful. The empire is upheld by a delicate balance: a sovereign monarch presiding over lesser lords, and beneath them, the two dominant Houses—House Avernal and House Crimsonvale.

These Houses are the empire’s shield and dagger, bound by duty yet divided by enmity. Known as the "Houses of the Devil," their reputations stem from the lords who rule them—individuals whose power, ambition, and ruthlessness have made them both revered and feared.

Each House serves the empire in its own way: House Avernal safeguards the northern frontiers, a land of unyielding mountains and winter's breath, while House Crimsonvale governs the southern expanses, a place of blazing sands and endless sunsets. Though their territories form the empire’s spine, their hostility toward each other threatens to tear it apart.

In a time of rising tensions, their paths converge not on the battlefield but at the edge of the empire, where an abandoned orphanage crumbles in solitude. There, among overgrown flowers and whispered memories, lives a girl who calls herself a flower. This meeting will set the threads of destiny spinning, entwining love, hatred, and the bittersweet fragility of life.

Devils Tied By A Flower

The laughter had barely subsided when Seraphina, still burning with embarrassment, abruptly pushed herself to her feet. Determined to make things right—or at least salvage what was left of her dignity—she grabbed a handkerchief and leaned over the table, reaching toward Caelum.

The moment the soft fabric pressed against his face, wiping away the remnants of her betrayal, time seemed to halt.

The surrounding knights and attendants exchanged wide-eyed glances, their whispers barely contained.

Seraphina heard every murmur, every gasp. Her body locked up as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. What in the world was she doing?

This was completely out of character.

She, the feared Crimson Wraith, was tending to her greatest rival—

Her fingers stilled. Her mind screamed at her to pull away. But before she could react, her red eyes lifted—

Violet. Deep, unwavering, intense.

Her breath caught. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a war drum, each beat sending a heated rush through her veins.

Caelum hadn't moved an inch. He remained seated, his face an unreadable mask, but his eyes—those piercing eyes—held her captive.

The world around them faded. The whispers, the tension, the table, the meal—all of it dissolved into nothing.

A sudden, unspoken understanding passed between them in that brief yet infinite moment. An unfamiliar sensation settled deep within her, warm and unsettling all at once.

Then, Caelum's lips quirked—just slightly, just enough to make her stomach flip.

Seraphina's eyes widened. The heat on her face reached unbearable levels.

She yanked the handkerchief away and shot backward so fast she nearly toppled over.

The words refused to form. She clenched the handkerchief in her fist, face aflame, unable to comprehend her own actions.

Caelum, still calm, still composed, leaned back ever so slightly, his amusement barely concealed.

"Hm," he mused, tilting his head. "Interesting."

Seraphina's entire body stiffened. If she stayed here a second longer, she might actually combust.

She turned sharply on her heel, muttered something incoherent, and stormed off, leaving the table in chaos once more.

Lyra, still munching on a piece of bread, grinned up at Caelum. "See? Friends."

The camp buzzed with the aftermath of what they had just witnessed, and Seraphina's escape only fueled the murmurs further.

Whatever had just happened between them—

A Meal II - A Moment of Reckoning