The Devil’s Pet

She landed hard, knees slamming against the nearest rooftop.

Pain shot up her legs, but she forced herself up.

Run.

She had to run.

The wind howled as she scrambled across curved tiles, jumping between slanted roofs, her dress whipping behind her like a ghost. The city spread beneath her—endless, unknowable, filled with eerie flickering lights and structures that seemed to defy logic.

Behind her, the dwarf's voice echoed. "That's not a good idea! That's really not a good idea—!"

She ignored him.

She moved like she had in Valyria's forests—quick, agile, desperate.

Then—

A shadow moved above her.

Ariel slowed. Her breath hitched.

Something loomed on the next rooftop, waiting for her.

Something huge.

Something alive.

A creature stood there, waiting.

Not a man.

Not human.

A beast.

Dark as night, massive as a mountain, covered in layered obsidian scales that gleamed like polished onyx.

A dragon.

No—a Golvon.

Dark, scaled, eyes glowing like molten gold.

Recognition hit her like a lightning strike. It's the same one from the forest.

'How is it here?'

She barely had time to think before it exhaled.

A thick, curling mist seeped from its nostrils, rolling toward her like a living thing, wrapping around her ankles, up her arms—

And then— a voice

Silky and sinful.

A shiver crawls down her spine.

"Do you like my pet?"

Ariel's heart stuttered.

She turned, pulse hammering, eyes widening.

There—standing effortlessly on the sloped rooftop, looking like he had been there all along—

Was him.

The Devil.

Ariel sucked in a sharp breath.

He was breathtaking in the most dangerous way. Silver hair streaked with faint crimson, falling in waves over broad shoulders. A towering frame, dressed in elegant black, with gold embroidery curling over his collar and cuffs like woven fire.

And his eyes.

They weren't eyes at all.

They were flames.

Shifting, flickering, dancing in hues of red and gold, drinking her in with an amusement that sent ice down her spine.

She couldn't breathe.

He tilted his head, gaze sweeping over her. "You ran," he mused, lips curling. "Adorable."

Ariel clenched her jaw, fists trembling. "I am not your—"

"Ah." He lifted a finger, silencing her effortlessly. "You seem confused."

He took a slow step closer.

Tilting his head, studying her like she's some fascinating little thing caught in his trap.

The Golvon behind her did not move.

She was trapped.

"You see," the Devil continued, voice smooth, velvet-dark,

"I find it amusing. You thought… you could run.

You haven't even known my name yet."

His long fingers trailed the line of her lips.

" But you'll be screaming it soon enough—" His lips brushed the edge of her ear. "Luciel. Luciel Drogon."

"I give you my last name, and you scream my first. Or isn't that right... Ariel Drogon."

Her lips parted in the shock of being called by another name. Her stomach twisted violently.

He gestured lazily to the kingdom beneath them, to the infernal sky stretching endlessly above.

"This is Hell, sweetheart." His voice dropped lower, thick with wicked amusement. "Where exactly did you think you were running to?"

Ariel's breath hitched.

She turned back toward the Golvon.

And it was still watching her.

Unblinking.

Waiting.

The Devil chuckled. "Shall I tell it to chase you?"

Ariel stiffened.

His smirk widened.

"Or shall I give it another command?"

The Golvon rumbled lowly, shifting its weight.

Ariel swallowed hard.

Her legs refused to move.

She was at his mercy.

And he knew it.

His fingers lifted—casual, elegant, effortless.

A mere flick.

The Golvon let out a deep huff, exhaling another slow cloud of mist before stepping aside.

Clearing a path.

Ariel's stomach twisted.

The Devil turned to her, expression unreadable. "There." He gestured to the now-clear path. "You wanted to run, didn't you?"

A challenge. A trap.

Ariel gritted her teeth.

"Go on," he coaxed, voice a wicked caress. "I'll even give you a head start."

She hesitated.

"Now."

He smiled. Slow. Sinister. "No?"

He leaned in slightly, just enough that the air shifted between them, charged and crackling.

Then, lower—

"Then run to me, little dove."

Ariel's breath stopped.

The heat of his presence burned into her skin.

The smirk in his voice curled around her like a whisper in the dark.

For the first time, running felt... wrong.

The worst part?

She wasn't sure she wanted to run anymore.