Chapter Twenty-Two: A Dance with the Devil

The wind howled through the burning city, carrying the acrid scent of smoke and blood. Seraphina stood frozen on the high balcony, her pulse thundering in her ears. The figure before her, bathed in the flickering glow of the fires below, was not just any adversary—he was him. The one whose existence had dictated the tragedies within the novel she had once read. The true villain of this world.

He was exactly as she had envisioned—tall, draped in black, with an aura that made the air thick with something unspoken, something dark. His golden eyes gleamed like molten fire, sharp and knowing as if he had been waiting for this moment.

"So," he murmured, his voice smooth yet deadly, "you've finally arrived."

Seraphina's throat tightened. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to move, to flee, but she held her ground. The power within her still simmered beneath her skin, coiling like a serpent ready to strike, but she wasn't foolish enough to act without understanding what she was up against.

"Who are you?" she demanded, though she already knew the answer.

The man tilted his head slightly, amused. "You ask a question you already know the answer to, little princess." He took a step forward, and though they were separated by the stone of the balcony, Seraphina felt the weight of his presence press against her like an unseen force. "I wonder, do you truly not remember?"

Something flickered in her mind, the remnants of the visions from the void—chains, blood, golden eyes watching her in the darkness. A chill ran down her spine.

"I don't understand," she admitted, her voice quieter this time.

His smile widened, but there was no kindness in it—only cruelty and patience, like a predator toying with its prey. "Oh, but you will."

The air shifted. A gust of wind sent embers dancing around them like dying fireflies, and the moment stretched unbearably long. Seraphina fought to keep her breathing even, to steady herself. She had faced threats before—assassins, conspiracies, betrayals—but this was different. This man knew something, something about her past, something she had yet to uncover.

And that terrified her more than anything.

"You think you can challenge me?" she asked, her voice sharper now, testing. "That I'll bow to you like the rest of them?"

A low chuckle escaped him, dark and rich. "Challenge you? No, princess. I'm here to warn you."

She frowned. "Warn me?"

He took another step closer, and suddenly, the world felt smaller, like the walls of reality itself were folding inward. "You are standing on the edge of a blade," he said, his tone almost gentle. "One wrong move and you won't just fall—you'll burn."

Something in his voice sent a tremor through her, but she refused to let it show. Seraphina lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I don't fear fire."

His golden eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering behind them. "No," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "But you should."

Before she could react, the world tilted. The ground beneath her trembled, the stone cracking under unseen pressure. A force—ancient and violent—rippled through the air, coiling around her like invisible chains. Seraphina gasped, her knees nearly buckling from the sheer weight of it.

Power. Raw, suffocating power. And it wasn't coming from her.

"You see, Seraphina," the man whispered, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost across her cheek, "this world doesn't belong to the strong. It belongs to those who know how to wield them."

And then— The balcony shattered beneath her feet. The last thing she saw was his smirk before she plummeted into the flames below.