Chapter 1
Avalon had won again.
The battlefield was soaked in blood. Bodies burned. Flags torn. And from the ashes rose one name—Prince Damiel.
The Demon Prince of Avalon.
He returned from war without a scratch, his black cloak whipping behind him, silver eyes colder than death. While kingdoms mourned their fallen, Avalon celebrated. And as tradition demanded, a fresh shipment of slaves was delivered to the royal palace—a spoils-of-war offering.
But this time… there was something different in the cargo. Not gold or silver,or swords or robes instead one of their own kind, A human.
Reyna.
Not a prisoner of war. A girl sold off by her own family after Damiel's victory. The black market called her a cursed beauty—too divine to be ignored, too dangerous to be left free. They shipped her to Avalon as tribute, a whisper passed from lips to ears:
"Give her to the Prince… maybe it will satisfy the devil."
The courtyard of the Demon Palace burned with firelight. Nobles filled the space—masked, bejeweled, silent with greed. The other slaves were lined up, some shaking, some limp, others barely conscious.
And then Reyna was brought forward.
The world stopped.
She wore chains, but walked with grace. Her skin was pale, glasslike, unblemished. Her black hair fell in soaked waves over her shoulders, her full lips red and parted. Her blue eyes were stunning—soft yet sharp. She didn't beg. She didn't cry.
She shone.
The court stared.
"She's not real…"
"I want her."
"I'll pay anything."
Even Damiel's older brother, Prince Zaire, stepped forward, his eyes dark with lust. "I'll take her."
Prince Xavier chuckled. "Too slow, brother. I saw her first."
Reyna stood still, watching them fight over her like meat. Until the wind shifted.
He arrived.
Prince Damiel stepped out, black boots striking the marble. Silver hair glowing faintly under the moon, his expression carved from stone. He walked past generals, nobles, even his own brothers. Not a glance. Not a word.
He stopped in front of Reyna.
The world seemed to fall away.
He studied her—like a weapon. Like a threat. Then he raised one gloved hand and tilted her chin up.
"What's your name?" he asked, voice like a blade.
"Reyna," she whispered, refusing to lower her gaze.
He nodded once, then turned to the crowd.
"She is mine."
Zaire stepped forward. "You don't choose first. She was being presented to the court."
Damiel didn't even turn to him. "Did you win a kingdom this week, brother?"
Xavier smirked. "Come on, Damiel, you've never taken a slave. Let us have this one."
Damiel turned his head slightly, eyes sharp. "Fight me for her."
Silence.
The courtyard fell still.
No one moved.
Because they knew. Even his brothers wouldn't dare.
"She is the price of victory," Damiel said, eyes back on Reyna. "She belongs to me."
He turned and walked off.
The guards without hesitation, dragged Reyna after him. As she passed, the crowd couldn't look away. Jealousy. Rage. Lust. Envy.
And in the eyes of his brothers: something darker.
Something dangerous.
But it didn't matter.
She was claimed not chosen
No one dared to challenge the devil.
And now… the devil had chosen her.
For she was no longer a slaver but a possession of the devil himself.