His Broken Fairy

Chapter 8: The Test of Fire

The hulking demon, Torgath, stood in the center of the grand hall, his massive frame casting long, dark shadows that stretched across the stone floor. His molten eyes never left Lysandra, glowing with a heat that was both literal and figurative. The other demons had retreated to the edges of the room, watching with bated breath, sensing the tension thickening in the air.

Lysandra's heart pounded in her chest as she felt the weight of Torgath's gaze on her. Zareth remained by her side, his posture calm but alert, ready to intervene if necessary. But this wasn't his fight to step into—not yet. This was her moment to prove that she was not just a figurehead, not just a fairy in the wrong realm. She had to show them all, especially Torgath, that she was worthy of being Queen of Hell.

Torgath's lips twisted into a mocking grin as he took a slow step forward, his heavy footsteps echoing through the hall. "A fairy," he drawled, his voice rumbling like a volcanic tremor. "Do you really think someone like you can rule here? In this place of darkness and fire?"

Lysandra's throat tightened, but she refused to back down. She had already survived unimaginable torment in the prison, and she wouldn't let this demon intimidate her now. Zareth believed in her—he had made that clear. And she had started to believe in herself, even if only a little.

Stepping forward, Lysandra raised her chin and met Torgath's fiery gaze. "I may not be like you," she said, her voice strong and steady. "But I've endured things that would break even the strongest of your kind. I was torn apart and left to rot in chains, but I didn't break. I survived. And now I stand here as your queen."

Her words rang out in the silence, and for a brief moment, Torgath seemed to hesitate. His molten eyes flickered, as if considering her with a hint of surprise. But the moment passed, and his grin widened, full of sharp, gleaming teeth.

"Surviving is not the same as ruling," he said, taking another step toward her. His immense size was overwhelming, but Lysandra held her ground. "In this place, power is everything. And power is earned through blood and fire."

Lysandra felt Zareth's gaze on her, felt his quiet strength radiating toward her. He wasn't intervening because he trusted her to handle this. He was giving her the chance to prove herself in front of everyone. And she wasn't about to let him down.

"If you think I'm not worthy," Lysandra said, her voice firm, "then test me."

A ripple of surprise ran through the demons gathered around them. The tension in the air thickened, and for a moment, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath.

Torgath's eyes narrowed, and a dark, gleeful smile crept across his face. "Very well," he rumbled, stepping back. "I will give you the test of fire, fairy queen. Let's see if you can withstand the flames of Hell."

Zareth's expression remained unreadable, though Lysandra could feel the flicker of concern in him, even if he didn't voice it. This wasn't a test she had to pass to win his respect, but to win the respect of the realm. If she failed here, she would be seen as weak, unworthy of standing beside him. The demons would never accept her.

Without another word, Torgath raised one hand, and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. The air in the hall grew thick with heat, and flames erupted from the floor, circling around Lysandra and Torgath like a living barrier of fire. The heat was suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides, but Lysandra refused to let fear take hold.

She had already lived through her own personal hell in the prison. She had faced torment and anguish that had nearly broken her. Whatever Torgath had planned for her now, she would face it with the same strength that had gotten her this far.