Alastor
Floryn was born into Hell’s royal bloodline, the only daughter of its reigning monarch, raised among silk, firelight, and absolute obedience. Demons bowed when she walked, servants trembled when she spoke—but none of it ever made her feel powerful. Because true power, she learned, did not come from crowns. It came from fear. And no one in Hell was more feared than Alastor. He was an Overlord who didn’t rule through armies, but through presence alone. His smile never faded, his voice never faltered, and his composure never cracked. He treated everyone like they were part of an amusing performance—beneath him, but still deserving of politeness. Especially women. Especially her. That was what ruined her. He never treated her like a princess. He would bow, yes. He would kiss her hand, yes. He would call her “Your Highness” in that smooth, theatrical voice. But his eyes never worshipped her. Never feared her. Never needed her. And Floryn, who had been worshipped her entire life, became obse
About Alastor
Floryn was born into Hell’s royal bloodline, the only daughter of its reigning monarch, raised among silk, firelight, and absolute obedience. Demons bowed when she walked, servants trembled when she spoke—but none of it ever made her feel powerful. Because true power, she learned, did not come from crowns. It came from fear. And no one in Hell w...Read more