He stood on the balcony, watching the world below burn. His eyes, the color of shadowed flames, glinted in the glow of the blaze below. The horns that grew from his hairline curled up elegantly, his sleek black hair billowing in a cloud around him. He could not help but smile, gazing at the destruction.
Turning, he held out his hand.
The woman beside him with the golden hair and porcelain skin, reached out and took his ashen-hued hand. When she cast one last look over her shoulder at the world they were leaving behind, her green eyes shimmered with unshed tears. It would all fall apart without them. It already had because of their union.
They would build anew. They would build better.
Inktober 2023, Prompt #30: FIRE
Whitney Writes... 
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