The night was thick with the scent of burning incense and roses, a fragrance both intoxicating and suffocating. The weight of the prophecy pressed heavily upon the grand halls of Eldoria, whispering through the marble corridors, seeping into the very stones of the palace. The union between Cassiel and Arden was no longer just a matter of politics, it was a decree written in blood and fate.
Cassiel stood at the edge of the ceremonial chamber, the glow of hundreds of floating candles casting shifting shadows across the obsidian walls. Her gown, a deep shade of midnight blue embroidered with golden sigils, clung to her form like a second skin. Her silver-blonde hair was woven into intricate braids, each strand threaded with tiny gemstones that caught the candlelight and shimmered like the stars above.
Across from her, Arden watched with unreadable eyes. His black and crimson attire, woven with Dravenian battle symbols, made him appear every bit the warrior prince his people whispered about. The weight of his family's curse sat heavily on his shoulders, the unspoken fear lurking beneath his defiant gaze.
The High Priestess Lysara stood between them, draped in flowing gold, her presence commanding reverence. She extended her hands over the ancient tome that rested upon the altar. The book's pages, aged and delicate, seemed to hum with an energy that crackled in the air around them.
"On this night, beneath the Blood Moon, we call upon the gods." Lysara's voice was steady and powerful. "A vow is not merely words it is a binding. A chain woven in fire and will. Once spoken, it cannot be undone without sacrifice."
The crowd, a mixture of nobles, scholars, and warriors, watched in rapt silence. They had gathered to witness the forging of a bond that would either save their kingdoms or doom them both.
Cassiel's fingers curled at her sides. She had spent her life bound to duty, to prophecy, to a fate she could not yet comprehend. But standing here, staring into the storm-gray depths of Arden's eyes, she realized something unsettling.
She was not afraid of him.
She was afraid of what this meant.
"Prince Arden," Lysara intoned, turning to him first. "Do you vow to stand beside Lady Cassiel, to protect her, to honor the bond forged this night? Do you vow to defy the darkness that seeks to unravel this union?"
A moment passed too long, too heavy. Then Arden reached for the ceremonial dagger resting upon the altar. The blade gleamed under the flickering light, its hilt adorned with the entwined sigils of Draven and Eldoria.
"I vow it," he said, his voice a quiet storm. He drew the blade across his palm, crimson welling at the surface before dripping onto the open pages of the tome.
The room pulsed with unseen energy.
Lysara turned to Cassiel. "Lady Cassiel, do you vow to stand beside Prince Arden, to uphold this bond even as fate seeks to test its strength? Do you vow to wield your power not as a weapon, but as a shield?"
Cassiel's throat tightened. The vow was more than words it was magic, a spell in its own right. The moment she spoke them, she would be bound.
Her gaze met Arden's once more. His hand was still bleeding, his expression unreadable. Somewhere beneath the layers of arrogance and stubbornness, she saw something else, a flicker of uncertainty. A man who had already lost too much was standing on the edge of losing himself.
She inhaled sharply and stepped forward.
"I vow it," she whispered.
The dagger was cool in her grasp as she sliced the blade across her palm. A sharp sting, a single drop of blood falling to the ancient text.
The book trembled.
The air itself shuddered.
A gust of wind surged through the chamber, extinguishing half the candles in an instant. The temperature dropped, a chill slithering through Cassiel's spine as the very walls of the palace seemed to groan in protest.
Something ancient had awakened.
The floating embers from the extinguished flames curled and twisted midair, forming eerie symbols before dissipating into nothingness. The sigils on Cassiel's gown glowed faintly, pulsing in time with her racing heart.
Lysara's lips pressed together in a thin line. "It is done," she announced, her tone betraying a flicker of unease.
The crowd erupted into murmurs, some whispering prayers to the gods, others exchanging wary glances. They had expected a ceremony, a formal vow. They had not expected this.
Cassiel's breathing was uneven as she stepped back, flexing her wounded hand. The wound should have begun clotting by now, but it did not. A thin line of crimson still trickled down her fingers.
Arden turned his palm over, and Cassiel's breath hitched. His wound, too, was still bleeding.
Their gazes snapped to Lysara in unison.
"What is this?" Arden's voice was controlled, but only barely. "Why does the blood not stop?"
The priestess hesitated.
Cassiel's chest tightened. "Lysara."
A long, stretched silence followed before Lysara spoke. "The vow has bound you deeper than expected. Your blood is now intertwined with the magic of the prophecy itself."
A sharp pang of realization shot through Cassiel. This was no ordinary vow, this was a tether, a seal.
"We cannot be parted," she murmured.
Lysara's gaze darkened. "Not without consequences."
A murmur of unease rippled through the room. Cassiel saw it in the faces of those watching the realization that this bond was more than a marriage. It was a binding spell unlike any that had been performed before.
Arden's jaw clenched. His eyes burned with barely contained fury, not directed at Cassiel but at the forces that had conspired to twist their fate into something neither of them had agreed to.
Before either of them could respond, the great doors of the chamber burst open.
A gust of icy wind howled through the room as a figure cloaked in deep black strode inside. The torches flickered violently, casting long, jagged shadows along the polished floor. The crowd recoiled, whispers of alarm spreading like wildfire.
Cassiel turned sharply, her instincts flaring.
The figure lowered their hood.
Lord Malrik Vaelor.
The Shadow Chancellor.
Cassiel's pulse spiked. She had only seen him from afar, a man of whispered rumors and concealed motives. But now, standing before them, he was more than a phantom in the halls of court. He was very real. And the smirk that curled his lips sent a cold dread down her spine.
"A union bound in blood," he mused, his voice smooth as silk, dangerous as a dagger hidden beneath velvet. "How fitting. Though I wonder... did you truly believe the gods would make this easy?"
Cassiel's fingers itched to summon her magic.
Arden took a slow step forward. "State your purpose, Vaelor. Or leave before I force you to."
Malrik chuckled, a low, amused sound. "Oh, Prince Arden. I do not come to fight. I come to warn you."
Cassiel's breath hitched.
"The bond you have sealed tonight," Malrik continued, his dark eyes gleaming, "is not merely a vow of unity. It is a curse woven into your very veins. A curse that has already begun its work."
Silence fell, cold and suffocating.
Cassiel glanced at her still-bleeding palm.
The wound that refused to heal.
The magic that had surged unnaturally.
The binding that had been forged too deeply.
A curse.
She met Arden's gaze, and for the first time that night, true fear flickered in his storm-gray eyes.