Chapter 83 Deception
The air in the obsidian chamber hissed.
It was the sound of Klishei’s own skin reacting to the air, a low-level static of cosmic energy that felt like needles under her pores.
A jagged moan escaped her lips. Her throat felt like it had been scraped with hot glass.
She lay on the moonstone bed, her fingers twitching against the silk. The golden glow emanating from her veins was so bright now it cast long, flickering shadows against the dark walls. Each beat of her heart sent a thrumming vibration through the floor.
The door slid open with a soft chime. Zarakhi entered.
Jaden stepped out from the shadows behind him, his face tight with uncharacteristic worry. "The doctor says she has less than a day, Sire. If the integration isn't stabilized, she’ll dissipate. We’ll lose the Phoenix for another two millennia."
Zarakhi reached out. His hand didn't touch her skin, but he hovered his palm over her forehead. A dark, oily smoke began to curl from his fingertips—dark magic, ancient and heavy. "She resists because of that rogue Alpha. Her heart is a tether, dragging her back to the mud of Earth. I will simply cut the rope."
"Is that wise?" Jaden whispered. "The ancients say the Bride must be willing."
"She will be," Zarakhi replied. "She will be very willing."
He closed his eyes. The dark smoke descended, veiling Klishei’s face.
Suddenly, the heat was gone.
Klishei gasped. The air was cool and smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine. The agonizing pressure in her chest vanished, replaced by a lightness that made her feel like she was floating.
"Klishei? Hey, stay with me."
She blinked. The obsidian walls were gone. The terrifying Dragon King was gone. She was standing in the middle of a sun-drenched meadow. The grass was a vibrant, impossible green, swaying in a gentle breeze.
Standing in front of her was Yeseus.
"Yeseus!" She let out a sob of pure relief. "Oh, thank God. You found me."
She threw herself into his arms. He felt solid, warm, and real. He smelled of cedar and the leather of his hunting gear. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight.
"I've got you," he whispered into her hair. His voice was rough, just the way she remembered it. "I'm not letting them take you back to that place."
Klishei pulled back, her eyes searching his face. He looked different—happier. The dark circles under his eyes were gone. The tension in his jaw had vanished. "How did we get here? Last I remember, I was... I was burning."
He smiled, a rare, beautiful expression that made her heart flutter. "We're at the Phoenix’s Nest, Klishei. Your grandparents were right. The ritual worked. You're stable now. We're safe."
She looked around. In the distance, the stone pillars of the Nest rose toward a sky that was a perfect, cloudless blue. "It's over? Truly?"
"Almost," Yeseus said. He took her hands in his, his thumbs grazing her knuckles. "But the Council–they’re still looking for us. They won't stop until they have their 'Bride.' The only way to stop them for good is to complete our own bond. To make it official."
Klishei’s breath hitched. "You mean a wedding?"
"I want you to be mine, Klishei. Not because of some cosmic prophecy, but because I love you." He knelt on one knee in the soft grass. The sun caught the highlights in his dark hair. "I want to bind our souls together. Right here. Right now. If we do this, no king and no god can ever take you away from me."
Tears of joy pricked her eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. I thought... I thought I’d never see you again."
"I’m right here," he promised. He stood up and led her toward a small stone altar draped in white lilies. "Say the words with me. Tell the world you belong to me."
Klishei nodded eagerly. She felt like she was walking on air. This was everything she had dreamed of during those long, cold nights in the palace.
"I, Klishei Aizal," she began, her voice trembling with emotion.
"I, Klishei Aizal," she repeated.
"Give my heart and soul to you," Yeseus prompted.
"Give my heart and soul to you."
"I bind my essence to yours, forever and always."
Klishei felt a strange tingle in her chest as she spoke the words—a warmth that felt different from the fever. It was a golden cord, tightening. "I bind my essence to yours, forever and always."
Yeseus smiled, but for a split second, his eyes seemed to flash a brilliant, piercing violet. Klishei blinked, and the brown was back. It must have been the sun, she thought.
"Now, the final step," Yeseus whispered, leaning in close. His breath was cool against her lips. "Repeat after me: I accept the union. I am the Bride."
"I accept the union," Klishei whispered, her heart pounding with excitement. "I am the Bride."
As the last word left her lips, a chime echoed through the meadow.
It was a deep, resonant sound that didn't seem to come from the birds or the wind. It sounded like a bell from a great cathedral.
"Is it done?" she asked, looking up at him.
"It is done," Yeseus said. He kissed her forehead. "Rest now, my Queen. When you wake up, the celebration will begin."
"I love you, Yeseus," she murmured, her eyelids growing heavy. The meadow began to blur at the edges, the green turning into a soft, hazy gold.
"And I," his voice echoed, sounding more distant now, "will see you at the altar."
Back in the obsidian chamber, Klishei’s body suddenly relaxed.
The violent golden tremors stopped. The harsh, panicked gasps smoothed out into a deep, rhythmic breathing. A soft, serene smile played on her lips, even though she remained unconscious.
Zarakhi withdrew his hand. The dark smoke dissipated into the air. He looked down at her with a chilling sense of accomplishment.
"She is mine," he said.
Jaden stepped forward, looking at Klishei’s peaceful face. "She actually agreed? Just like that?"
"She thinks she’s in a meadow with her wolf," Zarakhi said, his voice devoid of emotion. He straightened his mantle, the star-metal clinking softly. "She thinks she just married him. She has surrendered her soul to the 'union.' The magic doesn't care who she thinks she’s marrying, as long as the consent is given to the King."
"Is she stable?" Jaden asked.
"For now," Zarakhi said.
He walked toward the door, his footsteps heavy and authoritative.
"Jaden," Zarakhi barked.
"Yes, Sire?"
"Wake the handmaidens. Tell the High Scholars to begin the incantations at the Great Altar. I want the palace draped in the ceremonial banners." He paused, his hand on the doorframe. "We marry at sunrise. Ensure she is dressed in violet silks. She should look like the goddess she is about to become."