Chapter 137: No More Prayers

The silence splintered

Vincent’s claws gleamed in the darkness as he breathed heavily. Across him stood the shadow-Vincent, who had the same face, same golden eyes, but looked hollow and hungry.

Camela’s breath came in sharp gasps, her scar on her chest flaring to life with a pulsing blood-red glow in rhythm with her quickened breaths. Her trembling hand hovered between the two Vincents, both reaching out to her.

“Camela,” the real Vincent growled, his voice rough and filled with urgency. “Look at me. Only at me.”

Her lips quivered, barely parting. “Which one…?”

The shadow-Vincent smirked wider, his voice smooth yet poisonous. “Make your choice, bride. No more praying for someone to save you. You decide now.”

Vincent's growl cut through the tension. “She doesn’t need to choose. She’s mine.”

The shadow-Vincent tilted his head and smiled slowly, his tone smooth and toxic. “She doesn’t have to look; she already knows deep down. She’s always known.”

Her hand shook harder as she spoke. “I…I don’t…”

Vincent stepped closer, forcing her behind his arm, his claws bared as sparks flew from where they scraped the ground.

“Stay back,” he instructed.

But the shadow leaned in closer, grinning widely. “What are you trying to protect her from? Yourself?”

Camela cried out, clutching her chest tightly. “Stop…both of you! I can’t breathe…”

The red glow from her scar spread across the chamber like liquid fire, illuminating every wall as the ghost’s figure grew taller, feeding from her fear.

“You can hear it too, can’t you?” the shadow-Vincent whispered to her. “The truth is humming beneath your skin. He doesn’t want you to acknowledge it; he wants you in the dark.”

Camela's voice wavered. “I’m not sure what’s true anymore…”

Vincent gripped her arm, clenching his jaw, and said, “Then trust what you see. Trust my voice.”

“Your voice?” the shadow-Vincent sneered, tilting its head mockingly. “What has his voice ever brought you, bride? Safety? No. Freedom? No….Only chains. My voice is the only one that answers your prayers.”

Tears filled Camela's eyes as she shook her head vigorously, whispering, “No more prayers…”

The shadow-Vincent raised a hand, causing the air to ripple.

Suddenly, the walls of the chamber were filled with scenes— Camela as a child kneeling in the mayor’s study, whispering prayers to a locked door. Her small hands were clasped together as her lips mouthed words that received no response.

“No one listened then,” the ghost said softly. “Not your father. Not your gods. Not even him.”

The little girl’s prayer voice echoed through the room: “Please…someone take me away.”

Camela staggered back, clutching her head as she screamed, “Stop!”

Vincent’s chest heaved while he slashed at the images, tearing them apart with his claws.

“Don’t listen to him. It’s all lies,” he said.

The shadow-Vincent chuckled softly. “Not lies…just echoes. Tell me, fox…were you there for her when she prayed the first time? Did you hear her? No, you were too busy hunting in silence.”

Camela looked at Vincent, her lips quivering. “Did you…ever hear me?” she asked.

His throat tightened as he spoke, forcing out the words through gritted teeth: “…I hear you now.”

The shadow-Vincent stepped forward, walking quietly while his presence felt overwhelming.

"You prayed for safety," he whispered. "But what did it bring you? A fox's claws, a father's betrayal, chains around your neck. Tell me, Camela…what has prayer ever offered you except silence?"

Camela's eyes flickered with fear as she looked between them and whispered, "I prayed…because I had no one."

The shadow-Vincent raised his hand, offering it like a promise. "And you still have no one. But with me…you will never have to pray again. You will command. You will become what they fear."

Vincent growled and repositioned himself in front of her protectively, his claws glowing gold.

"Don't listen to him. He's nothing but rot," he said firmly.

The shadow-Vincent’s laughter was sharp and cutting. "Rot speaks the truth you're too afraid to say."

Camela covered her ears, trembling as she whispered, "Stop…stop both of you…"

The ground cracked between them, forcing Camela closer to the shadow-Vincent. The red light coiled around her wrists like chains.

The ghost's eyes shone brightly. "Then prove it, fox. Speak her truth aloud…the name you've hidden, the one you dread. Give it to her…or she’s mine."

Vincent snarled back, "You'll twist it. You'll break her."

Tears streamed down Camela's face as her voice trembled. "Vincent…please…I need to know."

He grasped her hand tightly, his claws nearly piercing her skin, and said, "Camela, listen to me. You're mine…that's all that matters."

The shadow-Vincent sneered at them. "Still trying to escape it? Still silencing her prayers? Say the word…Or I will."

Camela's scream tore through the chamber. "Then say it! Please! No more silence!"

The chamber shook as dust fell from the ceiling. Vincent pulled her against him, pressing his forehead to hers.

His voice trembled. “If I say it, you’ll be lost to him. He wins and chains you to his truth. I won't give him that.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she asked, “Then what am I?”

“You’re mine,” he growled fiercely. “Not because of a word or him, but because I chose you and you chose me. That’s all there is to it.”

The shadow-Vincent laughed, its voice breaking like glass. “Fool! She will never believe you without the word. You’ve sealed her fate.”

Camela pressed a trembling hand against Vincent’s chest, saying, “Vincent…if you don’t tell me…how can I trust you aren’t a lie?”

Pain surged through him as he took her hand and placed it over his heartbeat as he responded, “Because this doesn’t lie.”

For a brief moment, her eyes softened, and she muttered, “Vincent…”

The ghost hissed, his form twisting angrily. “You weak fool! Always clinging to flesh rather than truth. Very well…if you won’t say it…”

Chains shot up from the floor and wrapped around Camela’s body.

“…then I will say it for you,” he continued.

The shadow version of Vincent leaned in close, his lips nearly touching her ear. His voice slithered, “Your real name is…”

“NO!” Vincent roared, hurling himself forward. His claws tore through the shadow-Vincent’s throat, sending ink splattering across the walls of the chamber.

The shadow-Vincent staggered back, laughing even as the wound dripped with black liquid. “Still too late; she already knows. Look.”

The shadow-Vincent lunged again with claws drawn, but Vincent blocked him, sparks flying as gold struck black.

Camela stumbled back, pressing against the wall as she shouted, “Stop! Both of you!”

The two Vincents clashed violently, mirroring each other's fury. Each strike rumbled through the chamber, and their roars echoed like thunder.

The shadow-Vincent laughed even as Vincent gave a deep slash across his chest. The wound sealed up instantly. “You can’t kill me, fox. I am you…the part of you that you keep hidden away…the part she desires.”

Vincent roared, pushing him back. “She doesn’t want you!”

The shadow-Vincent grinned, his golden eyes shining with mischief. “Then let's ask her.”

In an instant, he vanished and reappeared behind Camela, his claws brushing her throat.

Vincent froze still, rage burning through his veins. “Touch her…and I will end you,” he said.

Camela trembled but managed to speak through the darkness. “Vincent…I don’t want to be treated like a thing for you to fight over. I want…I want my choice.”

Her scar burned so bright it split the chains binding her. She fell to her knees, clutching her chest as her voice quivered. “I…I heard it…”

Vincent halted in disbelief and said, “No…you didn’t! Don’t listen…”

But she looked up at him with hollow eyes. “Then why do I feel it tearing me apart?” she questioned.

Her scar flared bright red, casting searing light throughout the chamber. Both Vincents staggered from its power.

She lifted her chin, her voice shaky yet resolute. “No more prayers. No more cages. If I choose…it won’t be because I'm saved or trapped; it will be because I decide who I am.”

The shadow-Vincent’s smile twisted into something sinister. “Then decide, bride.”

Vincent’s breathing was uneven, and his eyes burned with intensity as he spoke. “Camela…I can't promise safety. But I can assure you that you’re not alone.”

The shadow-Vincent leaned close, his whisper laced with malice. “And I promise you power…the kind that doesn’t rely on saving. The kind that makes them all bow.”

Camela's chest heaved as she glanced back and forth between them, her hands gripping her scar tightly.

“I don’t want to bow. I don’t want to be the subject of anyone’s prayers. I want…” Her voice shook as she spoke. “…to stop being afraid.”

The scar burst brighter, cracking the floor beneath her feet. The chamber trembled violently, and the floor cracked open.

The shadow-Vincent’s form dissolved into smoke, slipping away as its voice echoed from all directions. “No more prayers, bride. You asked for the truth, and it has come to you. Now…follow where it leads.”

Camela let out a scream, her scar blazing like a brand. The ground split wide beneath her feet.

Vincent lunged forward with his claws outstretched as he screamed, “Camela!”

Her hand reached for his—weak, trembling, and desperate for connection.

Their fingers brushed—

But a wall of black glass rose between them, separating them.

Through the barrier, her lips formed the question that shattered him:

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The glass cracked under pressure—