Chapter 25: Shadows at the Wedding Gate

The bright light swallowed everything around her. There were no shadows, no walls, and no ground beneath her. All she could hear was the sound of her breathing, sharp and rough.

Then she felt a soft crunch beneath her feet.

Camela blinked, and the brightness began to fade in streaks, revealing black sand beneath her toes. The air was filled with the scent of salt and rust.

In the distance, a massive set of gates appeared—taller than any she had ever seen. They were made of bone, with silver fox heads adorning the tops. Beyond the gates, she could hear faint music drifting through the air, a slow and haunting waltz.

A voice behind her interrupted the silence.

“Camela.”

She turned around, startled.

Vincent stood there, panting heavily, his coat ripped and his hair wet as if he had just come through a storm. His eyes swept over her, making sure she was okay.

“You are here,” she said softly, almost in disbelief.

“I promised I’d figure out a way.” He moved closer, but his eyes darted to the high gates.

“We’re not safe yet,” he whispered.

The black sand moved beneath their feet. Small shapes moved quickly just beneath the surface, causing the ground to wave.

Camela gulped. “Where are we?”

Vincent clenched his jaw. “The wedding gate.”

“The…what?” Camela stuttered in disbelief.

“It’s the place every bride passes through before saying her vows,” he replied in a low voice. “And where many… don’t return.”

A cold wind rushed in, causing the gates to creak. The sand hissed and then swelled in spots, rising like lungs taking a breath.

Shadows emerged from the ground, taking on human forms without faces. They moved gently, their bodies wavering like candle flames.

Camela grabbed Vincent's sleeve. “Who are they?” she asked.

“They’re past brides,” he replied.

The shadows turned their heads toward her, as if catching a whiff of something new.

“They want you to join them.”

One of the shadows stepped forward. Its shape shivered and broke apart before reforming again, closer to them.

“Don’t let them touch you,” Vincent warned, grabbing her wrist. “If they do, you’ll forget your name.”

She looked at him in confusion. “My name?”

“You’ll forget who you are…and then they can walk you through the gate without a fight,” he replied.

The closest shadow reached out toward her face, causing Camela to stumble back in fear. “What should we do now?” she asked in panic.

Vincent took out a silver key tied with a black ribbon from his coat. “This will help us pass through. But the gate won’t open unless we say the vow.”

Her stomach twisted nervously. “What vow?”

“The one I’ve been trying to prevent you from saying.”

A loud clang rang out from the gates, causing the bone fox heads to turn with their silver eyes shining brightly.

From their midst emerged a tall figure dressed in a suit of dark feathers and wearing a fox mask covering its face. In one clawed hand, it held a black lantern.

Vincent muttered a curse under his breath. “The Guardian.”

The voice of the masked figure was harsh and gravelly. “One may pass. The other must stay.”

“No deal,” Vincent replied firmly.

The Guardian tilted its head slightly. “Then both stay.” It lifted the lantern, and shadows surged forward like an approaching wave.

“Run,” Vincent commanded, pushing her to the side as the shadows pounced forward.

No!” She grabbed his arm. “We can’t…”

“Yes, we can. Just trust me.” He pulled her toward the gate. The Guardian’s lantern swung, spilling black flames that made the shadows scream in agony.

They ducked behind a twisted bone pillar. Camela's heart raced. “We can't fight that.”

“We don't need to fight,” Vincent replied, locking eyes with her. “We can bargain."

He stepped out from behind the pillar with his hands raised.

“One question, Guardian.”

The fox-masked figure tilted its head again.

“If I win the Bride’s game,” Vincent declared, “You allow Camela to pass without taking the vow.”

The Guardian let out a low, crackling laugh. “And what happens if you lose?”

Vincent smiled slightly. “Then you take me instead.”

Camela felt a knot tighten in her chest. “Vincent…”

He ignored Camela's gaze. “Do we have a deal?” as he continued bargaining with the Guardian.

The Guardian’s lantern flickered and dimmed. “Deal.” It replied.

The ground shifted beneath them, forming a perfect black circle as the sand sank.

The Guardian's voice echoed: “Step into the circle. Answer three truths. Fail one, and the gate closes forever.”

Without hesitation, Vincent stepped inside. Shadows surrounded the circle, swaying gently, and the air was thick with the scent of ash.

“First truth,” the Guardian said, its eyes locked onto Vincent. “Do you love the bride?”

Camela gasped softly.

Vincent stood firm and replied, “Yes.”

The shadows whispered but remained still.

“Second truth,” the Guardian continued, his tone sharper now. “Would you burn the kingdom to save her?”

Vincent answered confidently, “Yes.”

The shadows rippled violently, their shapes breaking apart before reforming.

“Third truth,” the Guardian said, leaning forward. “Will you give her to the Fox if it means keeping her heart alive?”

A heavy silence filled the air.

Vincent’s hand clenched into a fist. “…Yes.”

The shadows froze in place.

Camela’s voice trembled as she spoke, “Vincent…”

The Guardian’s lantern flared brightly. “Three truths spoken. The gate opens.”

The gates creaked as they opened wide. On the other side lay not a pathway, but a dark river under a sky void of stars. A single boat drifted on the water, its sail made from red silk.

Vincent took her hand. “Keep going, no matter what you hear. Do not stop”

They walked onto the black sand toward the boat. The shadows pulled away, whispering in voices that sounded like hers—pleading, begging, and calling her name.

Camela’s steps faltered. “They sound like…”

“Just ignore them,” Vincent urged.

The Guardian's voice echoed behind them. “Once you cross over, there’s no turning back. The wedding awaits.”

They climbed into the boat, and as soon as Vincent touched the sail, it filled with wind.

The river was silent, but beneath the water, shapes moved—pale faces with dark, hollow eyes.

One face emerged, pressing itself against the surface beside Camela. Its lips moved without making a sound.

She felt a chill run down her spine. “What’s it saying?” she asked.

Vincent replied in a serious tone, “Your vows.”

The boat sped up, leaving the gates faded behind them. But in front of them—across the river—lights appeared. Dozens of lanterns swayed in the breeze, creating a path like an aisle.

At the end of this path stood a huge arch made of white bones, curved like the ribs of an ancient long-dead beast.

Halfway across, the water began to stir. The shadows from the sand reappeared, this time taller, with their hands stretching toward the boat.

Vincent stood up and pulled out a knife, its silver blade sparkled slightly in the light.

“Stay in the center,” he instructed.

Camela held onto the side of the boat tightly as one shadow grabbed the hull. Vincent quickly slashed at it, and the figure vanished into a cloud of black smoke.

More shadows appeared, moving quickly towards them.

“Why are they after us?” she cried.

“They're not after you,” Vincent replied. “They’re after me.”

They arrived at the distant shore. The moment they stepped on the wet sand, a tall figure awaited them—taller than the Guardian and adorned with a crown made of red thorns.

Its voice was deeper and colder. “Bride. Groom.”

Camela froze in surprise. “Groom?”

The crowned figure's eyes shone brightly. “You stand before the true Keeper of the wedding gate.”

Vincent tensed up. “We already got through.”

“Not without the kiss,” the Keeper replied.

Camela's heart raced. “What?…”

The Keeper stepped closer. “Seal your vow with a kiss, or you cannot pass through into the wedding hall.”

Vincent clenched his jaw. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It is now.” The Keeper’s voice rumbled like thunder.

“Kiss her…or the shadows will take her name,” the Keeper continued.

Camela gasped for breath. “Vincent…”

Behind them, shadows began to rise from the water, their hands stretching out.

Vincent gazed at her, his expression was unreadable.

“Camela,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “Don’t.”

The Keeper raised his hand, and the shadows let out a piercing scream.

Vincent moved closer, lifting one hand to touch her face cupping her cheek, and just as his lips touched hers—

The sky split open with a deafening roar.

Black flames poured down.