Chapter 52: No Locks Inside

The red door swung wider, spilling light like flames through broken bones. The wind howled fiercely, battering the walls and pulling dust and bits of stone into its grasp.

Camela’s gown clung tightly to her legs, each thread straining and pulling her forward.

“Camela!” Vincent shouted, his golden flames erupted from his hands, fighting against the force pulling her away. His boots sank into the ground as every muscle in his body strained to keep her back.

Her lips moved behind the fabric, muffled words escaping her throat, struggling to be heard.

He leaned in closer. “Say it louder!”

Her crown shimmered brightly. The silk pressed down harder against her mouth. Only a whisper slid out—delicate and weak.

“Help me.”

The First Bride tilted her head, her veil fluttering in the fierce wind while her smile widened. “She doesn’t need your flames, Fox. All she needs is the door. That’s what brides are meant for.”

Vincent growled low in his throat, his chest trembling with anger. “She is not yours.”

The First Bride's voice cut through the air like sharp blades against silk as she responded. “She’s not yours either.”

The wind surged once more.

Camela's feet slid on the floor as the silk dragged her backward, wrapping tightly around her ankles. Her nails scraped against the floor, sending sparks flying where the silk brushed against the stone.

“Vincent!” she yelled, her voice torn apart by the storm.

He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Fire flared between them—his golden blaze pushing back against the silk's relentless pull.

Her fingers gripped his arm tightly. Her eyes were filled with tears—wide and pleading.

“Don’t let me go,” she begged.

The First Bride's soft yet cruel laughter echoed throughout the chamber. “Oh, he’ll never let go. That’s why it will hurt more when the door takes you anyway.”

Camela shook her head, gritting her teeth as her fingers dug into Vincent's arm.

“I don’t want to!” she screamed.

Vincent stood firm, his golden flames raging around him, his arms securely holding her waist.

“She doesn’t belong to you!” His voice boomed with intensity.

The First Bride tilted her head, her veil floating like it was underwater. “All the locks are gone now. There are no walls, no chains. Just one door…and no locks inside.”

Her ruined hand raised, causing the statues to tremble. Their stone faces began to crack open, revealing glowing red eyes.

Camela screamed as the wind pulled her forward, the silk threads snapping like whips.

The red light reached out like grasping fingers, and the air became hot against Camela's skin.

“Hold on to her!” Vincent shouted, bracing himself against the force. His flames lashed out at the wind in an attempt to push it back.

Camela’s hair whipped across her face, tears streaming down as she cried out over the raging storm.

“It’s pulling me…Vincent, it’s too strong!”

He leaned in close, his golden eyes burning bright. “Then fight alongside me. Don’t let go.” he urged.

Her nails pressed deeper into him as she asked. “What if it opens anyway?”

“Then we’ll burn it shut together,” he replied.

The First Bride's laughter drifted through the air like smoke. “Fire can’t burn what has no lock. She’s already inside, Vincent. She just needs to take a few more steps.”

“Shut your mouth,” Vincent spat back fiercely. His flames surged higher, creating a protective golden shield around them both.

But the wind only howled louder and pushed harder against them.

The statues cracked completely, their arms breaking free. One by one, they stepped down from their pedestals, their heavy stone feet shaking the ground beneath them. Their mouths opened, releasing moans like those of ancient tombs.

Camela gasped in disbelief. “They’re alive…”

“Stay behind me!” Vincent urged as he pushed her back. His flames shot out, knocking the first statue to the floor where it shattered into pieces. But another statue advanced, its eyes glowing even brighter.

The First Bride whispered sweetly. “They don’t protect the mansion; they guard the door. No one leaves until she passes through.”

Camela felt her gown tighten again, the threads pressing into her wrists like shackles. She struggled to pull away, panting.

“I can’t move…Vincent, it’s binding me!” she cried out.

He turned quickly, trying to burn away the threads with his flames, but they only hissed and rewove themselves tighter, dragging her toward the door.

The First Bride's smile grew wider. “She is now part of the silk. You can’t cut what she already wears.”

Vincent grabbed Camela by the shoulders and shook her gently, his voice trembling and urgent. “Camela…focus on me! Don’t look at her!”

Her eyes flickered between his fiery presence and the frightening red glow of the door. She whimpered in distress.

“I can’t stop it…it’s inside my skin!” she yelled, sobbing.

He pressed his forehead against hers to steady her against the pull of whatever was drawing her in as he whispered fiercely.

“Then let it pull me too. If you go through that door, I’m going with you. Do you understand?”

Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head in response. “No…If you go in, you’ll die!”

“Then we die together.” His golden eyes locked onto hers with fierce determination. “I am not letting you walk through that door alone.”

Her throat tightened as she tried to speak but couldn’t finish her thought. “Vincent…”

Just then, the statues lunged forward.

Vincent spun around with a roar and unleashed a torrent of fire. Golden flames ripped through the hall, shattering stone bodies into dust that filled the air, choking and obscuring their vision.

The First Bride's whisper drew nearer, soft as silk. “He won’t succeed. He never does. Only the bride walks through.”

Camela shook, gripping the silk threads tightly as if fighting against invincible chains. With each step, her body was pulled by silk closer to the glowing red light, the gown twisting around her like a living creature.

“No…” she choked out, pressing her bare feet firmly against the stone floor. Blood stained the ground as her skin tore, but she resisted, trembling.

The First Bride's soft and seductive voice echoed. “Every wound will heal once you enter. No more bloodshed. No more chains…just silk and silence.”

Camela spat through her tears, “I don’t want silence!” she screamed.

Her scream pierced the air, echoing like thunder. The door throbbed as the wind hesitated for the first time.

The First Bride's veil flickered uncertainly. “What did you say?”

Camela’s body trembled, but her voice rose again, strong and clear as she responded.

“I don’t want silence…I want my voice! I want my choice!”

The silk threads recoiled slightly, writhing around her arms in response.

Vincent's fire blazed brighter, his golden flames encircling her like a protective shield. His chest heaved with effort as he urged her.

“That’s it…don’t let her take that from you. Say it again.”

Camela screamed louder, her throat raw from strain as she spoke fiercely.

“I CHOOSE MYSELF! Not you!”

The ground trembled beneath them; cracks spread across the floor as statues stumbled unsteadily.

The First Bride hissed, her smile twisting into rage. “Ungrateful bride…”

The red light blazed brighter than ever before. The door creaked wide open, and the wind howled so loudly it hurt their ears.

Camela was pulled forward into taking another step, her body jerking as the silk crown on her head pulsed. Her scream echoed.

“Vincent!”

He pounced toward her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back with all his strength. His flames roared, so hot they turned white.

The light from the door slammed into him, almost knocking him off balance.

Camela’s feet scraped against the stone floor, leaving trails of blood. Though her body trembled, she still clawed and reached for him with wild eyes.

“Don’t let me go!”

“I won’t!” He shouted desperately from deep in his chest. “Camela…hold on to me!”

The First Bride stepped closer, her veil floating over the fire without being burned. Her ruined hand pointed at Camela’s crown. “No locks inside, bride. Just one more step and it’s over.”

The silk crown tightened painfully, thorns digging deeper into her skin as blood trickled down her face.

Vincent’s flames rose higher, but the red glow pushed back fiercely, engulfing his golden fire.

Camela's knees buckled beneath her as she gasped, her voice cracking. “I…I can’t…”

Vincent’s roar echoed through the hall:

“YES, YOU CAN!”

He pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the howling wind and crumbling statues around them.

But the First Bride just smiled; her voice was a whisper that slid sweetly yet sharply into their ears. “Run if you want, bride. But every step you take will only bring you closer to me because no locks inside means there’s no way out.”

The door flung open wider as red light flooded the hall.

Camela clung to Vincent and sobbed against his chest. “If it pulls me again…I don’t know if I can fight it…”

Vincent pressed his lips to her hair and said fiercely, “Then I’ll fight for both of us.”

The First Bride tilted her head slightly, and her veil fluttered as though she were laughing:

“Then burn together. The door will take you both.”

The red light surged—engulfing them whole.

Camela’s scream cut through the storm as the ground collapsed beneath them.

She fell and the silk threads dragged her downwards.

Vincent dove after her, his golden flames illuminating his path, with his hand stretched out.

Their fingers brushed—

And then the light snapped shut.

Darkness.