All Chapters of Until The Last Day: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The First Bride dragged Vincent toward the open door, his boots scraping against the stone floor. Her tattered gown trailed ash as she dragged him along, and her voice weaved through the hallway like a dark spell. “Every step she takes is a goodbye…” she murmured, her veil brushing against his cheek. “Vincent!” Elias shouted with a voice like thunder. He rushed forward with a silver light erupting from his hands, and chains of fire swirling in the air. They wrapped around the First Bride’s arm, sparking against her rotted skin. She screamed as her broken head jerked back. For a brief moment, her face transformed into Camela’s again—filled with fear and trembling. Vincent felt a burning sensation in his chest as he called out to her, “Camela! Fight back!” The illusion shattered instantly, and the First Bride’s sinister grin returned with black roses spilling from her mouth. The hall trembled as the elders screamed; some ran while others chanted in strange tongues that seemed to w

The darkness loomed around her as she fell. Roots whipped against her arms, binding her wrists. The air was thick with the scent of blood and damp soil. Camela felt her breath caught in her throat as she twisted, but each movement dragged her further down. “Vincent! Elias! Is anyone there…?” Her shout echoed back, swallowed by the pit. Then she heard a faint yet piercing voice carried through the roots—The First Bride“No one can hear you here, except for me. Just me,” the First Bride whispered.Camela shut her eyes tight in response as she screamed. “Leave me alone…let me go!The roots pulled tighter, slamming her body against the pit's wall and dirt showered over her face. Suddenly—complete silence envelopes the atmosphere. She hit her body hard on solid ground, her knees buckling against the marble floor. The pit sealed closed above her with no light but total darkness. The room sighed as the roots shifted, and a soft voice echoed through the walls—low and broken:“Camela…”

Camela tumbled downwards. The darkness gripped her like a hand around her throat, pulling her deeper into its depths. Her scream was silenced and swallowed by the rushing void. Chains whipped past her, some snapping while others cut into her skin as she fell further into the void. The red glow of the chamber above shrank away until it disappeared completely. Only the whisper lingered in the air: “You’re almost mine…” Desperately, Camela clawed at the air around her, her nails digging into emptiness. “No! I’m not yours…I will never be yours!” she replied fiercely.The voice responded with a soft laugh that caressed her ears. “That’s what I thought too. Do you know how long it takes for ‘never’ to turn into ‘always’? Just long enough for you to stop fighting.” Suddenly, Camela’s body jolted as the fall began to slow. She realized she wasn’t floating; she was sinking until her feet touched something solid. Stumbling forward, she found herself facing a door unlike any other. It wa

The void swallowed her. Air rushed from Camela’s lungs as she fell through the endless darkness. Her fingers clawed at nothing, and her throat felt raw from her own scream. “Vincent!” Her cry broke apart as she spun, her body weightless, continuing to fall. But there was no reply—only the sound of rushing silence. Then, without warning, her body crashed against something unseen. Her back hit hard, but she didn’t break. Instead, she found herself floating, suspended in the air as if by invisible hands. She gasped, her heart racing. The dark pressed in around her, so thick it felt alive. And then came laughter. At first, it sounded soft and thin like a whisper, it wrapped around her like smoke. The voice of the First Bride echoed in the air. “Still screaming? How delightful. How full of life.” Camela struggled, flailing her arms against the invincible grip. “Let me go!” she shouted.The laughter deepened. “Can’t you see, bride? Your screams are mine. They feed the pit and give m

Darkness weighed heavily around her. Camela gasped, but no sound escaped her lips. The thorns of the gown pierced deeper into her skin, and warm blood began dripping down her arms. The First Bride's voice slithered through the darkness:“You fight as though you matter,” she whispered. “But you are only a vessel…a shell for the crown. Nothing more.” “Get out of my head!” Camela shouted, her voice strained. The darkness responded with chilling laughter. Vincent’s chains clanked loudly. “Camela! Stay with me!” His voice cut through the void. “Don’t listen…” But the voice drowned him out—smooth, toxic, and sweet. “Do you really think his love protects you? No. It binds you tighter than my thorns ever will." The gown crept up to her throat, twisting like vines, its thorns scraping against her neck. Camela clawed at it, but her nails broke against the cursed fabric. “Stop!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “I won’t wear you! I refuse!” “You already are,” came the reply.