Semua Bab Until The Last Day: Bab 31 - Bab 40

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

The pale hand pressed against her throat. It felt cold, damp, and all too real.Camela felt the impulse and scratched at it with her fingers.“Let go!” she screamed.The Bride watched, her veil tilting slightly as though she found it amusing. “Don’t fight it.” The grip tightened, and Camela felt her breath stuck in her chest. She kicked backward, her heels scraping the floor. The mirror's wavering surface yanked at her like water, swallowing the ends of her hair. “Help…” Camela cried out.The Bride finally made a move. One gloved hand waved through the air, and the grip disappeared. Camela fell to her knees, coughing heavily, her hands shaking against the stone floor. The Bride leaned in closer. “Consider that as your welcome.”Camela’s voice trembled. “What…what was that?”“A glimpse,” the Bride whispered. “Of what awaits you if you displease me.”The masked women stepped forward again and one of them grabbed Camela by her arm. “Dinner is waiting.” Camela staggered to her feet. “

When Camela regained consciousness, she was lying on a cold floor. Vincent lay beside her, breathing slowly. Camela rose despite her aching limbs and fear.Vincent woke up and called out to her. "Camela?"She knelt beside him. "I am here."He sat up carefully, leaning against the wall as he whispered, "We... they’re still watching."They looked up and saw the Bride reflected on every wall, without flames or candles, just reflections. Camela felt a chill run down her spine.In front of them stood a tall dress form holding a black gown. Its hem touched the floor. Camela recognized it, even in nightmares, because it reminded her of the funeral dresses she avoided as a child.She stepped forward. The fabric was so dark that it absorbed light. It had black lace, chunky beads, and a high collar. It looked more like mourning clothes than a wedding dress.She hurried over to him. "Wake up, Vincent."He coughed, squinting his eyes. "Don't," he muttered. "You almost…"Vincent's gaze fell on th

Camela's mother gradually removed her mask, revealing eyes that seemed dark and empty. “Mama?…” Camela called, her voice trembling. Her mother’s lips formed a sad smile. “You have been found guilty,” her mother stated. The hall fell silent. Camela's vision was clouded by tears, and her hands trembled as she confronted the masked tribunal. One of the judges, a masked woman dressed in black velvet, rose slowly. "Lady Camela. You're accused." Camela gulped hard. "Accused? Of what?" Her mother turned slowly and replied. “Of refusing.” Camela felt her breath caught in her throat. "Refusing what?" Her mother responded, "Refusing to obey. Refusing to wear the crown properly." Camela shook her head. "I have never..." The tribunal whispered to itself. The judge continued: "You carried the rose. You wore the ring. The red silk marked you." Another masked figure appeared—a man wearing a gold mask shaped like a pointed fox. "Lady, the rose stem you held was half-broken. That's a

Camela opened her mouth to scream, but all she could hear was the girl's voice, who had vanished. She sank to her knees, her head pounding. Camela shook with disbelief. She reached for her neck, but the voice had disappeared, and her voice returned, raw and shaking. She panicked and pressed another hand to her neck. She heard footsteps approaching, and a door creaked open behind the cage. A long table covered in red silk with crimson plates was set before her. The air was thick with the faint, metallic scent of blood. Masked figures dressed in red silk robes emerged from behind the table; their masks were bright red, with no expression. The silk they wore was stained— some with symbols, others with red drops that looked like dried blood. Vincent, poised and regal, stood at the center. He leaned in close to Camela. “Red flags,” he whispered. “They gave warnings but you ignored them.” The masked figures moved forward silently. Then took a bow before Camela. Trembling, Camela as