Novel & Cerita The Mortician's Daughter Black Veil Brides Lyrics

So, here we are on my wedding day, having every single guest wearing black garments as if we are here to mourn… well, today’s not a good day for either of us after all. The heavenly voices of the choir were supposed to lift my soul, but instead, I prayed so hard for the ground to open up and swallow me. I looked up, and our eyes met—those ice-green eyes that stared so deep into my heart, as if they wanted to behead me. The more we got nearer to the aisle, the more the sound of my heartbeat increased. We finally got there, and Dad gave my hand to the priest. He gave me one final smile before walking away.

A chorus of ‘AMENS’ before all eyes feast on me. Since I walked down the aisle, a ruckus has been stirring in my soul, like a calm before the storm. The Priest’s voice blares, “Do you take this man as your husband? For better or worse. In bounty and penury. Till death do you part?” Jacob's crooked teeth are on display. Short as a dwarf and nose like Pinocchio’s. A diamond ring glints between his skeleton-like fingers. “Milove?” I’LL NEVER FORGIVE MY MOTHER!

Perfect. Unaware. And then her heart broke. A crack formed. Through her pain, he reached. And through her pain, I felt the world again. Now— I sense his claws pushing through the Veil. I sense her soul slipping. I sense my daughter’s daughter fracturing between worlds. And I refuse to let her be devoured. Not while any part of my divinity remains. I thrust my hand through the Veil— burning screaming breaking— Reaching for the girl who carries my blood.

The black veil did nothing to hide the fact that my eyes were bone dry. I stood at the graveside with my gloved hands clasped in front of me, the picture of a concerned political wife paying respects, while the pastor droned on about Patrick Mane’s generous spirit and untimely passing. Alfred stood beside me, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the mahogany casket like he was willing it into the ground faster. His hand found the small of my back, and my skin crawled beneath my dress.

There is a piano in front of me, old with dark wood and slight scratches along the edges like it has been touched too many times by hands that meant something, and the room itself is endless though I can't see where it begins or ends, just shadows stretching too far in every direction and swallowing light before it can settle. And then her, this same girl again, my little Ghost, and she is always there before I understand why, a girl sitting at the piano with a white veil falling softly over her face, hiding everything except the parts my mind refuses to erase. Her eyes are gold, not normal gold and not human gold but something brighter, something that looks like it remembers me even when I

Like she knew something I didn't. Father Elias,” she said with her voice, mostly still hers– soft, melodic. The same voice that used to sing Vespers so beautifully it made the older sisters weep. But beneath that voice, ran something rougher, older and amused. “You came alone. Brave. Or stupid.” I set the leather case on the pew. Inside were the rite book, a vial of blessed oil, aspergillum and a crucifix. I forced my breathing steady.

Lily lay so still against the crisp white sheets, her small chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. I moved to her bedside on silent feet, not wanting to disturb the precious rest she so desperately needed. My fingers trembled as I reached out to brush a stray curl from her forehead, her skin was so cool beneath my touch. *What a pity soul,* I thought, the words catching in my throat like a sob. I don't want to lose my daughter. I don't want her to suffer. I don't want her to die. And Marcus, where was Marcus when our daughter needed him most? The thought brought a fresh wave of anger, hot and sharp. While I sat vigil beside our dying child, he was probably somewhere else which I

A scream of terror tore from the woman's throat, and she collapsed onto the bed, succumbing to the overwhelming horror before her. "Come to me, my bride," Lucifer, in his rumbling voice, claimed the baby from the bed. It was a girl, still stained with her birth's crimson essence. He entrusted the child to his devoted female servant, and together they departed, descending into the depths of the realm of darkness—Hell itself.

The priest stood on the top step reading from a black leather-bound book. From other articles I read on my laptop, vampires cannot stand anything holy which means the Storms should be writhing in pain and begging the priest to stop his ministrations but none of that happened. “From dust, we come and unto dust shall we return. It was Tessa’s time. We mourn her death but we hope to join her someday in our heavenly Father’s breast.” His assistant started a new hymn which the people echoed. I looked back to satisfy my curiosity and there was Silver singing passionately. Surely a vampire would not endanger herself by singing holy hymns?