"Repeat after me."

"I pay my respects to the Elderly Gods. I pray them to bear witness to my marriage. May the Heaven above, the Eight Oceans and the Four Deserts bless our marriage with harmony."

Auxi's heart beat ferociously. She could hear it so clearly, out loud in her bones. Her temples throbbed, her eyes tearing. Even the ethereal beauty of the moss laden trees bent with age could not elevate her misery. The flawless sky mirrored her pain. The wisteria blooms swayed to the rhythmic breeze as the red silk thread fluttered between the two. Her husband and she. The priest had tied their little fingers together - a sign of connecting fates and everlasting love.

She did not wish to marry him. His very presence bore in on her, weighing in on her frail nerves. Her lips trembled, her cheeks pale. Perspiration shone on her face, exhausted from the exertion of keeping up this facade.

Her pleading eyes probed the priest but he too could not do anything. He looked right through her, as if she were made of thin air. And why should he look at her? Why would he? It would, rather should strike fear in the hearts of the bravest knights to look upon the soon to be wife of the Emperor of the Afterlife.

She could hear the crowd cheering outside the wooden gates. Cheering for their Queen. The beats of their drums echoed in her hollow bones. The red silk dress seemed unfit for her, it made her shudder. If she were to go through this, she knew she would never step out alive.

Her helplessness strengthened her resolve. If no one could help her, she would have to soldier up and become her own. The tall trees danced in the distance. The forest ahead was dark and dim.

She could not marry him.

She would not marry him.

Counting her minutes, she ran as fast as her feet could take her into the unwelcoming forest. The stories she had heard echoed in her mind - of ruthless carnivores, of the wild dog, Celebath, kept in the jungles which tore apart bodies, of the darkness the forest held. But these were better, far better than being his queen.

She could hear him ordering his soldiers. Her feet, now bloody, flying her through. She could hear them, closing in on her. Seizing the capacity of her body, she ran, leaving bloody footsteps.

She remembered the day he brought her home from this very forest. The day that brought the doom on her.

Thinking back, she shouldn't have said yes.

Now, she may never be able to leave.

Never.

Ever.

*

That day, the day he saw her and bequeathed upon her the glorious opportunity of being his wife, Groca was the one who found her.

She remembered herself gasping for breath in the mortal world as her heartbeat crashed. The pain of air leaving her lungs as her heart slowly stopped beating felt like being burnt alive, its flames kicking her insides. She remembered her mother holding her hands, wetting them with her tears. It wasn't as if she hadn't expected that she were to die. She had been sick for as long as she could remember. Maybe around her tenth birthday, her body literally started crashing down. She couldn't eat or even breathe by herself. Doctors couldn't make out what was wrong with her. They ran tests that drove her mother into severe debt just to leaving her hanging by a thread. They kept her in medically induced comas just to ease her through the pain. They called it 'intolerable for mortals'. She was finally let go of the writhing pain as her soul rose out of her body. She was thankful, to be let go of.

She remembered a hand, holding hers, helping her through. The memory was blurry, faint. She remembered elevating through the air, the warmth of the hand helping her through. The voice was so serene, a pure calm spread through her soul.

She remembered the voice telling her to hide. They were halfway through when she heard screams, blood spilling and cruel laughter serenading her journey as her mentor died. She could not see in the bright light; the ones in front of her mere outlines. She remembered her hair tangling in her fingers as she fell, fell so far away.

That was all she remembered when she opened her eyes here.

As the light seeped in, she saw Groca, cradling her in his arms as he ordered his soldiers to help her up. Her blood had stained his plaid shirt.

"Get her up! Take her to the dispensary!"

She had fallen from a great height she had heard him say. Probably on her way to Hell. It took her five days to awaken, her wounds healing slowly. She remembered him shrieking as she opened her eyes. Groca had fainted. And now she knew why.

That night he reported to his master, the Emperor of the Afterlife. He had finally found for his Master the bride he had wished for.

"Sire, today I found a mortal girl, gravely wounded. She seemed to have fallen from a great height. I have sent her to the dispensary for treatment."

"And why must you tell me this Groca?"

"Sire, she has those eyes, the heterochromal eyes you saw in your dream. I am astute in my belief that she is the one you must marry."

"Are you sure Groca?" The man's voice a sliver of absolute cold, sharp enough to cut through metal.

"Yes, sire."

"Then let the preparations begin!"

Groca seemed jubilant, after all, after all these years he had found the bride to be. But one thing was gravely amiss. Where did she fall off of? Was it fate or coincidence for the woman to have fallen right into his lap?

The very next day, her room was filled with ornaments and a wedding gown. Oh her fate! How it had failed her!

"Your eyes! Your eyes child! Like red emeralds, blue sapphires!"

He, the man who had rescued her, had by then introduced himself as Groca, a goblin who had worked for his master, the Emperor of the Afterlife for thousands of years. He had none of the green tint she thought goblins had. He resembled a human dwarf, his features sharp enough to cut paper.

He had taken care of her so lovingly. He had stayed up all these days and looking after her. And if there was anything her mother taught her, it was that if a stranger was talking exceptional care of you, there's always something behind the curtain. And her mother was never wrong.

When she was able enough to walk around, he had set her tea one evening. She could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I have had to go to the extremities of my abilities to help you and have tirelessly worked to help you get better."

"Though, I must admit it was not all for your well-being. The day I saw you, I saw those eyes of yours. Heterochromia, one is emerald blue and opal red, whereas the other is black. Pitch black. When I saw you, you could barely open your eyes, but when I saw them I resolved to see you further." He sipped his tea through pursed lips.

"Long ago, my Master had a premonition. It is very rare though, for the Great Gods to allow glimpses to us. He was told he must marry someone like you. Someone with those eyes of yours."

Groca sat up straight, his fingers tapping on the mahogany chair.

"We have searched wide and far, but we couldn't find it. And now, we have you and you have so comfortably fallen in our laps." A smile shone on his face, a rare occurrence rather.

"We have been waiting for you. For so, so long. My master saw you the very day I found you and has decided to wed you tomorrow evening." Was her life a joke? Was she currency to be handed around? She blamed her luck; she always seemed to fall through the cracks.

"Do you even know my name?" She stood up, a revolution storming in her veins.

"You cannot do this to me! I must leave!"

"And where are you to go to?" A hint of smirk arose within him, a sinister smile."We found you, healed you, the least you can do is this."

"What if I say no?"

"Can you?"

He eyes glanced on the heavy forests that surrounded the castle. Guards at every post. It was near impossible to go out unharmed. She had heard the howls herself and the cries. The shrieks of people crying for life. Like spring lambs being slaughtered. A deadly bleat.

"I believe you have understood my proposition and have accepted it. Tomorrow, your maids will brief you on what is to be done. You will be wed tomorrow."

She lapsed in her chair, its warmth welcoming her. Her breath heavy. How could they do this to her? Her mind was a nervous wreck. She could barely eat that evening, turning and tossing the entire night. There must be a way out.

"Umm, how do you go out on holidays or stuff?" she tried asking her maids as they pinned her up for her forthcoming wedding.

"No, madame. We were born here, in the palace. We do not know of any outside." Looking outside with a mournful expression, they told her of the horrors the forest held. Hungry animals fighting for blood, Celebath, their Master's dog who fed only on the fresh flesh of the fawns that grazed here. Maids gave the forest a wide berth, people were said to get lost in there and they could be heard screaming as Celebath chewed on them.

"Madame, you do not wish to go there. You do not. Take it in stride madame."

Before she could enquire further, someone knocked on her doors.

She had been dressed up, a silk red gown, her hair adorned by gold ornaments. She shone with red lips in the sunlight. The gold shone against her jet black her, each of her fingers showcasing a different gemstone.

Staunch footsteps echoed through the hallways, followed by a deafening silence. The maids fell to the ground at once, bowing their heads as if under a spell. Her eyes went wide with shock as the doors burst open and a tall shadow lingered about. She didn't know what to do. Following suit, she too bent, as far as her dress allowed her.

She could see the shadow getting nearer. The tips of a man's suede shoes stopped right in front of her.

"Look at me," the husky voice commanded her. Fear gripped her as she found herself unable to move, like one of the statues in the palace's front yard. He reached out his hand to hold up her jaw with one of his fingers, and looked straight at her, like traders look at goods, like auctioneers look at paintings – the look of inhabiting something to ruin, to make one mine. She could see the hollows of his cheeks, the arch of his jaw. Everything about him individually lent serenity but on him it spelt death, disaster and gloom. His hair brushed the arches of the door as he stood before her, gauging her every movement.

"What's your name?"

"Auxilium."

She felt like she couldn't breathe. That man. His face contoured with hate, his shifty gaze, his very presence scared her. He looked like the kind who came close to people only to find to weakest spots to stab. His eyes, red like fire that engulfs innocent lives. Hatred lived in his veins and she could feel his cold heart from yards away.

"Wh.. what's your name?"

He sure looked amused as she asked. He hadn't in his life seen anyone muster enough courage to ask him. He had only seen people cower and shake as he beheaded them with his blade.

"You do not wish to know mine."

That was the only time she had met him before the wedding.

*

She could hear the soldiers running after her but she ran out of breath before she could cross the threshold.

Soldiers took hold of her, as they marched her back to the altar. Her head hung in shame, for not that she was caught, for she could not run away.

The look on the priest's face sealed her fate.

"Lock her in the dungeons!"

Bewildered was not a word that could define the frenzy that took over her. Her eyes glared, like opals. For forging a sword, you must heat it first. Red, blue then white.

Sitting for tea that afternoon, his eyes evaded his butler, Groca. He had lost face now, all because of her. He had met her twice now and each time she had been able to amuse him with her careless antics. There was only one thing that troubled him – usually souls return to Hell. Alone. But she was being taken towards the Heavens and someone was with her. It could mean one thing – there was someone who wanted her, other than himself. But it didn't matter as long as his uncle was willing to get her off of his hands. He hoped as soon as possible though, she was becoming a handful so quick. He dismissed Groca, to summon Celebath, his canine.

Under the moonless skies, he saw it; celestial blood dripping from his jowls; shining effervescently. He had seen it the day she came here when he had been hunting. Fresh celestial blood all over but he couldn't find the injured. If, only if, she was being escorted by someone from High Above, it would mean someone powerful wanted her. And his belief became concrete as he saw the white cloth under Celebath's paw. The one the Arch Angels had, with gold threads. The threat had become real now.