ROWAN
Ah, damn it all! What a mess. After everything that's happened, here I am, locked up in the Green Pavilion. I had managed to escape the MoonBound ceremony initially, but now fate has caught up with me. The thought of being tied down to a royal figure fills me with dread. I have no desire for marriage, especially not with someone like my father, who has multiple wives and neglects many of them. This is all part of a tradition that dates back to the first Emperor of Jingajar, who married women from the seven founding clans to solidify his power. The next ruler was chosen through a fierce heir challenge, a brutal contest that only men could participate in. I've come to terms with the fact that I know nothing about my siblings—an unfortunate consequence of avoiding the MoonBound.
The Green Pavilion, where I'm now confined, is a grand yet confining place. Designed for those with lower cultivation, it's lavish but isolated. The hall is spacious, with high ceilings and polished marble floors that amplify every sound. Surrounding the pavilion are beautifully manicured gardens, featuring plum trees in full bloom. Their delicate pink blossoms gently sway in the breeze, offering a touch of natural beauty that contrasts sharply with the restrictive atmosphere inside.
In the center of the pavilion is a large, serene pool. The water's surface is perfectly still, mirroring the sunlight that filters through the trees. It provides a deceptive sense of calm, a brief respite from the oppressive confinement. Despite the luxury of the setting, the reality of my situation is harsh. The pavilion's grandeur does little to comfort me, serving only as a reminder of the fate that awaits.
Still, the very idea of living under a man's control seems utterly absurd to me.
"Misss!!!!" Tara's voice shatters my thoughts. She had abandoned me earlier, but now here she is, looking nervous and remorseful. I close my eyes and let out an irritated sigh.
"I'm sorry, Miss," Tara pleads, her voice quivering with genuine fear. "The thought of meeting the Emperor was overwhelming."
I take a long sip from my wine as I rest against one of the plum trees, the wine's warmth spreading through me. "So, what do you want now?" I ask, my tone dripping with exasperation.
Tara's voice grows more frantic. "Please, Miss, I am so, so sorry! But I have something for you." She produces a jar from her bag, and as soon as I catch a whiff of its aroma, a wave of serenity washes over me. The fragrance is like being on a secluded island, enveloped in the essence of the finest elven liquor. This is no ordinary drink—its rich, complex scent hints at its origin: the renowned Bellow Summer, one of the most exquisite liquors crafted in the Elven Kingdom. It's notoriously expensive, but thanks to Iffere, I've had the pleasure of tasting it before. The experience was transformative.
"Where the hell did you get that?" I descend from my perch and rush toward Tara, who beams as I snatch the jar from her hands. I inhale deeply, savoring the intoxicating aroma with my eyes closed, letting the scent wash over me like a wave of nostalgia.
"You still know your liquor, Miss Rowan," a deep voice calls from above, interrupting my reverie. I glance up to find Elarion lounging effortlessly on a thin branch high in the plum tree. As always, his lithe form defies the laws of gravity, making you wonder if he has any mass at all. His commanding height, slender physique, and long silver hair that seems to glow even in the dim light—it's not yet dark, yet it shimmers as if kissed by moonlight. He's clad in a black hunter's outfit, his bow slung across his back, and the familiar shell whistle dangles from his fingers.
"How long has it been, my lady?" His voice is as deep and rich as ever, carrying a note of casual intimacy as he gazes up at the sky. "You've grown into quite a beauty."
I roll my eyes, though I can't help the slight smile that tugs at my lips. "Seriously, Elarion, you've gotten even more flirtatious in the past two years."
He finally shifts his gaze to meet mine, his silver eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. His slightly elongated ears peek through his silvery locks, adding to his ethereal allure. He smirks as he brings the whistle to his lips, playing a gentle, haunting tune that seems to wrap around us like a soft breeze.
Elarion Solen of the Silverleaf, is one of the most formidable elves I've ever encountered. He's no ordinary being—he's one of the false deities, a powerful presence who seems to dance between realms with ease. His presence, both comforting and unnerving, has always kept me on edge.
"So, how have you been, my lady?" Elarion asks as he tucks away his whistle, the soft melody still lingering in the air. His voice carries a teasing warmth, as if he's amused by the familiar scene before him. "I see you're still the troublemaker. The last time we met, you were in this very spot."
"Isn't it obvious?" I retort, taking a swig of the liquor. The fiery warmth settles in my chest, but it does nothing to ease the frustration gnawing at me.
"You mean the MoonBound? I did help you escape last time," he remarks, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. I can already tell by the shift in his expression that he won't be extending the same favor this time.
"And what about you?" I challenge, narrowing my eyes at him. "I heard all the false deities are expected to attend this one."
"So it seems," he replies, shrugging as if the matter is trivial. "Well, it is what it is, as the humans say," he adds with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
A spark of an idea ignites in my mind, and I tilt my head, scrutinizing him. "Hey, Elarion, by the looks of it, you've broken through to the second stage of a false deity, haven't you?"
"Is it that obvious?" he asks, arching a brow, though I can tell he's more curious than surprised.
"Of course," I smirk, feeling a surge of pride. "You know my eyes can see through anyone's cultivation. Apart from my pathetic condition of Herless body, my vision is unmatched. I can even see your true attribute—Fate Slasher."
He chuckles softly, though there's a note of seriousness in his voice when he responds. "So you can perceive my state. What an intriguing ability you possess, my lady. But you know that defying fate comes with severe consequences."
"The only consequence I fear," I counter, meeting his gaze steadily, "is what happens if I end up married to someone I don't love."
"Are you implying that you're in love with me?" he asks, the corners of his mouth curling into a scoff. "Because I'm destined to marry someone else."
"What? Seriously, Solen?" I exclaim, incredulous. "You elves live such long lives—just helping out for a single day won't hurt you."
His gaze lifts to the horizon as if contemplating something far beyond our conversation. "Someone is coming," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper as he locks eyes with me for a brief moment. "We'll see about that," he adds, and then, as if he were nothing more than a figment of my imagination, he vanishes in the blink of an eye.
"Hey, loser..." Flollisa's voice cuts through the air as she descends with her usual entourage in tow. The three ladies behind her are from families under the rule of her clan—the Red Peacock Clan. As always, she carries her peacock fan, a symbol of her family's pride. "You're still here? Don't tell me you're actually planning to attend the event?" she sneers, her mockery echoing through the group as the others burst into laughter.
"What do you want, Flollisa?" I snap, glaring at her as she begins to circle around me like a predator toying with its prey.
"You're actually drinking after what happened earlier," she says, her voice laced with disdain as her eyes narrow in disgust.
"I asked, what do you want?" My tone sharpens, my patience wearing thin.
"Isn't it obvious?" Violet's voice interjects smoothly as she appears from the shadows. Tara immediately darts behind me, her fear palpable. Violet has always been cruel to her, ever since we were children. I remember how she used to cage Tara, forcing her into her swan form, and even tried to sell her off before Uncle intervened. Tara has been terrified of her ever since.
"Please, don't attend the event," Violet continues, her voice dripping with venom. "It would be a disgrace for the Grimclaws. After all, you are a disgrace," she sneers, her words cutting deep.
"I dare you—" I begin, but the words catch in my throat as the liquor I'd just swallowed burns in my chest. I choke, gasping for air as I drop to my knees, the jar slipping from my fingers. Desperately, I try to breathe, but it feels like the world is closing in around me.
"You haven't learned your lesson yet, have you? Don't you dare talk back to me!" Violet snarls, her voice filled with contempt as she shoves Tara aside. Her hand grips my hair, yanking me up and forcing me to meet her gaze. The pain shoots through my scalp, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of crying out. "You think I couldn't sense Solen's power here? Trying to seduce him into saving you?" She laughs, a cold, mocking sound that makes my blood boil. "Don't make me laugh. During the MoonBound, you might be lucky enough to be chosen. So do us all a favor and stay out of it," she hisses before throwing me to the ground like I'm nothing more than a piece of trash.
I hit the earth hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. Violet's energy flares as she destroys the barrier around the pavilion, her power effortlessly tearing through it. "Run away, like you always do," she taunts as she and her followers turn to leave, their laughter echoing in my ears, mingling with the curses they throw back at me.
Tara rushes to my side, helping me to my feet as I grit my teeth, the rage inside me simmering dangerously close to the surface. My fists clench, my nails digging into my palms as I fight to keep control. This is the fate of those with the Herless condition—those of us who are born without the ability to cultivate like others. We're considered weak, and worthless, especially when we have royal blood running through our veins.
It was even worse when I was a child. Violet and Flollisa have always been after me, trying to push me out of their way. They wanted me gone, but they couldn't touch me because of Uncle's protection. Even so, I knew his shield only extended so far. I resolved to survive on my own until I met my master. He was the one who told me to abandon cultivation—it would only kill me. Instead, he taught me the art of gambling, the thrill of it. Those were the best years of my life, filled with risk and reward, with a sense of freedom I had never known.
But now, trapped in this place, I can't afford to keep running. I need to get out of here, and Solen is my only chance. Wiping the blood from my mouth, I set my jaw in determination. Like hell I'm running this time. I won't cower to them anymore. I won't let them break me.
____________________________________________________________________________
The moon hung high, its silver rays casting a serene glow over the Wedding pavilion, highlighting every intricate detail with an ethereal light. The pavilion, draped entirely in rich, crimson veils, stood as a beacon of tradition in the middle of Lake Tigris. The structure was ancient, its origins lost to time, yet it remained untouched by the elements. It had no roof, exposing the vast, starry sky above, and at its core, wild plum and cherry blossoms flourished. These trees, unlike any others, cycled through all four seasons regardless of the time of year—one-moment bearing delicate spring blooms, the next adorned with autumn's fiery hues.
Eight grand paths led to the pavilion, each path a tribute to one of the eight powerful races. These paths diverged into mini-halls that represented the immortals, humans, elves, dwarfs, Mermen, Beasters, Agrin clans, and the shadow clan. The architecture of each mini-hall reflected the essence of its race, creating a tapestry of diversity that converged at the pavilion's heart. Surrounding the pavilion, the waters of Lake Tigris shimmered with a mystical light, shifting between vibrant shades of blue, green, and orange, as if the lake itself were alive, breathing in harmony with the rhythms of the universe.
We, the delegation from the human realm, were the first to arrive. The emperor led our group, his presence commanding, followed by the five princesses, each of us adorned in the finest garments, our faces hidden behind elegant veils. The Guardian, ever vigilant, stood beside the emperor, while the elders walked behind, their expressions marked by the weight of the occasion.
"Are you nervous?" My uncle's voice was a quiet murmur in my ear, a stark contrast to the solemnity surrounding us. He had accompanied me, as always.
"What do you think?" I ask, trying to catch my uncle's attention as my sisters send sharp, disapproving glares our way. He simply whistles, seemingly indifferent to their hostility, and strides forward with easy confidence as we approach our designated hall. Inside, the space is arranged with three imposing seats at the front for the ruler and those in the highest positions of power, while the rest of us are seated in a row according to our rank.
Though I'm technically older than both Violet and Flollisa, the harsh reality of our hierarchy is evident in the seating arrangement. I'm placed at the very end, a constant and bitter reminder that I'm seen as the lowest among us—a reject, unworthy of anything more.
We're all dressed in pristine white bastille gowns, the fabric flowing elegantly around us. Our hair is pinned up with ornate accessories, each piece a symbol of our respective clans. I steal a glance over my shoulder and catch sight of my uncle, who has boldly taken one of the elder's seats. A smug, almost taunting smile plays on his lips as if he's deliberately mocking the entire affair.
Just as I'm about to return my gaze forward, a sudden cold breeze sweeps across the hall, sending a shiver down my spine. I turn to see the Elves making their entrance. They move with an otherworldly grace, dressed in deep green hunting attire that accentuates their connection to the natural world. At the forefront is the Elven King, a figure of legend and awe. His presence commands attention—it's said that he's undergone the five stages of evolution, an ancient process that has granted him the mysterious third eye. This eye, according to the tales, allows him to tap into the very essence of nature, enabling him to perceive the souls of others.
Behind him strides Prince Keirran, his firstborn son, who mirrors his father's robust physique and quiet strength. Keirran's muscular frame is both imposing and graceful. Following closely are Solen and three other elven princesses, each of them radiating the same ethereal beauty and poise that their race is known for.
As the Elves take their positions, the dwarfs enter next, their heavy footsteps reverberating through the hall. They are followed by the other races, each group taking their designated places with a sense of solemnity and respect for the proceedings.
Finally, they arrive… The air itself seems to have stopped momentarily to welcome them.
As they make their entrance, the air grows heavy with a palpable energy, one so intense that it seems to press against your chest, making it hard to breathe. I've only ever encountered lower-level beings of their kind before, never having had the privilege—or perhaps the misfortune—of meeting a royal. Their previous visits to the castle occurred when I wasn't present, leaving me unprepared for the sheer magnitude of their presence.
The Immortals step forward with an otherworldly grace that seems almost ethereal. The females are adorned in flowing white robes that ripple like silk with each movement, catching the light in a way that makes them appear to float just above the ground. Their robes are adorned with intricate patterns, shimmering subtly under the moonlight. The males, meanwhile, are dressed in pristine white linen shirts and long trousers, their attire simple yet impeccably elegant. They move with a slow, deliberate pace, their steps measured and composed, but their presence commands an undeniable gravity. Their arrival has drawn the eyes of everyone present, as the gathering is abuzz with anticipation for their deity's arrival. Many of the women here, their faces a mix of hope and trepidation, eagerly wait for a chance to be chosen by fate and bound to him.
At the forefront of their procession is him, with a formidable power and presence. His dark skin gleams under the soft moonlight, and the intricate dragon tattoo etched on his left arm seems to come alive, glowing with a faint, otherworldly light. His aura, both fearsome and soothing, envelops him like a cloak, creating an atmosphere of reverence and awe. Every step he takes sends a ripple through the crowd, and with each movement, the ground seems to hum with the weight of his authority. My heart races uncontrollably, responding to the rhythmic, powerful strides he makes. Our eyes lock briefly, and the sheer intensity of his gaze sends a jolt through me, causing my pulse to quicken even further.
An unexpected wave of pain and confusion sweeps over me, bringing with it a disorienting sense of familiarity. A voice, though not my own, calls out in the distance, its tone warm and strangely comforting, as if it's reaching across an expanse of time and space to wrap around me like a comforting embrace. This fleeting yet intense sensation causes me to tremble, and I instinctively lower my head, trying to escape the overwhelming rush of emotions.
"Rowan!" my uncle's voice cuts through the haze, filled with a note of concern. "Are you alright?"
I hastily wipe away the tears that have started to form at the corners of my eyes, my breath coming in uneven gasps as I attempt to regain my composure. When I finally looked up, the event is already in full swing. The hall is alive with movement and conversation, and my eyes search the room until they find Solen, who acknowledges me with a brief but reassuring nod.
The Pavilion Masters, three ancient siblings over five hundred years old, exude an aura of unmatched pride. With a single, effortless gesture, they shift the entire landscape as though we've been thrust into a new realm altogether. A colossal tree now looms before us, its leaves glowing with a soft, otherworldly light. The spirit energy emanating from it is both serene and dignified, and there's no mistaking the vitality pulsing within—it's as if the tree itself is alive, watching us with silent wisdom.
"First, I must thank you all for gathering at such an important event," one of the masters began, his voice carrying a commanding presence. In his hand, he held a large, ornate whip, its intricate carvings telling tales of ancient rituals. "For over a century, we have united couples from different races, ensuring their happiness and harmony. Not a single complaint has ever been raised, and today, just as in the past, we come together for another union. This time, however, we are here for our esteemed Lords." He paused, his fingers thoughtfully stroking the long, silver beard that framed his stern face.
Two attendants, who had stood by quietly, now stepped forward, each cradling a massive drum in their arms. With a deep, resonant strike, the drums echoed through the pavilion, and the ancient tree at the center began to sway gently. Suddenly, it burst into bloom, not with flowers or fruit, but with marbles of varying sizes, each one glowing in a kaleidoscope of colors.
"When your name appears on the screen," the master continued, gesturing toward a floating, shimmering display that hovered above the gathered crowd, "the ladies will step forward. A marble will choose you, and once it lands in your hand, the name of your fated partner will be revealed."
I was all too familiar with this ritual, the steps etched into my memory. Now, all I could do was wait, my hope resting on Solen's power. Everything depended on the attributes he would grant me—my entire future hung in the balance.
Two princesses from distant lands were the first to approach, their steps measured and deliberate. As the master had described, their fated partners' faces and names appeared on the marbles they caught. Some of the princesses might have harbored doubts or dissatisfaction, but in the MoonBound ceremony, the chosen were bound together for life. This was why I despised the occasion. You had no say in the matter—your mate was selected for you, regardless of who they were, be they dwarf or elf. But this was how peace was kept among the races, how harmony was preserved across all realms.
I turned to my sisters, catching the glint of determination in their eyes. They were all focused, their gazes fixed on the screen, each one hoping to be bound to a deity.
Soon, it was Violet's turn. She moved with the elegance of a queen, each step purposeful as she approached the ancient tree. As her foot touched the ground in a final, decisive step, a fierce gust of wind rippled through the air, shaking the tree's branches. A large golden marble, gleaming with an otherworldly light, fell into her waiting hand. Inside the marble, the name Chesten appeared—second deity from the beast realm, feared and revered for his unparalleled strength and commanding presence. I stare at him and I can't even see his cultivation. There is a wolf aura that shields him.
"How fitting," I scoffed, the words escaping before I could restrain them.
"What's wrong, sister? Nervous about who you'll be paired with?" Fillosa's voice rang out, laced with a mocking sweetness that set my teeth on edge.
"She might be bound to Lexus—he'd suit her well enough," Asdeff chimed in, her voice as cold as the black flowers that adorned her otherwise white attire. Her makeup, as always, was dark, adding to her forbidding appearance.
"You're all so loud today," Elara interrupts her tone a mix of irritation and amusement. She held her smoke pipe delicately, her hair and eyes shimmering in ever-changing hues. She was often called the fairest of us all, and though I didn't despise her, there was a distance between us. Elara didn't ignore me like the others, but that didn't mean she saw me as an equal. To her, I was a side character in the story she starred in, a plot device rather than a person. Oddly enough, I almost preferred the cruelty of the others—it was straightforward- and honest. But Elara's indifference, masked as kindness, always left me seething.
"If he's so wonderful, why don't you claim him for yourself?" Asdeff suggested, her lips curving into a sly smile.
"Perhaps I will," Elara replied, rising gracefully as her name appeared on the screen. A large marble descended toward her, glowing with a vibrant green light—a sign of fortune. She had indeed been lucky, paired with none other than Donzel of the mermans, the deity of poems and beautiful songs, known far and wide as the fairest man across all lands. His grace and charm were enough to make anyone fall for him at first glance. Yet despite his allure, there was a truth that could not be ignored—he was a false deity, something everyone should remember.
"Bloody hell!" Asdeff spat, digging her nails into her palms. "He was the one I wanted! Damn it! Damn it! I fucking wanted him!" She cursed, her frustration spilling over as she stomped her feet in agitation.
"Relax, sister. There's still him," Flollisa said, her voice calm as her gaze drifted toward the immortals. Our attention followed hers, settling on him. He actually sat in the clan leader's seat, surrounded by the rest of his kin, with only two elders standing beside him. His expression was one of sheer indifference, his posture relaxed, as though he found the entire ritual a tiresome affair. Boredom was etched into every line of his face.
I exhaled slowly, trying to clear my mind, but a sudden, sharp pain struck me, and a vivid vision took hold. I saw a woman dressed in red, her features hazy, walking through a garden of blooming flowers. Beside her, a man in matching red strolled with her, their expressions radiating pure happiness.
Happy? What is this? I wondered, bewildered by the intensity of the emotions coursing through me. It felt as though I were experiencing her joy firsthand as if her feelings were my own. The familiarity was unnerving, almost as if she and I were somehow connected—as if she were another version of me, living in a different time or place.
"Rowan!" My uncle's voice pulled me from the daze, and I blinked to find every eye in the room fixed on me. Forcing a smile, I turned my head to the screen, where my name now glowed in soft, ethereal light. I hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. "You okay?" my uncle asked, concern etched in his tone.
I nodded, though my heart pounded with a fierce rhythm, each beat amplifying the awareness that all eyes were on me. Rising, I made my way toward the tree, feeling the intensity of their gazes like a tangible force. I stole a quick glance back at my family, their expressions varying from indifference to mild curiosity—except for my uncle, whose encouraging smile held a silent message of 'good luck.'
Before I took another step, I met Solen's gaze. His eyes brightened, a subtle spark of his aura reaching out to me. I could feel it, his power intertwining with mine, sending a rush of energy through my veins. *This is it, girl,* I told myself, his spirit filling me with determination. All I had to do was grasp the globe, and his fate would be sealed, inscribed on it for all to see. This was my chance—my freedom.
A smile tugged at my lips as I stepped into the tree's sacred radius. But instead of a gusty wind, the ground beneath me began to glow, pulsing with a soft, luminous light. Flowers burst forth from the earth with every step I took, their petals unfurling in a kaleidoscope of colors. They bloomed in my wake, an ever-growing garden of vivid blossoms, each one more breathtaking than the last.
I glanced around, marveling at the display of life that seemed to spring forth at my command. The elders, usually so composed, wore expressions of utter bewilderment, their confusion mirroring the wonder I felt.
Not only were the elders bewildered, but I, too, felt a thrill of anticipation as I turned to see a black marble floating before me. It spun slowly, its surface shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors that shifted with each passing second. As the marble drifted closer, a powerful force emanated from it, pushing me backward with a sudden, almost tangible pressure. Yet, there was something else—a magnetic pull, an invisible tether that seemed to draw me toward it.
I fought against the force, determined to reach the marble. As I drew near, the intense pressure dissipated, replaced by a soothing fragrance that wafted through the air. The scent was delicate, calming, and utterly enchanting, like a gentle breeze carrying the essence of a blooming garden.
Before I could even grasp the marble, the screen flashed with a name and an image. The face of the figure appeared, not just as a mere likeness but also in his dragon form. His aura radiated from the marble, a powerful and overwhelming presence that made my heart race uncontrollably. The name displayed was one that commanded fear and respect across realms: The hero and savior of every realm—Roderan Dragneel...
The realization hit me like a thunderclap. How could this be? It's just impossible! Him of all people, bound to a looser like me. It just doesn't make sense! No it can't be, I didn't even use Solen spirit energy. That's right, his fate… I turn around but…
A lot of commotion comes from all present. I race my face back and even my kin are on their feet. Confused, admiration, and anger coming from them.
"Impossible!" Flollisa shouted, her voice trembling. "What in the world…" But before she could complete her outburst, Roderan's aura cut through the clamor, imposing an immediate silence. His gaze was so commanding it made us all feel insignificant. Even the tree, once steadfast and still, began to tremble, its branches parting to clear a path for him.
Though he remained seated, an overwhelming force seemed to hold me in place, even as every instinct screamed for me to flee. In the blink of an eye, he was standing before me, his imposing figure towering over me.
"What in the hell have you done?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, each word carrying a weight that seemed to press down on my very soul. Our eyes locked, and at that moment, the air between us crackled with an intensity that left me breathless and uncertain.
"I—I haven't done anything," I stuttered, avoiding his piercing gaze. "I swear…"
"Enough with the deception!" Roderan's voice boomed, filled with searing intensity. "Do you think I can't sense that surging power within you?" His eyes, glowing a rich, dark brown, seemed to penetrate my very essence. "Do you think I'm blind to it?" His fury was palpable, and before I could utter a word, the marble began to spin with frenetic energy, its whirling motion accompanied by a high-pitched whine.
With a sudden burst, the marble shattered, releasing a swirling, dark mist that filled the air. My heart pounded as the mist coiled around me, its touch disconcertingly cold and insubstantial. It felt less like a substance and more like an elusive entity, as though it were a living presence.
The mist settled around my wrist, and I turned to see Roderan experiencing the same phenomenon. The dark tendrils encircled his wrist before converging on ours, pulling us together with a magnetic force.
I collided with his chest, his left arm securing me around the waist. Our gazes locked, and I was enveloped by his scent and the warmth of his breath. The familiarity was striking, and as my heart transitioned from frantic beats to a deep, aching throb, it was clear that this sensation was not of mere anxiety but a profound, gentle pain. It was the kind of ache that comes with the reunion of souls long separated.
Whispers of confusion and murmurs rippled through the crowd, drawing every eye to our joined hands. There, a shape had materialized, consisting of seven concentric circles, each inscribed within the next, with the innermost circle showcasing a heart at its center. The design shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow, radiating an aura of profound significance. Alongside the intricate seal, a delicate thread materialized on both of our pinky fingers, resembling a chain that bound us together.
The outcry grew louder and more frantic.
"But how?!" an elder from the pavilion exclaimed, pushing forward in disbelief. "How can the thread of fate and the seal of love appear together? And at the same time? That's… That's utterly impossible! JUST IMPOSSIBLE"