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Morning.
Wrath-Bridge, Wyfkeep Castle.
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They continued their walk and the atmosphere shifted, it grew thick with an intense, eerie heat that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break. The morning sun became a distant memory, the chill creeping around them as they climbed the bridge. Mist swirled from the water below, adding to the sense of foreboding that settled over Salviana.
"I told you not to say a word earlier," Alaric growled, his voice low and fierce, slicing through the tension.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling both embarrassed and rebellious.
Did he expect an apology?
"Apparently, I didn't listen," she replied stubbornly as they ascended the bridge, despite her heart racing.
"You should've," he shot back, a hint of irritation lacing his tone.
Secretly rolling her eyes, she muttered under her breath, "I didn't know some princes skipped courtesy lessons."
His lips quirked into a smirk, a fleeting moment of humour in the otherwise charged air. "I told you to trust me," he reminded her, and his tone held a weight that made her stomach flutter.
But because he insistently asked for it didn't mean she has to give it.
"Where are we going?" she asked, a mixture of curiosity and dread bubbling within her but he doesn't reply as they continued walking.
Silence enveloped them as they reached the bridge's midpoint, where the mist thickened and the chill intensified. Salviana felt her heart quicken, a primal instinct warning her to be wary. She became stiff and silent, the anticipation gnawing at her nerves.
The dark prince halted, and she found herself unable to move forward, fear anchoring her in place despite being in front.
He placed his warm palm against her lower back, igniting an unexpected heat that contrasted sharply with the cold around them.
How could a vampire's touch feel so comforting? With the eerie fog enveloping them, she drew a deep breath, suddenly aware of the contrast between his warmth and the chill of the atmosphere.
"Salviana," he breathed softly. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Was he planning to kill her here? A wave of fear washed over her, and thoughts raced through her mind.
Was this punishment for rebelling at the dining hall?
"Al—" she began, but he cut her off, his voice icy. "Salviana?" he needed her to reply his call not submit an objection.
"Yes?" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Here, in the middle of this bridge, I want you to make a decision." His gaze was stern, unwavering while she blinked unable to speak.
"Answer me promptly," he warned when she nervously side-eyed the surroundings, the fog curling like tendrils around her feet.
"Okay, I... I will make the decision," she stammered, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Good. What do you think about this place?" He spread his arms, inviting her to look around.
Salviana couldn't bring herself to gaze at anything but him. "It's cold and... consuming," she admitted, her voice trembling.
His expression darkened slightly, and he dropped his arms. "I happen to not feel that, but since you're human, you will." he said before adding after a deep breath, "Now here's the thing: I am letting you make the choice to leave now. You can go back, or you can follow me."
He was giving her an option.
Her pulse raced, each beat echoing in her ears. "You're giving me a choice to rebel or obey?"
"Arguably," he replied, his voice low and measured.
"I can leave or follow you?" She felt the weight of the decision bearing down on her.
"Which one is it? Do you want to go back, or will you move along with me?" His face was expressionless, yet his intensity left no room for doubt.
Salviana hesitated, the cold fog curling tighter around her ankles as if trying to hold her in place. Alaric's piercing gaze was on her, waiting. His posture remained calm, but she could feel the weight of the moment—this was no simple choice. She shivered, not only from the chill of the mist but from the gravity of what he was asking of her.
'Do I stay with him, or leave?'
She turned her head slightly, looking down the path behind them. The bridge stretched endlessly into the fog, the world they had come from now obscured and distant. The thought of returning to the cold walls of the castle, the sneering faces, the whispers of 'demon's bride' lingered in her mind. Yet beyond that, there was something more haunting—the unknown.
What awaited her if she truly left?
Would she ever find peace, or would this decision lead to an even darker fate?
Her heart ached at the thought of walking away from Alaric. He was not kind, not in the traditional sense, but he had been honest, and in his own cold way, he had tried to defend and guide her.
But how much trust could she place in a man whose very presence made her question everything?
Was this a test of loyalty or a deeper game of power? Either way, she knew the stakes were high.
Her pulse quickened, and the fog seemed to thicken as the seconds ticked by. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to shut out the fog, the bridge, the pressure. She could hear Alaric's steady breathing beside her, calm and patient, but underneath, there was something tense about his silence. He wouldn't force her, not now.
That was the point—this was her choice.
'What if leaving means I never see him again? What if staying means surrendering myself to something I can't control?'
She could feel the tension build in her chest, her thoughts racing in a chaotic swirl of fear and hope. And then, almost against her will, her body began to turn—away from him, toward the path she had once known. Her feet dragged, but each step took her farther from Alaric.
She felt his gaze burn into her back. Each step was heavier than the last, and her heart clenched in her chest. But as much as she wanted to stop, to turn back and trust him, the fear of the unknown, of losing herself, kept her moving forward.
The bridge beneath her feet creaked as if warning her of her choice. She paused halfway across, the mist growing thicker, clouding her vision. With each passing second, she felt a deeper tug in her chest—'should I really walk away?' Her mind screamed at her to go, to survive, to be free. But her heart felt torn. She glanced back over her shoulder, the fog distorting Alaric's figure in the distance.
He hadn't moved. He stood motionless as though he still believed in her but his thoughts was different from his facade: 'Of course, she'd leave the demon' he mused, 'I'm never good enough for anyone to stay and I was being delusional' he refused to blink because he wanted to watch how she left and never forget.
She choose to leave.
Meanwhile, Salviana was still conflicted and currently scared out of her mind.
The rumbling she'd felt and remembered from earlier had intensified, echoing from the depths of the water. It was as if something was moving under the bride and it was coming towards her with a speed she couldn't fathom but felt. She felt the back of her head fall despite still standing, whatever was down there was dangerous.
Panic surged through her as she sensed something lurking just below the surface, concealed by the thick fog.
She paused, adrenaline flooding her veins. She could run and perhaps make it out of the bridge, but before she could decide, she turned around, she was going back. Her feet
Not exactly trusting her husband but choosing to be with him when dangers arises, she believed being with him will cast away her demon without thinking because when she was cornered she decided to turn to him.
But it was too late. Her decision had been made, and the moment she turned, the creature beneath the water burst forth, sending her flying back with a scream.
"Alaric!" she cried out, landing on the opposite end of the bridge.
Time seemed to freeze as his name spilt from her lips.
Alaric.
'She knows my name,' Alaric thought, shock coursing through him. His name was rare, almost forbidden in this kingdom, and yet she had called him.
He leapt into action as the grotesque, skeletal figure clawed its way onto the bridge, its long, scaly limbs reaching for her with a horrifying screech. The creature was a nightmare—a black, greasy mass with sharp, elongated fingers that threatened to end her life in an instant.
As Salviana crawled backwards in terror, the realization struck her: she had chosen to rebel, and now she would pay for it with her life. Just as the creature lunged at her, its fingers poised to impale her, a rush of wind swept past, and Alaric snatched the creature, flinging it backwards with a ferocity that took her breath away.
It screeched, thrashing in panic, but Alaric was relentless. He gripped its arms, bending them back with a swift motion that resulted in a sickening crack. The creature wailed as he flung it over the bridge and into the swirling depths below.
In an instant, he was back in front of her, crouched and offering his hand. Her eyes widened, shock coursing through her as she took his hand, pulling herself up. His clothes remained immaculate, while she was a mess, hair tousled and clothes disheveled from her fall.
He pulled her into his arms, steadying her. "You see, Fiery," he said, his voice low and steady, "if you don't stick by me, there's a high chance of you getting maimed."
Did he mean the dining table?
Was this truly a punishment?
And now, standing so close, she realized he wasn't just a prince—he was a protector.
This was a lesson to show her how dangerous the castle and its royals were, that she only had him and she wondered if he wanted her still after her obvious betrayal.
"And I still want you by my side," he added, his gaze piercing through her silence.
"What… what was that?" she stuttered, her heart still racing.
"It is gone," he replied, his hands cradling her face with an unexpected gentleness. She noticed how quickly he had removed his gloves, revealing clean, warm palms that contrasted with the coldness of the mist.
"Let me escort you back to your chambers," he invited stepping away, and despite everything—the fear, the chaos—she found herself missing the heat of his gaze and the comfort of his touch. Shocked by her own thoughts, she nodded, letting him lead her away from the fog-drenched bridge.
He paused their walk, wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, tucking a strand of her orange hair behind her ear, the gesture intimate and strangely grounding amidst the chaos. The tension between them crackled with a newfound intensity, and she realized this was only the beginning of their journey together.
Perhaps Alaric wanted Salviana to prove she deserved the nickname "Fiery." And in that moment, despite the dirt and disarray she looked to be in, he saw not just a flicker of that fierceness igniting within her.
She would indeed make a great queen.