The music swelled, and the heavy oak doors creaked open. A collective sigh rippled through the crowd as Elena appeared. She looked ethereal in her ivory gown, the lace clinging to her shoulders like delicate spiderwebs. Her dark hair was pinned up, revealing her slender neck, adorned only with a pendant—a strange, intricate piece that Daniel had never seen her without. Her eyes met his, and she smiled, but there was something behind it. Something fleeting, like the shadow of a cloud over a meadow.

The chapel was bathed in a golden afternoon glow, sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows. Hushed whispers and soft rustling filled the air as guests shifted in their seats, eagerly awaiting the moment. Daniel stood at the altar, his fingers twitching slightly with nervous energy, but his heart was steady. He had never been so sure of anything as he was today. Elena was his anchor, his beginning, and his future.

The ceremony began, the priest's voice booming through the chapel. Vows were exchanged, promises spoken. The words felt heavier than Daniel expected, each syllable weighing on his chest. He glanced at Elena as she recited her vows, her voice low and melodic. There was no tremor, no hesitation—just calm, deliberate sincerity.

Daniel's breath caught, but he dismissed the thought. It was their wedding day. His doubts, if they even were doubts, could wait.

But then it was her turn to say, "I do."

Elena leaned in slightly, her lips curling into a faint smile. She held his gaze, her voice barely a whisper as she said, "Till the end of us all."

Daniel blinked, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he thought he had misheard her. The priest didn't seem to notice, continuing as if everything was normal. The guests clapped, oblivious to the unease knotting in Daniel's stomach.

"What did you say?" he whispered as they turned to face the audience, his lips barely moving.

She squeezed his hand, her smile unwavering. "I said, 'I do.' What else?"

The reception was a blur of congratulations, laughter, and clinking glasses. The unease from earlier lingered at the edge of Daniel's mind, but Elena's warmth and charm helped push it aside. She moved effortlessly through the crowd, her laughter soft yet infectious. Daniel watched her from across the room, his chest tightening with a mix of pride and adoration. She was captivating, magnetic, and undeniably his.

Still, the words from the altar echoed faintly in his ears: Till the end of us all.

"Hey, man, you good?" His best friend, Mark, clapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel said, forcing a smile. "Just... you know, overwhelmed."

Mark chuckled. "You're allowed to be. You just married the woman of your dreams. So stop looking like you've seen a ghost."

Daniel nodded, raising his glass in agreement, but his eyes drifted back to Elena. She was talking to an older woman, her hand resting lightly on the woman's arm. The woman's face was pale, her expression strained, as though Elena had told her something unsettling.

Later that evening, as the crowd thinned and the music softened, Daniel and Elena shared their first quiet moment together. They stood on the balcony of the reception hall, the cool night air wrapping around them. The city lights twinkled below, a sharp contrast to the stillness of the moment.

"You've been quiet," Elena said, leaning against the railing. Her eyes searched his face, her expression unreadable.

"Just taking it all in," Daniel replied, though his tone betrayed him.

"Hmm." She turned away, looking out at the skyline. The pendant around her neck glinted in the moonlight. "It's a big day. I don't blame you."

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against hers. "Elena... what did you mean at the altar?"

She stilled, her shoulders tensing ever so slightly. "What do you mean?"

"When you said, 'Till the end of us all.' That's not—" He hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without sounding paranoid. "It's not the usual vow."

She tilted her head, her lips curving into that enigmatic smile again. "You must have misheard me. I said, 'I do.'"

Daniel frowned. "No. I heard you clearly."

For a moment, her gaze flickered—something dark and guarded. Then she sighed, turning to face him fully. "Daniel, it's nothing. A slip of the tongue. Today's been... overwhelming for me too."

Her hand reached for his, her touch gentle but firm. "What matters is that we're married now. You and me. Nothing else."

Her words were comforting, but her tone wasn't. It was too precise, too rehearsed. Daniel nodded slowly, but the unease in his chest only grew.

That night, after the guests had gone and the world seemed quiet again, Daniel lay beside Elena in their hotel suite. She was already asleep, her breathing steady and even. The pendant around her neck caught the faint light of the bedside lamp, casting a strange shadow on the wall.

Daniel stared at it for a long time, his mind replaying the day's events. The cryptic vow. The pale, uneasy woman. Elena's perfect, unshakable composure. He wanted to believe her explanation, to let himself fall into the bliss of their new life together. But something gnawed at him, a whisper in the back of his mind he couldn't ignore.

And then, just as he was drifting off to sleep, Elena murmured in her slumber. Her voice was soft, almost childlike, but the words chilled him to his core:

"They're watching."

Daniel woke abruptly, his heart pounding. For a moment, the room was pitch black, save for the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Elena's soft breathing filled the silence, but the words he thought he'd heard—"They're watching"—echoed in his mind like a distant scream.

He turned to her, studying her face. She looked peaceful, serene even, her dark lashes resting against her pale cheeks. He told himself it must have been a dream, a figment of his overactive imagination brought on by the stress of the day.

But his gaze drifted to the pendant resting just above her collarbone. In the dim light, the strange patterns on the silver surface seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly. Daniel blinked, leaning closer, but the lines stilled, appearing as innocent as any old trinket.

"Stop it," he muttered to himself, lying back down. He closed his eyes and willed his racing thoughts to quiet.