I woke up on a bed made of shadows.
The sheets were silk, the color of midnight soaked in moonlight. A chandelier floated above me, made of living stardust. Walls pulsed like breathing marble, whispering secrets in languages I couldn't understand — but almost did.
I sat up slowly. My body felt different. Not painful — just... tuned. Like I'd been cracked open and put back together with wires of something ancient.
Then I remembered his voice.
"You begged for this, Lena."
Lucien.
The name alone sent a strange thrum down my spine. A god. A husband. My captor. My savior?
I didn't know.
But I knew I needed answers.
I slid out of the bed. The moment my bare feet touched the floor, glowing symbols rippled across the obsidian stone beneath me — reacting to me, recognizing me.
"Welcome, Bride of the Underworld," a voice echoed around the chamber.
I froze. The voice was not Lucien's. It was layered, mechanical, echoing with a hundred tones.
A light hovered near the corner of the room. A small orb, pulsing softly with runes.
"You have awakened. Protocol 313 initiated: Spousal orientation commencing."
"Wait—spousal what?"
The orb floated closer. "You are now a citizen of the Lower Divine Realms, Tier 1, consort to Lucien, Sovereign of Twilight and Keeper of Forsaken Vows. As his mate, your soul is tethered to—"
"I didn't choose this!" I snapped. "I don't remember anything. I didn't consent—"
The orb paused, flickered, then replied:
"Memory corruption detected. Recalibrating timeline recognition..."
A burst of static hit me behind the eyes. Images. Screams. Blood in a temple. A kiss that tasted like iron. My voice, desperate, promising something I couldn't take back.
I dropped to my knees.
"Stop it," I whispered. "Please."
The orb dimmed.
I stayed on the floor, breath shaking.
"Lena."
His voice.
Lucien stood at the threshold, cloaked in that same unreadable shadow — his form human, but more than. His presence pulled the air out of the room.
I hated that part of me ached just from looking at him.
"You're disoriented," he said, stepping closer. "That's normal."
"Normal?" I snapped. "You kidnapped me!"
"You made a vow," he said, calm but cold. "And I am merely honoring it."
"I don't remember making any vow!"
Lucien stopped inches away. He studied me — not with cruelty, but with something worse: pity.
"You will," he said quietly.
I shoved past him.
The hallway outside the room stretched impossibly — walls lined with moving frescoes that told stories I couldn't yet understand. Flames danced in sconces, shifting shape when I passed.
Lucien followed silently.
"You said I did this for justice," I muttered. "What happened to me? What was so bad that I sold my soul to a god?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he led me to a balcony.
The sight stole my breath.
Below us, the Underworld shimmered — not a pit of fire, but a kingdom of twilight. Rivers of glass flowed through floating cities. Trees with silver leaves whispered ancient chants. Creatures of starlight flew past clouds shaped like old memories.
It was beautiful. And terrifying.
"I don't belong here," I whispered.
Lucien turned to me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of pain behind his eyes.
"You did once," he said. "And you will again."
Before I could speak, a sharp wind cut through the air.
A voice — female, furious — rang out across the sky:
"You brought her back?"
A figure materialized on a nearby spire. Clad in crimson armor, wings made of obsidian blades, eyes burning like molten stone.
She landed hard on the balcony, causing the stones beneath us to crack.
Lucien didn't flinch. "She is under my protection."
"She betrayed the Accord," the woman hissed. "She started the Collapse. You swore—"
"I remember what I swore," Lucien growled.
My blood turned cold.
"What... what is she talking about?" I asked.
The woman's gaze snapped to me. She looked me up and down with disdain.
"So that's the vessel this time," she sneered. "Pathetic. Mortal shells are always weaker."
"I'm not a shell," I said, stepping forward. "I'm—"
"Lena," Lucien said firmly. "Go back inside."
"No," I said. "Not until someone tells me what the hell is going on."
The woman smirked. "You really don't know, do you? Poor little bride. You thought this was about love?"
Lucien moved faster than thought. In a flash, he was between us, his hand raised, a barrier shimmering in the air.
"That's enough, Seraphine."
She hissed, wings flaring. "You're risking everything."
"I already lost everything," he said, his voice low. "This is all that remains."
She looked at me again — but this time, there was something almost like sorrow in her gaze.
"Then may the gods have mercy on both of you," she whispered.
And she vanished in a blink.
I stood in stunned silence.
"What did she mean?" I asked. "Who is she? What did I do?"
Lucien didn't answer. Instead, he turned to me slowly.
"I can't give you the full truth," he said. "Not yet. But I will show you. One memory at a time."
"I don't want pieces," I said. "I want the truth."
His eyes darkened.
"Then be ready," he said, "because the truth is the reason you died the first time."
The wind howled. Somewhere far below, a bell tolled — deep and mournful.
And suddenly, I knew this wasn't a marriage story.
It was a war.
And I was the reason it started.