Chapter Eight
A few minutes earlier.
Zeva and her two maids arrived at the throne hall. The heavy doors loomed before them, guarded by two armored sentinels who immediately bowed low, their eyes briefly caught by the princess's otherworldly beauty.
The guards were about to open the doors when Zeva raised her hand, halting them.
"Wait," she whispered.
She tilted her head, listening. Voices carried faintly through the thick doors—the ministers, the counselors, her father. They were speaking of marriage, of alliances, of her kingdom's weakened state.
And then, the words that caught her breath: The Fourth Prince of Theodonria.
Her heart raced. An idea struck her, bold and terrifying: If I marry into the human kingdom… perhaps I can escape him.
The devil was bound to Avalonria. He haunted its soil, its skies, its shadows. But in Theodonria—among humans—would he have the same power? If she left before he fully appeared… maybe she could run from fate itself.
Her lips trembled with the thought, but her resolve hardened.
"Open the doors," she commanded softly, then turned to her maids. "Wait here."
The heavy iron doors creaked open, their sound echoing through the hall. All conversation ceased. Dozens of eyes turned to her as she stepped inside, silver hair gleaming under the torchlight, her gaze steady despite the storm within her.
Zeva's voice cut through the silence like a bell:
"I will accept the marriage. I will wed the Fourth Prince of Theodonria."
The hall erupted in whispers, shock rippling like fire through dry leaves.
King Gideon's eyes widened, his composure faltering for the first time in years. He stared at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time. Does she even understand what she is saying? Does she know what marriage means—what this alliance could cost her?
"No," Queen Lilith's voice broke the murmurs, sharp with fear and anger. "You are not getting married. Not now."
Zeva met her mother's gaze with quiet defiance. "Then when? I am eighteen. I have come of age. And as the ministers have said, we cannot afford to offend Theodonria. So, mother… father… I agree to this marriage."
Her words were steady, but inside she prayed—Please, let them say yes. Please, let this be my escape.
King Gideon searched his daughter's eyes. Beneath her calm mask, he saw it—the silent pleading, the desperate hope she tried so hard to hide.
His heart clenched.
After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke.
"Send word to Theodonria. In seven days, their Fourth Prince, Darien Wolmort, will wed our second princess, Zeva Avaron."
The hall stirred at once—ministers whispering in relief, counselors and clan leaders murmuring approval. For the first time in her life, Zeva allowed herself a small, radiant smile.
But Queen Lilith's face was pale with dread.
Later, when the hall was empty and only the king and queen remained, her voice broke with anguish. "You should not have agreed to this, Gideon."
He leaned back in his throne, heavy with sorrow. "I wish I hadn't. But what choice do we have? For the first time in eighteen years, Zeva asked for something. Even if it is marriage… let destiny drive her where it must. Whether toward salvation… or destruction."
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Back in Theodonria.
Darien stirred awake in the dim light of morning. He had fought against sleep all night, terrified the devil would seize control the moment his eyes closed. Yet exhaustion had won, and he had slumped into restless slumber in the study, head against the arm of the sofa.
To his surprise, there had been no whispers. No red-eyed visions. No nightmares.
Almost suspicious of the silence, he rose from the sofa and made his way back to his chambers. His bath was already prepared. He let the hot water wash over him, then dressed with care, ate his usual lonely breakfast, and left his quarters.
At the army barracks, he found his familiar ground—steel, discipline, soldiers who saw him as commander before prince. Yet even here, solitude followed him.
It was then his servant, Janus, entered with a bow. "Your Highness. His Majesty the King has sent a letter."
Darien's brow furrowed. "A letter?" he muttered. "Why not summon me himself…" But the answer was obvious, and it stung no less for being familiar.
He broke the seal. His eyes scanned the parchment.
It was not his father's hand—it was the official response from Avalonria.
The kingdom had agreed to the marriage alliance.
Darien's jaw tightened as he read on. They would give their second princess, who had just come of age the day before. Her name: Princess Zeva Avaron.
No portrait accompanied the letter, no likeness sent. He would see his bride for the first time on their wedding day.
He folded the parchment carefully, though his mind churned.
"The wedding is in seven days," he said at last. "Which means we leave for Avalonria in six. Evan—get everything ready."
Evan, who stood nearby, exchanged a quick glance with Janus, then nodded. "As you command." The two left swiftly, leaving the prince alone once more.
Darien sank into his chair, the letter still in his hands. He read her name again, his thoughts unsteady.
What should he expect from this marriage?
A wife who would accept him, despite what he was? A companion who might ease the loneliness that had been his only inheritance? Or a frightened girl who would shrink from him the moment she saw the truth in his eyes?
He exhaled, the corners of his lips tightening in something between hope and despair.
"I only wish," he murmured to the empty chamber, "to find someone I can call family."
But even as he said it, a darker thought coiled in his mind. Was that what he would truly find? A family… or another soul to fear the Devil's vessel?
At the same time in Avalonria, Princess Zeva sat in her chamber with a quiet smile on her lips. Her maids noticed the unusual lightness in her expression as she gazed out the window. It was yet to happen, but the mere thought of her marriage to the prince she had never met filled her with a strange happiness.
She could not tell if the joy came from the hope of escaping the devil's shadow… or from the marriage itself.
The castle was soon alive with preparations. Seamstresses whispered about fabrics fit for a bride, cooks planned feasts worthy of royalty, and couriers carried the announcement of the royal wedding to every corner of Avalonria. Bells were rung in celebration, and the people rejoiced that their long-hidden princess was not only alive but about to be wed.
But none of them knew.
Not the ministers, not the joyful citizens, not even the royal family.
No one knew the fate that was now binding two souls—one who sought freedom from the devil, and another who carried the devil within.
Their paths had been tied. Their destinies sealed.
And the wheel of doom had begun to turn.