Chapter 1: The Abandoned Bri
The grand halls of the Evernight Manor shimmered with golden candlelight, the scent of fresh roses filling the air as nobles whispered behind their jeweled masks. It was supposed to be the happiest night of Celeste's life—her wedding. Yet, as she sat alone in the grand chamber, wrapped in the finest silks, her heart ached with a loneliness she could not describe.
She had not seen his face. The man she had been married to was a mystery, a shadow that had never graced the ceremony. Lord Azrael,—her husband—had left before she could utter a word, before she could even glimpse the color of his eyes. The war had called him, and duty had ripped him from her side before their marriage could truly begin.
Her delicate fingers traced the lace of her gown, white as the moon above. She should have been preparing for a night of warmth, of whispered vows and stolen touches. Instead, she was left abandoned in a chamber too grand for a bride who had never been wanted.
A soft knock at the door startled her. It was her stepmother, Lady Evelyne, the woman who had made her life a quiet misery.
"How pitiful you look, Celeste," Evelyne sneered, her crimson lips curling into a cruel smile. "A bride left before the night could even begin. I suppose even a warrior has his limits."
Celeste lowered her gaze, saying nothing. She had long since learned that words only invited more cruelty. Silence was her shield.
Evelyne sighed dramatically, stepping closer. "You were always such a fragile little thing. It's almost amusing how you truly believed he would stay. The lord has no need for a meek, voiceless girl like you."
A lump formed in Celeste's throat, but she swallowed it down.
"Come now, child," Evelyne continued, feigning pity as she lifted a strand of Celeste's silver-blonde hair. "There's no use in moping. Your husband is gone, and who knows if he'll ever return? Perhaps you'll be forgotten entirely, left to rot in this palace like a withering flower."
Celeste clutched the fabric of her gown, her nails pressing into the silk. She did not know why, but deep within her, she felt something stir—something old, something unspoken. A whisper in the depths of her soul.
She did not know then that this power, this hidden force within her, was the very thing that made her dangerous.
She did not know that every creature in the dark would one day crave the power she held.
And she did not know that her husband— lord Azrael—would return for her.
But when he did, it would not be with flowers or gentle words.
It would be to claim what was his.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into two years, and Celeste remained within the cold walls of Evernight Manor. She had become nothing more than a ghost drifting through the empty corridors, her once-bright eyes dulled by solitude. The nobles who had once feigned kindness toward her had long since abandoned their charade, whispering of her misfortune in hushed tones as they passed.
Her husband had not returned. Not a single letter. Not a single word. To the world, she was a bride forsaken. To her stepmother, she was an inconvenience waiting to be discarded.One evening, as the autumn wind howled through the halls, Celeste found herself standing before the grand mirror in her chamber. Her reflection stared back at her—a pale wraith clad in silken sorrow. Her fingers reached up, tracing the delicate mark on her collarbone, the only proof of her marriage. A binding sigil, glowing faintly under the moonlight. It pulsed beneath her skin, whispering secrets she did not understand.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Enter," she said softly, expecting a servant. Instead, it was the only person who had ever shown her kindness in this hollow place—Marianne, her childhood handmaiden.
"My lady, there is news…" Marianne hesitated, her hands trembling as she held out a sealed letter. The wax emblem was unmistakable—the crest of her husband.
Celeste's breath caught in her throat. With careful hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
Celeste,
Prepare yourself.
The time has come.
—Azrael.
Just three words. Yet, they sent a tremor through her very soul.
The wind howled outside Evernight Manor as Celeste sat by the window, staring at the darkening sky. She had no idea why, but something in the air felt different tonight—tense, as though the very fabric of reality was shifting. But she had little time to dwell on that feeling, for the letter in her hands weighed heavy with unanswered questions.
Prepare yourself. The time has come. —Azrael.
The words echoed in her mind, stirring feelings she couldn't explain. She had heard the name before, of course—Azrael, her husband—but it had been two long years since their wedding, and nothing of him had crossed her path in all that time. She had no answers, no explanations, only the whisper of a man who had left her on the day of their marriage, vanishing without a trace into the war that had torn their lands apart.
She rose from the window, her pale fingers still clutching the letter. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on her face as her reflection stared back at her, an image of someone trapped in time, waiting for a life that never came. Her eyes fell to the binding sigil on her collarbone, the mark of a promise she had never been allowed to fully understand. It glowed faintly, pulsing beneath her skin, but she could never truly grasp its meaning.Suddenly, the air grew thick with an unnatural chill, and the soft crackle of the fire grew erratic. The flames flickered wildly, casting strange and menacing shadows along the walls of her chamber. She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for the sigil on her neck as a sense of dread overcame her.
And then, she heard it—a voice, low and powerful, reverberating through the room as though it came from deep within the earth itself.
"Did you think I had forgotten you, little bride?"
Celeste froze. The voice sent a chill down her spine, and before she could react, the mirror across the room began to shimmer. Her reflection darkened, no longer showing her fragile form but instead a pair of glowing crimson eyes, staring back at her with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.
The eyes… They were not human. The presence behind them was far from anything she had ever known.
"Who… who are you?" Her voice trembled as she stepped back, her heart racing in her chest.
But no answer came, only a deep, knowing silence. The mirror's surface began to ripple, the air growing heavier as the temperature in the room dropped.
It was then that she felt it—a presence, a power that seemed to pulse in the very walls of her manor. And somehow, deep within her soul, Celeste knew that the man whose name she had heard so many times—the one who had bound her to him through a promise she barely understood—was now closer than ever before.
But what was he? What power did he wield? She had no answers, and for the first time in years, fear stirred within her, making her heart pound in her chest.Her life was no longer just a waiting game. The unknown had come for her, and there was no way to escape.