the timid bride

Chapter 29: The Fall of the Veil

The sky cracked open.

At first, it was a thin red line — a tear just above the horizon. Then it widened, a wound bleeding starlight and shadow across the heavens.

The veil was falling.

Arin stood at the edge of the ritual circle, her blade drawn, her breath ragged. Around her, flames licked the stones. Kael's warriors held the line behind her, wounded but standing.

And in the center of it all, floating just above the burning sigil…

**Lira.**

Her feet no longer touched the ground. Her hair burned like silver thread, her skin glowing with unnatural light. Her voice echoed like ten thousand whispers.

"It's done," she said.

The blood moon pulsed above, black and red and rotting.

Arin took a step forward, Vaelir humming in her hand.

"You've killed your own people. Betrayed your home. Opened a door we can't close."

Lira smiled. "I didn't open it. I **am** the door."

The wind howled.

And from the sky, something descended.

A shadow.

A shape.

A god.

**The Serpent King.**

He didn't walk.

He fell — slow, graceful, like drowning silk. Cloaked in smoke and crowned in bone. His eyes were endless. His mouth stretched too wide. When he stepped onto the ritual stone, the flames bowed to him.

Every fighter fell to their knees.

Except Arin.

She stood, sword drawn, body shaking.

He looked at her — and smiled.

> "So this is the mirror-breaker."

His voice echoed through bone and soul. It wasn't sound. It was *truth.*

Arin lifted Vaelir. "You've come to die."

He laughed — a low, ancient thing. "I've come to rule. You broke the curse. You gave me the gate."

"I gave you nothing."

"You gave me *everything,*" he whispered. "The Queen tried to bind me. Rael tried to resist me. But you… you set me free."

Arin didn't reply.

She charged.

Vaelir met his hand.

Not his blade — his hand.

And to her horror… he caught it.

Stopped it.

Held it.

With two fingers.

She gasped, yanked it back — and struck again.

This time, the blade burned brighter.

The Serpent King snarled.

"You think you can kill me with a relic? With bones and glass?"

Arin's eyes flashed. "No."

She looked over her shoulder — at Kael, still kneeling.

"*Now!*"

Kael rose and hurled something toward the circle.

A flask.

Glass.

It shattered — and the sigil erupted in black fire.

The ground cracked.

The spell shattered.

Lira screamed.

The Serpent King stumbled — weakened, exposed.

Arin struck again.

This time, the blade sank in.

Half an inch.

Enough.

The Serpent King recoiled — not in pain.

In fury.

"You've wounded me," he whispered. "I will remember that."

And with one breath — one gust of dark power — he vanished into the sky.

The veil pulsed.

Then split completely.

The world shook.

And **everything changed.**

—

Silence followed.

Lira had collapsed, unconscious. The sigil had burned away.

The Serpent King was gone.

But not defeated.

Kael limped to Arin's side.

"You stabbed a god."

"Not deep enough," Arin muttered.

They carried Lira back to the castle — in chains.

The healers refused to touch her. The guards wouldn't look at her.

But Arin watched.

All night.

From outside the cell.

Rael sat in the next cell.

Still wounded.

Still silver-eyed.

"Why didn't he take you?" Arin asked him.

Rael looked up, tired. "He doesn't want me anymore."

"Why?"

Rael gave a bitter smile. "Because he has you."

Arin's blood ran cold.

"I'm not his."

"You touched the mirror. You carry the blade. You broke the seal."

She turned away.

But Rael said one more thing.

"He's not trying to conquer you."

She froze.

"He's trying to **become** you."

—

The sky never returned to normal.

Even by dawn, the stars looked strange. The sun rose sickly red, the clouds low and trembling.

Kael approached as Arin stood in the garden.

"You're not eating."

"Not hungry."

Kael crossed her arms. "You should rest."

"I can't."

Kael didn't push.

Instead, she handed Arin a folded paper.

"What's this?"

"A letter. From the outer clans. They saw the veil fall. They want to meet."

Arin opened it.

It wasn't just a meeting.

It was an **invitation.**

A council.

A crown.

"Queen of the Broken Moon," the letter called her.

Kael grinned. "Has a nice ring to it."

Arin looked down at her hands.

Blood-stained. Burned. Tired.

"I'm not ready."

Kael stepped back. "You never were. But you're still standing."

And that's when Arin made the decision.

One that would change the future.

"I'm going to the council."

Kael raised a brow. "Alone?"

"No," Arin said. "With you. And Rael. And Lira."

Kael blinked. "Are you insane?"

"They need to see what we faced. Who we were. What we became."

Kael sighed. "And what if he speaks through one of them again?"

Arin looked at the blood moon in the sky — still there. Still watching.

"Then I'll be ready."

—

That night, she returned to the mirror chamber.

What remained of it.

Just stone. Shattered glass. Dust.

She looked into a broken shard — and saw not herself.

But the Serpent King.

Smiling.

> "You carry my mark," he whispered.

> "You carry my flame."

Arin touched her chest.

And felt it.

A burn.

A scar.

A spark.

Not his.

**Hers.**

She drew Vaelir.

And carved one final message into the stone.

**"I am not your bride. I am your end."**