I stood there for a moment. I had played my trump card, I felt. I knew I had provoked her. Maybe she found truth in my words, maybe not. But one thing I was certain of—truth always cuts the deepest.
I tried not to dwell on what had just happened. I wanted to let go of my thoughts, but they trembled in the air, lingering like whispers that refused to fade.
I opened the wardrobe door and let my gaze wander over the remnants left behind. A finely crafted, simple hairpin glimmered on the shelf. I reached for it, running my fingers over its surface before pulling out the golden strands of light woven into it. I did not wish to adorn myself excessively, did not wish to be ostentatious.
Stepping before the tall mirror in the room, I picked up one of the gilded combs. Slowly, carefully, I brushed through my hair, then secured the first strands at the back of my head with the hairpin.
I had no shoes. I found none. And somehow, I felt it was right—that it was truer this way. The cool touch of the marble beneath my bare feet was a silent vow to myself.
That was how I descended the stairs, where the kind woman awaited me. Beside her stood Dahlia, but she did not look at me. Or if she did, her gaze was empty, translucent like ice, as if our earlier conversation had never happened at all.
"You are beautiful, my dear," a voice like silk murmured, brushing against the air like velvet. "Before you ask, walking without shoes symbolizes humility and devotion. It means that, throughout your long life, you will do all that is required of you, no matter the cost. Please, follow us. The ceremony has already begun."
"The pre-oath is yours alone," she continued as we walked.
"Pre-oath?" I asked, my footsteps echoing against the marble.
"A vow to the seven archangels. A bond that cannot be broken. And one that must first be accepted by them."
Barefoot, I walked across the palace's cold stone, my gown whispering softly around me. The three of us moved down the corridor—two leading, and I following, as if marching toward my fate on a path already written.
They led me to a tower. Smaller than the grand hall, yet far more sacred. A domed chamber, one that felt like the very heart of the building.
Seven stained-glass windows encircled the space. Each bore the image of an angel. As we stepped inside, the hush of the chamber swallowed the noise of the world. The kind woman guided me to the center, then lifted her voice, letting it rise like a prayer toward the heavens:
"I call upon you, angels! Guardians who weave the threads of souls! Pillars that uphold the heavens! The radiant firmament of our dwelling! I call upon Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Sariel, Raguel, and Remiel! Hear this voice, receive the oath!"
I stood still, my gaze tracing the fractured glass. Light streamed through the colored windows, casting shifting reflections that illuminated the faces of the angels. They were beautiful, yet distant. Known, yet unknowable.
Some of them—I had seen before. In their full, radiant presence.
But the fourth…
The fourth did not glow in gold or blue. Flames licked around him, red and untamed. His emerald-green eyes burned into mine as if searing their presence into my soul.
I did not move. I did not speak.
His presence alone was enough to ensnare me.
I no longer heard the woman's voice. The ceremony blurred at the edges of my mind. There was only fire—the whisper of flames, distant cries, and an unfamiliar relief.
I did not understand why I was drawn to him when I should have recoiled.
And yet, he did not seem unclean.
A flicker of light passed through the mosaic, and his green gaze struck the pendant resting against my skin—the one bearing Samuel's mark.
For a moment, I swore I could feel it burn.
But it did not hurt.
It only ignited something deep within me.
And still… still, I felt as though, in that moment, I already belonged to him.
A soft voice pulled me back.
"Look at Gabriel, child," the other woman commanded, her tone edged with something sharp. "Your part is next."
I blinked. As if waking from a dream.
Slowly, I turned to the next mosaic.
Gabriel's figure gazed back at me, his ocean-blue eyes aglow with golden light. He was like the dawn—a dawn that never ended.
The kind woman spoke again:
"There is no sight more radiant than when two flames intertwine as one. Listen now to the longing of fire for fire."
My heart pounded against my ribs.
"It is not the voice of your lips that matters, but the voice of your soul."
Slowly, I placed a hand over my heart, as she had shown me.
A profound silence settled over the chamber.
And then, I spoke.
Not aloud.
But within me—deeply, instinctively—my gaze locked onto Gabriel's blue eyes as I whispered the words of the vow:
"I swear that I am yours, and you, swear that you are mine."
I had thought I would have to say it more than once.
Thought it would be longer, harder. Thought it would ache, or perhaps feel like revelation.
But it did not.
Sometimes, the seal of fate falls swiftly. And once it does, it cannot be undone.
And then—I heard it.
"I swear that I am yours, and you, swear that you are mine."
His voice was deep. Like the rolling thunder of the heavens.
It cut through every thought, every thread of my being.
No crowd was needed. No loud festivities.
This was a union not of the flesh, but of souls.
The kind woman lifted her hands, calling to the heavens:
"Oh, ornaments of the sky, bear witness to this vow!"
The seven windows began to glow, their light growing, intensifying.
Shimmering.
Angelic presence.
But one window hesitated.
The fire.
Its flames flickered, restless, as if they truly burned.
The two women beside me stood in silence, watching. We all did.
As if every angelic soul had drawn a single breath—and held it.
Then, the fire erupted.
Red. Orange. Unrelenting.
And at last, when the final light blazed forth, the entire dome was bathed in brilliance.
I looked down at my palm.
A symbol glowed upon my skin.
Not a tattoo. Not a scar.
Something more.
A bond.
And then—I heard the door open.
The door swung open, and angels stepped inside. At first, just a few, then more and more. Twenty, thirty… soon, the entire room was nearly filled with their presence. They did not arrive in their full form, yet I felt we were only moments away from the veil falling away.
I saw Clara, John, and Elis. They, too, wore white robes, barefoot, simple, without jewelry—free. As if, in this place, all outward appearances had lost their significance. Only I still wore a single hairpin, and only I bore the seal that now belonged to me irrevocably.
The arrogant woman's voice cut through the silence.
— What we have awaited has come to pass.
The gentle woman continued:
— The seal of fate has been placed. They are now one, and one is theirs.
As her words faded, I saw him.
Gabriel.
He stepped into the hall slowly, yet I knew he had always been here. His soul had already been present, long before his body crossed the threshold. And yet… seeing him like this was far more overwhelming. Not just as the weightless, ethereal imprint of his existence, but in the full brilliance of his being.
He took my hand with the same gentle strength with which he had shielded me at the door. His robe was pure white, unadorned, as simple as the others'. A mark of purity.
And then, he spoke:
— We are one, and one is ours. Do you accept?
The attention of those present turned toward us. And in that moment… every angel revealed their true form.
Their wings were vast, bathed in radiant light. Their halos surrounded them—pure and translucent, like the first light of dawn. There were no more garments, no more adornments—nothing that could be measured by human standards. Only their existence itself, untouchable and luminous in its essence.
Pain struck through me.
I could not.
I was unable to transform, and even if I had tried… what would I have become? A flawed shape among perfect swans. A fragile shadow in this brilliance.
But it did not matter.
Because I already belonged here.
And no one expected me to be perfect.
The wings of the man beside me stirred a soft breeze against my face. My breath caught, and then, quietly, as if whispering only into my own thoughts, I asked:
— The pre-ceremony… was that the final ceremony?
I knew the answer. I only wanted to hear it from him.
— Yes. This is called the grand ceremony because here, every soul accepts us. Those who are here… and those who are not visibly present. Those whom neither space nor walls can bar from witnessing.
A shiver ran through me.
The number of witnesses extended beyond my sight. There were those watching whom I could not perceive, whose existence was too pure for my eyes to comprehend.
But it was comforting to know they were there.
No more words were spoken. There was no dance, no celebratory feast. Yet the silence was not the silence of solitude.
This joy was different.
The angels looked at us with smiles on their faces, and their pure light wove through the space.
In Clara's eyes, I saw happiness. Relief. Change.
And I, too, knew that from this moment on, everything would be different.
It was dawn, but it had already begun to fade. The first rays of the sun brushed across the sky; we had sworn our vows in its light, and now we sat on Gabriel's bed. I couldn't tell if this place had already become my home or if we had merely drifted together for a fleeting moment.
"I can move," he spoke softly. "To another room, if you'd prefer."
"But today, we must spend it together," he continued. "Our existence and our rules dictate it. No matter how much work there is, how many burdens we bear, we must always make time for the flames of our twin soul."
I smiled, trying to bring some lightness to the moment.
"Is that how you poetically refer to being together?"
He didn't smile, but I caught a faint, barely perceptible shift in his expression—something like quiet amusement.
"Perhaps…" he replied gently.
We weren't blissfully happy, not in the way true twin flames were meant to be. But I tried to weave a small thread of joy into our reality, even though I knew the truth was different.
"Then let's sleep, and tonight, we'll go to the border, right?" I watched him carefully, sensing that wasn't his plan.
He leaned back against the headboard as I, still in my bridal gown, tried to explain why we needed to scout the area as soon as possible.
"Spirits are most active at night. Many have been wandering there for so long. We can't leave this situation unresolved any longer."
"That is a massive task," Gabriel said. "And it requires careful planning."
His voice was steady, the tone of a commander.
"We'll deal with it tomorrow. We'll gather the soldiers, the strongest of the dark-clad, and devise a strategy. We'll form units. One group will be prepared for the crossing. Another will move beyond the mist. But we need experienced defenders. The more hands working together, the sooner we will be done."
I smiled.
"I like that plan."
"But tomorrow morning," he said firmly.
Sighing, I moved to the other side of the bed like a sulking child.
"I just want everything to be settled as soon as possible."
Gabriel's voice deepened, quiet but resolute.
"I think you should rest now."
I turned to him, meeting his gaze.
"They've suffered so much…"
I thought of Madison. The little girl who had been stacking those stones for over thirty thousand years. Day after day, with that same fragile, unyielding hope.
"Don't you think she deserves more?" He already knew what I was thinking.
Gabriel's eyes hardened.
"Yes."
His voice didn't waver.
"And now, we have everything we need to change that."
For a moment, we only looked at each other.
"Now, take care of yourself, too. You need to understand the weight of this—it won't be simple. Your life…"
He hesitated for a second.
"A twin-flame union is a beautiful thing."
"You mean a real one, don't you?" I asked quietly.
"Anything can be real," Gabriel replied. "It only becomes a prison if we fight against it."
I felt that he wanted to kiss me again, but something within me had changed. I no longer sought refuge in him. I didn't need his protection.
"Let's just sleep," I whispered.
We lay side by side, untouched. I longed for closeness. For shelter.
But I no longer wanted to run.
I couldn't run.
Not into him.
Not into anything else.
When I woke, the night had long since swallowed the sky.
It's a different feeling to sleep through an entire day rather than just a night. It was as if something had disappeared, as if a piece of existence had fallen out of time.
Gabriel was still in deep sleep.
Quietly, I rose, my bare feet touching the cold floor. Soft whispers of movement accompanied me as I stepped out of the room.
I felt myself being pulled in only one direction.
Toward that particular room.
As I drifted down the corridor, the scent of narcissus reached me.
That room was calling me.
I was the palace's yearning spirit.
A long-lost shadow, wrapped in another fragrance—the scent of the space itself.
Narcissus.
Vanilla.
Peppermint.
Elderflower.