The bell's strike rolled through the chapel like thunder.
One deep, resonant sound that seemed to rattle Aarav's bones. The stained glass quivered, dust drifting from the rafters.
The Bride did not move. She stood at the altar, veil hiding her face, her chained hand stretched forward with the black ring glimmering in her palm.
The corpse-guests stirred. Their hollow voices whispered in unison:
"One toll… one vow… one hour…"
Aarav's breath caught. His instincts screamed to run, but the aisle stretched before him like a trap. The shadows at the corners of the chapel deepened, and when he tried to look away, the ring's faint pulse dragged his eyes back.
He took a step back. The guests reacted instantly.
They shifted in their seats, heads turning, joints cracking as though they hadn't moved in decades. Veils fluttered with invisible drafts. One guest's lips peeled into a too-wide smile, teeth rotten but sharp.
Aarav remembered the innkeeper's warning: "Do not touch the ring. Do not let her bind you."
He clenched his fists. "I won't," he whispered under his breath.
The Bride tilted her head as if she'd heard him. Her voice rang out, sweet yet heavy, echoing across the chapel:
"Why resist, beloved? Do you not hear them? They welcome you."
The guests all turned their heads at once, eyeless sockets glowing faintly red. Their focus pressed against him like a weight.
The bell tolled again.
The second chime shook the pews. At once, the guests rose. Their motions were jerky, limbs bending wrong, bones cracking as they stepped into the aisle. Hands reached for him, fingers blackened and sharp like claws.
Aarav spun and ran.
Cold fingers brushed his shoulder, burning his skin with icy fire. He shoved past them, darting between pews. One guest shrieked, a sound so piercing he stumbled, clutching his ears.
Don't stop. Don't listen.
He forced himself forward, eyes on a narrow door at the far side of the chapel. It was half-open, light flickering from within.
Chains rattled behind him.
He glanced back. The Bride's arms had lifted, and the iron links wrapped around her wrists slithered to the floor like living serpents. They whipped forward, striking the ground where he had just stood. The stone tiles cracked under their weight.
Panic surged. Aarav bolted for the door. The corpses lunged, clawing at his clothes, tearing fabric. One nearly grabbed his wrist, but he twisted free and dove through the doorway.
The door slammed shut behind him.
He landed in a small, circular chamber. His heart sank.
Mirrors lined every wall.
Each reflected version of himself was slightly wrong—one grinned when he didn't, another wept blood, another mouthed silent words. Dozens of distorted Aaravs stared back, moving just out of sync.
"No…" he muttered, backing up.
The reflections' lips began moving in unison. This time, their voices echoed out of the glass:
"Not again. Not again. Not again."
Some laughed, some screamed, some begged. The chorus built into a maddening roar.
Aarav's hands flew to his ears, but the voices came from inside his skull.
Then—one reflection stepped forward.
It peeled itself off the glass like skin from bone, landing on the stone floor. Aarav staggered back as it stood tall. It was him. Same face, same blood-stained shirt. But its eyes glowed red, and its grin dripped malice.
The double tilted its head. "Why do you fight, Aarav? You know she's waiting. You know you belong with her."
"I'm not you," Aarav hissed.
The copy chuckled. "No. I'm the part you keep buried. The part that wants to surrender. You can't escape me."
It lunged.
They collided, fists and nails flying. Aarav punched, clawed, shoved, but the copy laughed through the pain. "Weak. Always weak. She'll take you anyway."
The bell tolled a third time.
Mirrors shattered. Shards rained down, cutting both Aarav and his double. The remaining reflections blurred into smoke. Only the copy remained—its grin splitting wider as it slammed him against the wall, hands closing around his throat.
"Take the ring," it whispered.
Aarav gasped for air, vision swimming. His arm rose against his will, trembling toward the black band that now floated between them.
No.
With a desperate cry, he bit down on his own lip until blood filled his mouth. The sharp pain cleared his mind. He rammed his forehead into the double's skull. Bone cracked.
The copy staggered. Aarav grabbed a mirror shard and drove it into its chest.
The double froze, eyes wide. Then it dissolved into smoke.
Aarav collapsed, coughing, clutching his bleeding arm.
The chamber darkened. All the mirrors faded until only one reflection remained—his own. Shaken. Trembling. But alive.
The bell tolled a fourth time.
And the door reappeared.
Aarav staggered through.
He was back in the chapel. The corpse-guests were kneeling now, heads bowed. The Bride still stood at the altar, veil fluttering, chains coiling around her like serpents.
Her voice rang out, cold yet yearning:
"You resist… but not for long. My groom will not escape."
The bell tolled again.
Half the hour had passed.