Willow POV
As the sun broke through the crystal glass, the room looked almost enchanted, golden dust dancing in the morning air. Willow stood wrapped in Everest's arms, the food on the table cold and untouched. Her tears had dried, but her heart was still heavy. She needed his presence more than anything now.
This new power inside her—it frightened her. It made her feel different, like the darkness wanted to pull her into something evil. But she clung to her love for Everest, holding tightly to that warmth. She wouldn't let the darkness control her. She would control it.
"Maybe we should eat," Willow whispered after a while.
Everest gently pulled away from their embrace and looked down. "I totally forgot about our food," he said with a soft chuckle. He walked to the table and pulled out a chair for her.
Her heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. She followed and sat, her body still buzzing with strange energy. Everest lifted the silver lids off their plates, revealing baked eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, and crispy hash cakes.
"It looks delicious," Willow said as her stomach gave a soft rumble. She picked up her fork and knife, cutting into the toast and eggs. The food was cold, but the flavor—salty, savory—brought her comfort.
They ate quietly for a moment, the only sounds in the room the clinking of cutlery. Then, Willow glanced up, deciding to break the silence.
"I was wondering," she began, cutting into her meat. Everest's eyes lifted, curious.
"Why don't we get married today? At sunset. At the place we originally wanted to hold the ceremony."
A slow smile spread across Everest's face. "Are you sure you're up for it?"
Willow nodded. "Why not? We both love that place. And maybe it could just be us, my mother, your father, and the High Priest of Eleven."
Excitement fluttered in her chest at the thought. She wasn't going to let Lord Lorcand or any darkness steal her happiness. She was going to marry her best friend.
"Then it's settled," Everest said, setting down his fork and knife. "We're getting married this afternoon."
Her heart leapt. For the first time in a long time, she felt hope.
But as she laid her hand on the table, magic surged through her like a lightning strike. In a split second, the entire table exploded. Plates flew into the air, shattered, and then disintegrated into dust. Willow turned away, shielding herself. When she looked again, there was nothing left—just drifting wood dust and scraps of food.
She dropped her utensils, her hands trembling.
Everest rushed to her side, his voice tight with concern. "Willow, are you okay?"
She met his eyes. "I felt it," was all she could say. The power had overwhelmed her, bursting out like a storm.
"What was that?" he asked, kneeling beside her and taking her hand.
"I think... it was my magic. I got happy, and it just… came out."
Her fingertips were still dark with shadow, but oddly, she felt more like herself—more in control.
"Next time, try not to explode a whole table," Everest teased gently.
His words made her giggle—whether from shock or humor, she wasn't sure. Their laughter was short-lived as guards burst into the room, swords drawn.
"Your Highness, are you all right?" one guard called, eyes sweeping the space for any threat.
Everest rose. "No need for alarm. It was just an accident," he assured them.
Willow stood as well. "I had… an accident. With the table."
The guards looked around at the mess—no table, just broken plates and scattered food. Still wary, they nodded.
"Please call the servants to clean up this mess," Everest ordered.
"As you wish, Your Highness," they said and departed. Willow turned to Everest, her eyes still wide. He reached for her hand again.
"My love," he said with a grin, "I believe I owe you a proper warm breakfast."
Willow laughed, glancing at the mess she'd made. "I think I'll take you up on that offer."
Still laughing, she followed Everest out of the room and toward the kitchens—hand in hand, walking into whatever came next together.
Mathew POV
He never went home that night.
Instead, King Mathew told the driver to head back to the castle and sent a quick message to his mother, explaining he would return in the morning—something important had come up.
It was important.
It was terrifying, too—giving this mysterious new woman a chance. Especially knowing she was a witch. Worse still, she was working with the great Lord of Death. Every instinct told him to walk away.
But Mathew wasn't ready to let her go.
Mathew knew he was taking a risk—one that could cost him everything. Yet the more time he spent with Gabrielle, the more he realized she wasn't some heartless sorceress or shadowy threat. She was a woman shaped by pain, marked by mistakes, and haunted by choices no one should ever have to make.
That night, they sat together in front of the fire, wrapped in a single blanket, the world outside forgotten. They talked about everything—their pasts, their fears, their dreams. The contrast between their worlds was striking. Mathew, born into privilege and royal duty. Gabrielle, born into darkness, shaped by the arcane and the unforgiving.
He watched her demonstrate small spells, fascinated by how her magic moved—wild and beautiful, like firelight dancing on stone. She was powerful. But more than that, she was human. Vulnerable. Honest.
And that scared him more than her magic ever could.
He didn't tell anyone about her. He couldn't. If his people discovered the truth—that he had spent the night with a dark witch—they'd hunt her down and hang her in the town square. So he kept the night, and Gabrielle, a secret. For now.
When morning came, saying goodbye was harder than he expected. They made a quiet promise—to meet again in secret, at the park near the enchanted pit, where the town met the edge of the old magic forest.
He had to go. His parents would worry. His duties as king awaited.
But his heart was no longer with the crown.
It was with Gabrielle.
She was unlike anyone he had ever met—wild, wounded, and wonderful. And as he rode back to the castle, the only thing he could think about was seeing her again.
Who knew? Maybe this dangerous, impossible love… could become something beautiful.
Willow POV
They shared a warm, comforting breakfast at the table, and for the first time in a long while, Willow felt as though this—this—was what her life was meant to be. The gentle light spilling through the windows, the scent of baked bread and honeyed tea, and the soft laughter she shared with Everest—it all felt like a dream she hadn't realized she was allowed to have.
Despite the chaos still lingering in her soul, despite the shadows that clung to her past, she smiled. She laughed. And she felt peace.
This was what she wanted. A quiet, beautiful life. And she was meant to live it beside Everest—her best friend, her constant, her love.
After breakfast, Everest kissed her forehead and left to speak with his father about the final wedding arrangements. But he wouldn't leave her alone. Not today. Two handmaids accompanied Willow back to her room, a quiet show of care and caution.
She didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed the company. The idea of being alone frightened her more than she cared to admit. There were still too many ghosts inside her.
The servants drew her a warm bath, the scent of lavender and rose petals filling the room. As the steam rose, curling like magic into the air, Willow hesitated, then turned to one of the handmaids and said softly, "Would you mind sitting with me?"
The girl blinked, then smiled kindly. "Of course, Your Highness."
Willow stepped into the bath, letting the warmth wash over her. She breathed deeply, closed her eyes, and slowly began to relax. She washed her hair and her body, letting the fear and grief washed off with the warm water.
When she finally stepped out, wrapped in thick, soft towels, she felt almost like herself again—clean, renewed, and steady.
But what awaited her in the bedroom stole the breath right from her lungs.
One of the servants stood by the bed, eyes glowing with warmth. And there, carefully laid across the blankets, was a familiar gown—white lace, delicate embroidery, a shimmer of old magic still clinging to its threads.
"Is that... my mother's dress?" Willow asked, barely above a whisper as she stepped closer.
The servant smiled and gave a gentle nod. "Indeed it is, Your Highness. Your mother asked me to bring it to you. She's kept it safe for this day."
Tears sprang to Willow's eyes. She had thought the dress lost—destroyed when the castle fell, when so much of her life crumbled with it. Yet here it was. Untouched. Untorn. As beautiful as she remembered.
Carefully, with trembling hands, she lifted the gown. The lace was as soft and fine as snow, the fabric shimmering faintly in the morning light.
"This is... incredible," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
To have something from the past survive—something so precious—it felt like a gift from the stars themselves.
Turning to the servant, Willow smiled through her tears. "Help me put it on."
The girl's eyes lit up. "Of course, Your Highness. I'd be honored."
With quiet excitement, they began. The towels were set aside, and Willow was gently helped into the wedding dress.
Only, there was no mirror in Willow's bedroom anymore—she had destroyed it. So, she decided to use the one in the bathroom instead. With the wedding dress flowing behind her, she stepped through the doorway… but as she passed through the frame, the world around her shifted violently.
The bathroom vanished.
She wasn't in her chambers anymore.
Willow froze, her lips parting in shock.
She had entered a different world. Familiar. Terrifying. A nightmare.
She was back—in the castle of the underworld.
But it wasn't the throne room this time. It was a lavish dining hall, long and opulent, filled with the scent of roasted meats and rich spices. A long, polished wooden table stretched before her, heavily adorned with a grand feast. And at the far end of it, seated like a king in a twisted fairytale, was the one man she despised more than any other:
Lord Lorcand.
Anger flared through her veins like wildfire. She was not the same girl he once toyed with. She had power now. She could feel it humming beneath her skin like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
"I'm so glad you could join me," Lorcand said smoothly, lifting his wine glass. "You look absolutely extraordinary in you wedding dress, my Queen."
Her fists clenched as she took in the room—walls draped in red wallpaper etched with patern of golden roses, heavy maroon curtains framing tall crystal windows, and a grand chandelier casting glittering light. But the warmth of the room was false. Cold and evil.
And then, she saw them.
The Wicked.
Standing silently behind Lorcand.
Rage, with his black crow perched on his shoulder, smiled cruelly. Vox, the predatory woman, stared at Willow like a starving wolf sizing up its next meal. And Brielle… half-smiling, but distant.
Willow's eyes fixed on Lorcand.
"Why did you summon me?" she demanded, striding forward, her anger mounting.
Lorcand rose from his red-leather chair, unbothered. "Because," he said slowly, "I believe your power has awakened. And that, my dear, changes everything."
She stood her ground, fire in her voice. "Even if it has… I am not your pawn. I'm not something you get to use or control. I don't belong to you."
Lorcand chuckled and stepped closer. "You should be thanking me," he said, voice low and dark. "You're alive because of me."
Willow's skin crawled at his nearness. Her voice shook with fury. "Then end this. If all you want is credit for saving me, take it and be gone. I don't owe you. I will never bow to you."
Her defiance stunned him for a heartbeat—but then he grabbed her wrist, hard.
"You will watch how you speak to me," he growled. "My power runs through you. It is thank to my blood what run through your veins that you are alive and breathing..... If the underworld hadn't chosen you, I would've destroyed you myself."
A surge of power exploded within her.
Her eyes turned pitch black. Shadows bloomed from her skin. Her wrist, start to warm up like hot plate in his hand, turned a deep obsidian—and the air around her trembled.
Then she heard it.
Thousands of voices. Souls. With her. When she spoke, it was not her voice—it was theirs.
"How dare you."
The walls cracked. Power stormed around her, and darkness spread like wildfire through the room. Her hair turned white as ash. Her dress blackened into lace like living shadows.
She yanked her arm from his grip, and where he had held her, burn marks seared into his skin. He crawl of the pain , his hand was burn with thick layers.
"I am your Queen….. I am Queen of this world," she said coldly. "And you—" she flicked her fingers "I should talked to you as I like….be careful I could end all of you just in the flick of my fingertips."
Lorcand's face shifted from arrogance to fear. He stumbled back.
Then Vox charged.
Willow didn't hesitate.
With a flick of her wrist, dark magic shot from her hand—and Vox exploded into a thousand pieces. Blood splattered across the table, the walls, and even Lorcand's stunned face. It was in blink of eyes she was gone and only parts of her body was splatter all over the room.
Silence full the room.
Rage's eyes widened. Brielle backed away. Lorcand… bowed his head slight as he distance himself from her. He was quiet and without words.
"I will not be threatened," Willow declared, her voice ringing through the crumbling hall. Behind her, shadows swirled into the shape of an army—an army of souls, and they stood with her.
"If any of you try to harm me again… or threatened me " she paused, raising her hand, "I will erase you in a blink."
She smiled coldly, for the first time she felted power full and confident as the whole death was in her side and even the wicked was scared of her and fear her —then just like that she summoned her magic.
In a flash, she vanished from the underworld and reappeared in her bathroom.
Gasping, she looked down at her hands—normal. Her hair was back to its soft brown, and her wedding dress was white again.
It had only been moments.
But she had killed someone. It was crazy what she have just done and as she stood before the mirror. She stared at her reflection, terrified. Willow did not realize that she had that much of power in her hand that it was almost scary to her of what she was capable off.
Then a knock at the door. A servant stepped in, face etched with worry.
"Your Highness… are you all right?"
Willow's voice trembled as she forced a smile.
"…I'm okay."
But she wasn't. She had tasted her power—and it scared her more than anything Lorcand ever could.
She was the Queen now of the darkness and the Queen of the light to the Vila . What have her world began . She looked back at her reflection in the mirror , tears of fear was staring back at her. It may terrified but she need to get herself together , she has promise an wedding to Everest and that is what she is going to do .