The wedding of duty

As Ember struggled to her feet, her eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene that lay before her. And then for the first time since coming down, she noticed a message just above the fire place. It appeared to written with her own parent’s blood .

“You disappointed me, Ember”

Ember’s mind reeled as she stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. The words seemed to sear themselves into her brain.

It was Lucas. He did this 

He killed her parents and still took advantage of her

Her anguish turned to anger and very quickly back to pain again. She felt a scream building in her throat, but it was trapped, unable to escape.

Her eyes remained fixed on the gruesome message, her mind racing with questions. 

Her vision began to blur, and she felt herself swaying. She reached out, blindly searching for something to hold onto, but found nothing. The room seemed to be spinning, and she was trapped in the center of a living nightmare.

Two nights had passed since the death of Ember’s parents. Ember’s world was still reeling from the shock, her heart heavy with grief. But now, on the eve of her wedding to Thorne, Beatrice sat beside her, urging her to go through with the ceremony.

“Ember, I know it’s hard, but you have to do this,” Beatrice said, her voice soft but firm. “Thorne won’t take kindly to being jilted at the altar. You know what he’s capable of. Don’t make him angry, too.

“Ember, I know it’s hard, but you have to do this,” Beatrice said, her voice soft but firm.

Ember’s eyes flashed with anger. “Who cares about Thorne?” she spat, her voice low and venomous. “He promised to protect my family, and now my parents are dead. How can you even mention his name to me?”

Beatrice flinched at the intensity of Ember’s response, but she kept going. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but Thorne’s protection is all you have left. Your pack has abandoned you, Ember. You’re alone. And if you don’t go through with the wedding, you’ll be completely vulnerable to his wrath.”

Ember’s laughter was bitter and harsh. “Vulnerable? You think I’m not already vulnerable? My parents are dead, Beatrice. Thorne failed to protect them. Why should I trust him to protect me?”

Beatrice’s expression turned sympathetic, but her words remained firm. “I know it’s hard to trust him now, but you have no other choice. Your pack has turned their backs on you. You’re alone in this, Ember. And Thorne’s protection is the only thing standing between you and the darkness that’s waiting to consume you.”

Beatrice’s face softened, and she opened her arms, pulling Ember into a warm embrace. “Oh, Ember, I know it’s hard. I know it feels like the whole world has abandoned you. But I’m here for you, dear one. I’ll stand by you, no matter what. You’re not alone.”

As Beatrice held her, Ember’s body began to shake with sobs. She felt like she was drowning in her grief, and Beatrice’s words were a lifeline, pulling her back to the surface.

“You’re strong, Ember. You’re brave. And you will get through this. You will rise above this darkness and shine brighter than ever before. I believe in you, Ember. I believe in you.”

Ember nodded, her head buried in Beatrice’s shoulder, her tears soaking into her friend’s cloak. She couldn’t speak, she knew her life had changed. She knew from here on, things would never be the same ever, but at least she had Beatrice to be right there with her

*********

The wedding day had finally come, thanks to Beatrice, Ember did go through with the plans. No point making things worse than they already were. 

This would be the first time she would be in Silverbrook city. The wedding ceremony took place at the majestic Silverbrook Manor, a grand estate nestled among lush gardens and a tranquil lake. The manor’s elegant architecture and surroundings seemed to whisper promises of happiness and forever love, a stark contrast to the turmoil that brewed within Ember’s heart.

As she stood at the altar, Ember’s gaze swept across the gathered crowd. Thorne’s pack, a sea of unfamiliar faces, filled the pews, their eyes fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Thorne’s mother, Augusta, sat in the front row, her silver hair styled in an elegant bob, her piercing blue eyes seeming to bore into Ember’s soul. Despite her refined features, Augusta exuded an air of authority, her presence commanding respect. Ember guessed her to be in her late sixties, yet her poise and confidence belied her age.

Notably absent was Thorne’s father, the former alpha who had abandoned the pack after Thorne’s victorious challenge.

As Ember scanned the crowd, her eyes searched for a friendly face, a comforting presence. But aside from Beatrice, who stood resolute and supportive by her side, Ember was alone. Her pack, her family, were all gone, leaving her to face this new chapter in her life with only Thorne’s pack as her companions.

The weight of her isolation settled heavy on her shoulders as Thorne took his place beside her, his eyes gleaming with a possessive intensity that made her skin crawl. The ceremony was about to begin, and Ember’s heart felt like it was being pulled toward a darkness from which she might never escape.

The ceremony begins, and Thorne stands before Ember, his eyes burning with intensity. Cormac, the pack’s elder and a wise, aged werewolf, stands before them, his voice low and soothing as he recites the ancient words. As Ember reaches the part where she must vow to submit to Thorne’s leadership and protection, her voice falters. She hesitates, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

The pack murmurs, their growls and whispers like a rising storm. Thorne’s face darkens, his eyes narrowing as he takes a step closer to Ember. Cormac’s voice grows stern, urging Ember to continue.

But Ember’s gaze meets Beatrice’s, and for a moment, they lock eyes. Beatrice’s expression is a mask of calm, but her eyes flash with a warning, a reminder of the danger that lurks beneath Thorne’s charm. Ember’s heart races, her mind screaming warnings, but her body seems to move of its own accord.

With a quiet sigh, Ember yields, her voice barely above a whisper as she completes the vows. Thorne’s face relaxes, a triumphant smile spreading across his face as he claims her hand. The pack erupts in a chorus of howls and cheers, their celebration echoing through the manor as Ember’s heart sinks into darkness.

Cormac presents them with the sacred token, a small crystal pendant that glimmers in the light. Thorne fastens it around Ember’s neck, his touch sending shivers down her spine. As the pack continues their celebration.