One week later, the kingdom breathed again.
The war horns were silent, the skies calm, and yet Josephine's wounds were still healing. She moved carefully, strength returning little by little—but she was never alone. Xavi never left her side, not for a heartbeat. He carried her wherever she wished to go, arms steady, presence unyielding, as if his love itself was the medicine sealing her scars.
Sienna and Xantha had grown stronger than ever, radiant with health and discipline, tending to themselves with a devotion born of survival. A family picture was taken—one for the ages—and Xeno was the happiest of all, smiling so wide it seemed his face might split.
"You can come in now, Papa!" Novara called.
Josephine held Xavi's arm as they walked forward together.
The doors opened.
There stood their daughter.
Opehlia wore the most beautiful dark red wedding dress—a ballgown of royal fire. The strapless bodice was fitted perfectly, adorned with delicate lace detailing that shimmered softly under the light. The skirt was extremely full and voluminous, flowing like liquid crimson around her. Upon her head rested her dark diamond crown, regal and unyielding.
Opehlia smiled at her parents.
Xavi broke.
Tears fell freely as his breath hitched. "Papa…" Opehlia whispered, pulling him into her arms.
A father and daughter held each other tightly. He sniffed, trying to be strong. She wiped his tears with gentle fingers.
Josephine's tears of joy followed, slipping down her cheeks as she wiped them away.
"Oh, my sweet baby girl… how time flies by so fast. From a baby, to a toddler… and now you're getting married."
"Mama…" Opehlia cried, hugging her tightly.
"It's time," Adris said softly, kissing Opehlia's forehead. "I am so happy," he repeated, holding her close.
At the altar, Azrelion waited.
His armor was dark red, polished to a solemn gleam. His silver hair framed his face, and his white beard was neatly kept. His jaw was tight as his mother stepped closer.
"I know you hate me," Lady Dravelle said, her voice trembling, "but please, my son… I beg you, forgive me."
The doors opened.
Azrelion licked his lips and took a deep breath. His heart began to race.
He saw her.
Both Adris and Xavi held Opehlia's hands as she walked forward. Through her black net veil, she looked up, eyes shining.
Orion sniffed, and Nadia wiped his tears.
"Lila looks pretty!" Dash said.
"Yeah!" Novara agreed, as Basil placed kisses on her cheeks.
They reached the altar.
The priest spoke a few sacred words, and then the vows began.
Azrelion took Opehlia's hand.
"My princess.
My love.
My heart's chosen crown.
I kneel before you not in weakness, but in devotion.
I swear my sword to your safety,
my strength to your burdens,
and my life to the love we now share.
I vow to stand when the world rises against you,
to shield you from storms seen and unseen,
to fight for your joy as fiercely as I would for your honor.
When fear whispers, I will be your courage.
When the path grows dark, I will be your light.
I promise not perfection, but loyalty.
Not endless ease, but unwavering presence.
As long as my heart beats and my armor bears my name,
you will never walk alone.
You are my oath,
my home,
my forever."
"So beautiful…" Xis whispered.
Opehlia wiped her tears and began.
"My knight.
My protector.
My beloved.
I give you my heart freely and without fear—
not as a prize to be won,
but as a soul choosing its equal.
I vow to believe in you when doubt surrounds you,
to heal your wounds with patience and love,
to be your peace after every battle.
When the world weighs heavy upon your shoulders,
I will remind you who you are.
I promise to stand beside you, not behind you,
to honor your strength and soften your scars,
to love you not only in triumph,
but in silence, struggle, and stillness.
You are my knight,
my refuge,
my truth.
With you, I choose a kingdom built on love
and a lifetime written in devotion."
Xavi smiled, holding Josephine's hand tightly.
"You may now kiss the bride," the priest declared.
Azrelion lifted Opehlia's veil, pulled her close, and kissed her.
The entire hall erupted in applause. Flowers fell like blessings from above.
Outside, Opehlia threw her bouquet.
One landed on Novara and Orion.
Others fell at the feet of Reina and Aira—and near Vexar, Kael, and Xoni.
Xoni blinked.
"Daddy… does this mean I'm gonna be next to get married?" Aira asked.
"Yes, love," Beline said.
Aira gasped, her face turning red. "Mama?"
Vexar turned to Anesthesia. "Mama?" he asked.
She giggled.
Reina took a deep breath and looked across the hall.
Dex.
An older man—half elf, half werewolf—Xoni's close friend, now chancellor of the kingdom. He was thirty-seven. She was nineteen. They had been going on dates in secret, hiding their relationship from Xoni and the family.
He had fallen in love with her.
But so had Daxen.
Reina had been broken two years ago. Daxen had been seen with other women, pressured into an arranged marriage. Distance grew between them after he called her a little girl—said he could choose any woman he desired.
The words were poison.
He hadn't meant them. He'd said them to avoid trouble. But his heart betrayed him—he had fallen deeply in love with her.
During the wedding dinner, Reina walked down the hallway, struggling with her heels.
Someone stopped her.
Removed them gently.
It was Daxen.
He placed a soft kiss on her feet, never breaking eye contact. Her face burned red as his thumb brushed her leg.
"Baby…" Daxen murmured.
She snatched her heels. "Don't touch me."
He sighed. "I really want to talk to you, Reina."
She turned to leave.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a small, tight room.
"Hey!" she protested.
"I'm so hungry," he said softly.
Then he kissed her—lovingly. She hit his arm at first, but melted into his touch. He held the back of her neck as she responded, breath hitching. When he pulled away, she was left breathless.
"Midnight. On the roof," Daxen said. "Don't make me come get you, Ria."
His voice was low, seductive.
They stared at each other.
Outside—
"BYE, PAPA! BYE, MAMA! BYE, EVERYONE!" Opehlia called, waving as she left for Xavi's castle.
She was all grown up.