The chamber didn't collapse.
It **convulsed**.
Like a beating heart missing its rhythm.
One moment, the altar blazed with ghost-fire—
the shadow bride reaching for Inara,
the Groom standing like an emperor of graves—
and the next moment,
everything cracked apart like a bone struck too hard.
Stone ruptured under Inara's palms.
Columns split.
Veils tore free and spun like dying birds in the air.
Irvine lunged for her—
And the floor snapped in half between them.
"Inara!" he shouted.
Her scream was swallowed by the explosion of dust and veils and white fire.
Something—someone—grabbed her wrist.
Cold fingers.
Thin as bone.
The shadow bride.
"No—NO—!"
Inara dug her nails into the stone floor, dragging herself away,
but the shadow bride pulled harder—
a force like gravity with intent.
From across the rift, Irvine roared:
"LET HER GO!"
He leapt forward—
—too late.
The floor gave way.
Inara fell.
The world dissolved into veils.
White silhouettes fluttered around her like broken snowflakes,
each one whispering in a voice no living person should hear:
*"Walk the aisle…"*
*"Join us…"*
*"Be remembered…"*
Something slammed against her ribs as she hit a softer surface—
not stone.
Not ground.
Fabric.
Silky.
Cold.
Smelling faintly of old perfume and dried blood.
She looked down.
She had fallen onto a pile of wedding dresses—
hundreds of them—
stitched together into a mound.
Her breath caught.
Every dress had a stain.
Every stain was shaped like hands.
---
### **IRVINE FIGHTS THROUGH THE VEILS**
Far above, Irvine grabbed the edge just as the platform under him collapsed.
Dust choked his throat.
Blood still dripped down his neck from the shadow's grip.
But none of it mattered.
"Inara!"
He pushed himself up, boots sliding on crumbling stone,
and sprinted across the unsteady floor.
Veils lashed at him—
some soft, some sharp as razors,
flickering with the faces of former brides.
He tore them aside, one by one,
fighting like a man trying to punch through memory itself.
"Inara, ANSWER ME!"
Static hissed through the chamber—
not from radios,
but from the shifting of time itself.
He heard her voice faintly:
"Irvine—I'm here—I'm—"
The rest cut off in a scream.
His heart seized painfully.
"I'm coming," he whispered.
"I don't care who's watching—I'm coming."
And for the first time,
the chamber's shadows hesitated.
Because the Groom had turned toward him.
His veil billowed,
faces of the brides in it contorting with silent warnings.
The Groom's voice hit like a slow-moving avalanche:
*"You cannot follow her."*
Irvine spat blood.
"Watch me."
He ran straight into the veil storm.
---
### **INARA AND THE DRESSES**
Inara pushed herself onto her knees, trembling.
The mound of dresses shifted beneath her—
as if something underneath them breathed.
No—
Someone.
A hand shot out of the fabric.
Inara shrieked and scrambled back as a woman's body slowly rose from the layers—
skin pale,
eyes hollow,
mouth stitched shut with black thread.
A bride.
A bride that had been left here.
Her head tilted,
recognizing movement.
Her fingers twitched once,
twice,
then pointed toward Inara's chest.
Or rather—
Inara's **veil**.
The air tightened around her.
The bride whispered through the stitched mouth—
threads pulling, tearing:
"Bride… chosen…"
Inara stumbled backward, shaking, dress ripping on the mound.
"No… I'm not— I'm not part of this—"
She turned—
And froze.
Two more brides crawled from beneath the fabric.
Then four.
Then dozens.
They moved like silent puppets,
jerky but purposeful,
crawling toward her with the determination of a ritual obeyed for centuries.
Inara backed against the cavern wall, chest rising rapidly.
Her walkie crackled weakly at her belt.
A voice—
"I—na—ra—"
"Irvine?! IRVINE!"
More static.
"—hold on— I'm—"
His voice broke.
She slammed the walkie against her palm.
"Don't stop talking to me, Irvine! I'm right here!"
A skeletal hand grabbed her ankle.
Inara screamed, kicking wildly, heel cracking bone.
Another bride crawled up the wall like a spider,
her veil trailing like a sheet of moonlight stretched too thin.
The chamber pulsed.
They were coordinating.
"Hurry," Inara gasped. "HURRY!"
---
### **IRVINE BREAKS THE VEIL WALL**
Irvine hit the veil storm like a battering ram.
It wasn't cloth.
It was pressure.
Cold hands.
Whispers.
Memories of every groom who had failed before him.
The voices clawed at him:
*"Leave her…"*
*"Let the ritual be complete…"*
*"A groom must surrender…"*
He punched through them—
literally punched through shadows.
Every blow he landed
made the chamber tremble like it was in pain.
The Groom stepped down from the altar platform,
boots not touching the floor.
He glided toward Irvine,
unimpressed,
almost pitying.
*"You walk against destiny."*
Irvine grabbed a veil and ripped it in half.
"So does every man who loves a woman."
The Groom blurred forward—
a shadow strike aimed at Irvine's heart.
Irvine blocked it with his forearm—
the impact sending him crashing into a pillar.
Blood sprayed.
His vision spun.
But as the Groom reached for his throat—
A spark pulsed under Irvine's skin.
The afterimage of the ritual's previous blast.
Its power.
The Groom's own energy.
Irvine's shadow flared behind him—
snarling, monstrous.
And for a moment,
the Groom paused.
*"You bear my echo."*
Irvine wiped blood from his mouth.
"You bet I do."
He forced himself upright.
"And I'll use every piece of it to tear you apart."
---
### **THE VEIL SHATTERS**
Inara screamed again.
Three brides grabbed her arms,
another clung to her veil,
another crawled up her back,
cold fingers gripping her spine.
Her vision blurred with terror.
"No—NO—LET ME GO—!!"
A faint light flickered above her.
Then a voice—
hoarse, furious, shaking with devotion:
"INARA! MOVE!"
She ducked instinctively.
A massive shockwave of shadow energy
exploded into the dress mound—
ripping brides aside like rag dolls,
shattering bone,
tearing veils into dust.
Irvine stood above her in the upper crevice of the chamber,
blood dripping from his face,
hands glowing with corrupted power.
His chest heaved.
"Inara… get up."
She scrambled to her feet, adrenaline surging.
The Groom materialized behind Irvine—
silent and furious.
The chamber dimmed.
Inara's eyes widened.
"IRVINE—BEHIND YOU!"
He turned just in time—
But the Groom was faster.
He struck Irvine with a wave of pure veil energy.
Irvine flew backward, skidding across stone, coughing blood.
"No!" Inara shrieked.
She sprinted toward him—
But the Groom extended his hand.
Her veil yanked backward so violently
her head snapped.
She collapsed.
The Groom approached slowly—
ceremonial and controlled.
As if each step was part of a wedding march.
Inara tore at the veil strangling her.
"I won't walk your aisle—"
The Groom tilted his head, veil drifting like smoke.
*"You already have."*
And then—
**CRACKKK**
A deafening sound tore through the chamber.
Irvine, shaking, eyes blazing with stolen power,
lifted his hand.
A swirling mass of corrupted shadow pulsed between his fingers—
unstable,
violent,
fuelled by love and fury.
He slammed the energy into the ground.
The chamber screamed.
Brides shattered.
Veils snapped.
And the Groom finally
—**FINALLY**—
stumbled backward.
Irvine pushed himself onto his knees, panting.
He held out a hand to Inara.
"Inara… come to me. NOW."
The Groom raised his veil again.
Irvine roared at him—
"I'm her groom. Not you."
The chamber trembled violently.
The Groom lunged.
Inara ran.
The veil between them—
**SHATTERED.**
White shards exploded across the cavern like glass.
And for the first time since the ritual began—
Inara reached Irvine
without being pulled away.
She collapsed into his arms, both of them shaking uncontrollably.
He held her like she was breath itself.
"Inara… I've got you."
Her forehead pressed against his chest.
"I knew you'd come."
He exhaled a broken laugh.
"I'll always come."
Around them, the chamber began to realign—
walls twisting,
veils reforming,
the Groom rising again,
more furious than ever.
The countdown to midnight had restarted.
And now the ritual was no longer patient.
The ritual was hunting.