The chamber was no longer breathing—it was **waiting**.
As if the entire village knew exactly where Irvine and Inara were going.
The air around them pulsed with a rhythm far too slow to be human,
but too deliberate to be nature.
A distant, muffled **boom… boom… boom…**
like a war drum buried under centuries of stone.
Midnight was close.
And the ritual had grown impatient.
---
### **THE ALTAR MAP REVEALS ITSELF**
Irvine leaned heavily on the cavern wall, his breath shallow and uneven.
The burst of shadow energy he used earlier was still crawling under his skin,
burning like splinters of ice lodged into every vein.
"Inara… we need to find the exit," he groaned.
She looped an arm around his waist, supporting him.
"You saved me," she whispered,
voice breaking between panic and devotion.
"So now I'm saving you. That's how this works."
He tried to smile, but it hurt too much.
They moved carefully through the cracked chamber, stepping over torn veils
and broken bones of forgotten brides.
Blood trickled from Irvine's shoulder onto the stone, leaving a dark trail.
Every drop sizzled.
The darkness inside him was reacting—
growing.
Inara noticed that too.
She squeezed him tighter.
"Just a little more. We'll make it."
But when they reached the far end of the cavern,
a wall of black stone greeted them—
smooth, polished, unbroken.
A dead end.
Irvine's knees nearly buckled.
"No—no, we didn't come this far just to—"
But then Inara gasped.
"Irvine… look."
Carvings began glowing on the wall,
one by one,
like ancient ink waking from a long dream.
Lines.
Symbols.
Paths.
An intricate map etched into the stone:
the **Altar Network** hidden beneath the WWII village.
At the center of it—
a circle filled with runes.
The Final Gate.
A small inscription flickered beneath:
**One heart must be given
for the gate to be opened.**
Inara's blood ran cold.
"Heart… as in life?"
Irvine shook his head weakly.
"No. Not life."
His voice trembled.
"Inara… I think it means memory."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"The ritual wants something precious.
Something that binds a soul."
He lifted a shaking hand, touching her cheek.
"And what's more binding than what we remember of each other?"
Her chest clenched painfully.
"No. No. Irvine, we're not giving that up. Not any of it."
But the map pulsed again, clearer this time:
**TO PASS
YOU MUST FORGET
WHAT BINDS YOU.**
A tremor rattled the floor.
They didn't have time.
---
### **IRVINE'S CONDITION WORSENS**
A violent shudder ran through Irvine's body, making him collapse to one knee.
"Inara—don't—look—"
Black veins crawled across his neck,
spreading like cracks in frozen glass.
The Groom's energy.
Possessing him piece by piece.
He tried to breathe, but the shadows coiled around his spine,
pulling him forward like puppet strings tightening.
"I—I can feel him," Irvine rasped.
"He's… inside the ritual. Following us."
Inara crouched beside him, gripping his face.
"Irvine, stay with me."
His eyes flickered—
brown, then black, then brown again.
"Inara… you need to run."
"Don't you dare say that."
Her voice broke.
"Not after everything. Not after you fought through hell to reach me."
He looked at her the way he always did—
like she was the only person he'd die for,
and the only person he'd live for.
"Inara… if I lose my memories of you…
if I forget—"
"No," she cut in. "We will find another way."
But his gaze dimmed again.
And this time,
a shadow rose behind him.
Tall.
Silent.
Watching.
---
### **THE GROOM REVEALS HIS FACE**
Inara sensed him before she turned.
The hair on the back of her neck lifted.
Her heartbeat stuttered once—hard enough to hurt.
When she finally looked over her shoulder—
she froze.
The Groom
stood
barefaced.
His veil had lifted,
revealing a face carved from tragedy itself.
Eyes black as embalmed resin.
Cheekbones sharp as broken vows.
Skin stretched too perfectly,
as if death had preserved him with care.
Yet there was beauty to him—
a haunting, impossible beauty
that made her stomach twist in revulsion and pity.
He tilted his head slowly,
and the remnants of a groom's crown slid down his matted hair.
His voice was soft—
not monstrous at all,
but heartbreakingly human:
*"You have walked too far, bride."*
Irvine forced himself to stand, staggering.
"Stay away from her."
The Groom ignored him,
eyes locked on Inara.
*"You tear yourself carrying him."*
Inara flinched.
*"You bleed for him."*
Her hands curled into fists.
"I'm not yours."
The Groom stepped forward,
each movement elegant and controlled.
*"You could save him."*
Irvine's breath hitched.
"Inara… don't listen."
But she couldn't look away.
The Groom's voice was a whisper woven with longing:
*"If you walk with me—
just for one vow—
I will spare his life."*
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"No—Inara—NO—" Irvine choked.
But the Groom lifted a finger.
Irvine collapsed to both knees with a guttural sound,
clutching his chest as darkness rippled across his skin.
Inara screamed.
"STOP!"
The Groom lowered his hand.
Irvine gasped for air.
Tears streamed down Inara's face.
"What… what do you want from me?"
At that,
the Groom stepped closer—
close enough for her to see the faint shimmer of a wedding band
still hanging from his skeletal finger.
His voice cracked,
as if remembering how to sound alive:
*"One vow."*
Her breath stopped.
*"A vow to walk beside me—
until the gate opens."*
He extended a hand.
His fingers were cold.
Beautiful.
Wrong.
Alive.
Dead.
Irvine lifted his head, eyes wet with agony.
"Inara… please. Don't."
The Groom whispered again:
*"Save him… or lose him."*
---
### **THE CHOICE**
Inara's vision blurred with tears.
She looked at Irvine—
shivering, bleeding, unable to stand.
And then she looked at the Groom—
waiting calmly,
as if he had all the time in the world,
as if he'd asked this vow a hundred times before.
Her heart hammered painfully.
"Will you keep him alive?" she whispered.
The Groom nodded once.
*"Until the gate opens."*
Irvine's voice cracked:
"Inara… I would rather die than lose you to him."
She stepped toward Irvine,
pressed her forehead to his.
"I'm not losing you," she whispered.
"Not in this lifetime. Not in any lifetime."
He grabbed her hand,
desperately.
"Inara—"
Tears fell onto his knuckles.
"I'm sorry."
She stood.
Turned toward the Groom.
And placed her trembling hand
in his.
The Groom closed his fingers around hers—
cold,
unforgiving,
binding.
Irvine let out a broken sound—
a sound of a man watching his entire world being torn from him—
as Inara whispered:
"I accept."
A veil of white fire erupted around them.
The Final Vow
had begun.