Chapter 8: Vows in the Shadow of Gold
The cathedral bell tolled across the capital city, its echo rolling through the towers like thunder draped in silk. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, coloring the marble floors in hues of crimson and sapphire. Rows of knights, dignitaries, and commanders lined the pews in gleaming ceremonial armor. But all Elias could see was her.
Serana stood at the far end of the aisle, adorned in a sleek white battle-gown woven with enchanted thread, flames faintly dancing in her train. Her hair was braided back with silver threads, and her eyes held the same spark they did on the training field—the spark that had bested him, healed him, stayed with him. The music began. And everything else faded.
They met beneath the high arch of the cathedral's central spire, an ancient structure older than the Kingdom itself, its roots rumored to rest on ruins the royal bloodline had buried. The High Templar of Valor stood before them, a figure robed in ceremonial crimson, his voice sonorous with divine authority.
"Do you, Elias of the Third Vanguard, take Serana of the Flameborne Order as your sword-sister, your partner in fire and in frost, in glory and in ruin?"
"I do."
"And do you, Serana Flameborne, take Elias as your shield-brother, your companion in shadow and in light, in war and in waking?"
"I do."
"Then before the gods of steel and sky, I declare you bound. Let your blades strike true, and your hearts stay one."
Applause roared through the cathedral, but Elias barely noticed. Serana's smile eclipsed everything.
Later, as the celebration unfolded in the royal gardens—lavish and glowing under floating lanterns enchanted to mimic starlight—Elias stood with her beneath a silver-barked tree, far from the wine-soaked cheers of generals.
"I need to tell you something," he said, voice low.
Serana turned, her joy untouched by the noise. "Go on."
"It's about Roran. The day he died…"
Her smile faded. She listened intently.
"He said, 'Don't trust the Kingdom.' That there was rot. That it goes all the way down."
Serana frowned, arms crossing. "You think he meant corruption? In the command?"
"Maybe. But I don't think it stops there." Elias looked toward the gleaming towers of the royal palace. "He sounded afraid. Like he saw something none of us were supposed to see."
A silence stretched. Serana placed her hand on his. "Then we find out. Together."
As if on cue, a figure approached from the side—tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in royal blue trimmed with crimson. His face was sharp, angular, his eyes a pale silver like polished frost. He bowed slightly.
"Sir Elias. Lady Serana. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Elias said cautiously. "And you are?"
"Sir Caelus of the Ivory Guard," the man replied. "Newly reassigned to the capital. I'll be serving under the king directly. It's an honor to finally meet the infamous Vanguard Blade and the Fireborn Duelist."
Serana gave a polite nod. "Likewise."
"Weddings," Caelus said with a wry smile, "always seem to bring out... sentiment." He let the word hang in the air just a moment too long. "Tell me, Elias. Have you ever seen the throne room?"
"I've been summoned for commendations. Once."
"Then you know how... overwhelming it can be." Caelus's smile didn't reach his eyes. "So much gold. So many eyes watching. So many secrets stitched into the tapestry."
Something in his tone made Elias tense.
"Careful," Serana said playfully, "you'll spook the groom."
"Oh, I'm sure Elias isn't easily spooked." Caelus stepped closer. "But do watch your steps, Knight. The capital is a stage. And not every actor wears a mask."
He bowed again and walked off.
When he was out of earshot, Serana whispered, "That man reeks of something. Not just arrogance."
"I noticed." Elias watched the fading silhouette of Caelus. "He knew something. Or wanted us to think he did."
"He's too polished," Serana muttered. "Like he's playing a part."
Their conversation was cut short as a royal herald called for the couple to return to the garden's center. A performance was about to begin—traditional fire dancers and spell-singers performing in honor of the newlyweds. But Elias's mind lingered on the knight in blue.
The following day, while Serana rested, Elias wandered the halls of the old citadel library. His thoughts returned again and again to Roran's final words. To Caelus's veiled remarks. Something didn't add up.
He found himself in the restricted archives—his new rank allowing him some leeway. He pored over scrolls of prior campaigns, transcripts of battlefield orders, names of "traitors" executed over the years. Too many patterns. Too many coincidences. Heroes branded as enemies. Villages erased under the name of "containment."
And one name kept reappearing—House Caelus.
Once a rebellious noble line, now restored to glory. Their loyalty had been bought—or blackmailed—centuries ago.
A book fell from the shelf beside him. No breeze. No tremor. It simply fell.
He picked it up. No title. Just a sigil burned into the leather—an ouroboros devouring its own tail.
Inside: cryptic entries. Descriptions of forbidden rites beneath the palace. Allegations of blood magic, of life-forge experiments. The king's name appeared frequently—but always in whispers, never in direct accusation.
His blood ran cold.
He returned to Serana in their quarters, her hair down, the room lit by a single flame hovering in the air like a firefly.
"You found something," she said before he even spoke.
He handed her the book.
They sat in silence, reading.
Finally, she looked up. "Roran didn't die in war. He was silenced."
"And if we're not careful," Elias said, "we'll be next."
But Serana grinned, fire dancing in her palm.
"Let them come. They'll find two blades waiting."
As the moons rose outside their window, and the palace bells rang a distant, ceremonial tone, far beneath the Kingdom's throne, in chambers not marked on any map, cloaked figures knelt before a crimson altar.
A voice echoed through the darkness.
"The flame has married the steel. Begin the ritual. The Eye must not awaken before we are ready."
And above, in the royal wing, Sir Caelus stood watching the stars.
"They'll make fine offerings," he murmured, smiling. "Both of them."