Elyistria moves closer, cupping my face, forcing my head to look up at her.
“You don’t have to live up to her. You are her, and something more,” she murmurs. “Reborn, rewritten, but still her. And you are enough as yourself, Daisy.”
Sariya’s hand softly brushes my hair from behind. “You were chosen by fate, little flower. A fate that even Elyistria couldn’t choose. That kind of power does not make mistakes.”
Ezra sniffles from across the room. “Is it weird that I’m crying? I’m literally ugly crying. You’re going to look like a goddess, Daze. You’re gonna be fucking amazing.”
“I love you all,” I say, my lower lip trembling.
They help me dress slowly.Lyvia laces the corset with steady hands, whispering words of reassurance as her fingers work. Talia fluffs the shimmering train, pride shining in her amber eyes. Sariya fastens a delicate chain across my collarbones, connecting to the points at each side of my corset, charms of sunshine and ashroses clinking along the silver metal.
When they finish, Elyistria steps back, her voice hushed. “Let them remember who and what has risen from the ash.”
I stare at myself in the mirror, the reflection stunning me. I wasn’t the broken girl in a cheer outfit anymore. I wasn’t anything like her. I was a reborn queen, coming to reclaim her throne. My eyes are lined with dark-black kohl, my lips painted dark red. Even my cheekbones have been carved out with a subtle contour. My silver-streaked golden hair flows in waves, two strands pulled back and tied at the back with two long hairpins, one with my newly created sigil sitting on top, the other with Korithax’s. I let out a steadying breath—and with one final glance at my reflection—I square my shoulders, ready to enter a brand new chapter of my life.
The halloutside the throne room hums with low voices, sconces lighting up the space with a delicate glow. Guards in ceremonial black stand rigid, their expressions unreadable. I walk between Sariya, Elyistria, Ezra, and Talia—each one a piece of my story, my strength. Lyvia clings to my hand until the very last second, our fingers trembling as they part.
The guards bow as we approach, and I spot Korithax waiting alone before the great gilded doors. Each of my friends give me a kiss on the cheek before slipping through the doors into the throne room, offering more words of reassurance.
I turn and face my future King. His armour is black and crimson, layered and sharp, like it was forged for the battlefield. His obsidian cloak hangs heavy behind him, clasped with twin silver serpent heads. But it’s his eyes that steal my breath. His jaw goes slack, his shoulders drawing back like I’d hit him straight in the chest.
“Daisy…” he breathes, voice raspy. “You look like a goddess kissed by Hell and the stars.”
My heart lurches. My throat is dry as brine, and I don’t know why the words slip out, but they do. “Are you sure you want me as your queen?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Two strides and he’s in front of me, pressing his forehead gently to mine, our noses brushing.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment you looked at me in your apartment like I wasn’t a monster,” he says, voice barely audible. “You saw the worst in me. I tried to break you. I called you weak, fragile, gods I was awful… and yet, you stayed.”
His words are deep, peeling back the final layers of doubt curled around my heart.
“I love you,” He says softly. “I’ve loved you longer than I knew. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took so long to say it. I’m sorry I tried to protect you from myself, from this world, instead of just choosing you.”
I lift a hand to his cheek, my thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “I think I’ve loved you since the day you killed Ethan,” I whisper. “I didn’t know it then, but… my soul did.”
His eyes flicker, obsidian shining faintly as he lowers his mouth to my forehead, pressing a tender kiss. For a moment, time stills. We just breathe. One last quiet moment before the world changes.
He pulls back, straightens, and extends his hand to me. “Let’s go claim what’s ours.”
I slip my hand into his, and we turn together as one. As the guards open the doors to the throne room, I know everything ahead will test us. But I also know one thing for certain—he’s mine, and I’m his. No gods, no fate, will ever take that from us.
The throne roomstretches wide and endless, lined with hundreds of beings. Fae, demon, fallen angels, creatures I don’t even have names for. A thousand eyes turn as Korithax and I walk down the aisle, hand in hand. My steps are slow but steady, my grip tight around his large hand. Whispers swirl around us, soft gasps echoing through the hall.
The thrones rise before us—his is jagged and regal, forged from the deepest obsidian and dark power. It pulses with magic, deep and endless. But mine… mine is something else entirely. Pale onyx streaked with silver, carved with ash roses and suns, white flame flickering gently along the edges. It’s rage and beauty and legacy, all wrapped into one breathtaking seat of power.
Elyistria steps forward as we ascend the dais, radiant in a gown of pale gossamer. Her voice cuts through the murmurs with weight, silencing the room in an instant.
“To rule is to be bound. Blood to blood, magic to magic. This union is not just of flesh and crown, but of soul and flame.”
Korithax holds out his left hand, and I follow. Elyistria slices our palms with a curved blade etched in ancient runes. I don’t flinch as the blood blooms across my hand, waiting for the moment everything changes.
Korithax places his hand atop mine, our hands clasping and our blood mingling together. Magic erupts between our palms—black fire crashes into me as white flame lances into him. We both gasp as the power tears through our bodies. His flame doesn’t burn; it hums, filling me with heat, making my skin feelalive. It makes my soul sing, and my breath come in soft, short pants.
I stare into Korithax’s eyes, and in them I see everything: the power, the pull, the bond. Power pulses outward like a shockwave, causing flames to flicker, rippling across the room. Gasps echo around us as our joined magic floods the space.
We release our hands, and Elyistria turns to me. A crown of flame sits in her palms; white fire flickering across the golden spires. She lowers it to my head with a soft bow, the flame not burning at all. It feels right, like it has always belonged there.
Korithax drops to one knee, and the room collectively stills.
