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Ryke stepped into view and squeezed Tristan’s shoulder. “Stand with me and wait,” he instructed, motioning for Tristan to join him in front of the priest.
Suddenly, the doors opened again and a bride entered the hall, her face veiled in layers of white lace. The music turned into a triumphant anthem and Tristan’s stomach did backflips as he watched the bride gliding down the aisle.
A rush of panic flooded his senses, rooting his feet to the ground, and no matter how much he wanted to move, he couldn’t. His jaw tensed and his breaths grew shallow as a rising sense of doom took hold of him. He glanced around at the guests who stood waiting in hushed excitement, some rocking back and forth on their heels, others clasping their hands together in anticipation.
Tristan watched with a heavy heart as the bride continued slowly down the aisle, her delicate figure illuminated in the flickering candlelight. His mind fogged by a sense of dread, it was like the hundreds of eyes watching him were pressing against his skin, suffocating him in silence. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.
As the bride drew closer, Ryke murmured in Tristan’s ear, “Your duty is to your kingdom, cousin.”
Finally, the bride reached him, and as though he was a puppet, he automatically reached forward and lifted the thick veil.
Tristan’s heart pounded furiously as he watched in horror as the face staring back at him revealed his darkest fear. There before him stood Neri, her cold eyes glinting maliciously as a cruel smirk spread across her face. From beneath the fabric of her dress emerged writhing tentacles that seemed to reach out for Tristan.
He had barely blinked before a thick tentacle was coiling around his neck, squeezing out his breath. He gasped for air and clawed at the rubbery limb, but the creature’s grip was relentless. Suddenly, the sound of steel slicing through the air filled his ears, and he had a rush of relief as Aurora appeared, her sword gleaming in the sunlight.
She slashed at the tentacle without hesitation, watching with silent satisfaction as it dropped to the ground.
“You need to keep your fear under control!” she barked. “Your mounting terror is causing your illusions to turn on you and fight back!”
She was a force of nature, standing strong, eye blazing and determined while she hacked at another tentacle.
Before Tristan could grapple with his raging emotions, King Midas stepped into view, his steely glare on Tristan.
“Guards!” he yelled in a commanding voice. “Bring him to me!”
Tristan’s ears rang and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he watched the guards draw their swords and start to march toward him.
Aurora exploded into motion, a whirlwind of fury that whipped through the air. Every blow echoed with an intensity beyond her physical form as she threw herself at the guards. Every hit she landed was delivered with enough force to make even the strongest man stumble and shake in fear.
Watching her in action lit a spark, and suddenly Tristan came to life. He punched one of the guards and took his sword.
With a roar, Tristan lunged forward, slashing and stabbing with an intensity he’d never known he possessed. With every swing of his sword, the fear and rage that had been burning inside him intensified until no amount of force could contain it.
The battle raged on as Tristan pushed himself beyond what he thought was possible. Finally, in one last surge, he drove his sword straight through Neri’s heart.
Tristan watched in amazement as, one by one, the people in the grand hall disappeared, quietly fading into the shadows until it was just Aurora and him left standing in the center of the empty hall. Silence descended upon them like a cloud.
Aurora looked at him, concern etched on her face. “Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly.
Tristan shook his head, dropping the sword with a clang, unsure whether it was fear or fury that had him trembling. “I need to wake up,” he said, his voice shaking.
Aurora gave him a firm nod. “Come with me.”
They marched up the winding stairs of the castle, their feet thudding heavily against the creaking steps. On each landing, they paused to catch their breath, tasting the smoky air. When they finally reached the top, Aurora opened the heavy doors that led onto the roof.
As soon as Tristan stepped out, the rain cleared. Even though the sun was shrouded by gray clouds, it was still light out.
Tristan looked up to the gloomy sky, feeling a twinge of residual dread. He glanced around, wondering if there were more illusions coming his way. His heart raced as he sat on the parapet wall, his thoughts running wild with the events that had just unfolded.
Seeing his father again stirred up so much emotion. He had been pushing them down, trying to ignore them, and they festered. All of his confusion, hurt, and fury concocted something terrible—a wretched kind of turmoil that created his worst nightmare.
If it wasn’t for Aurora’s intervention, he was certain that he would have died. And for a splinter of a moment, he thought that might not have been a bad thing. At least death would bring an end to all of his suffering.
The sky darkened above them, covering the roof in a deep shadow. By the look on Aurora’s face as she glanced up, he could tell the weather was mirroring his emotions.
Aurora eased herself onto the parapet next to him, her eyes flickering from his furrowed brows to his downturned mouth. She reached out a hand and gently rested it on his arm. “Breathe in,” she whispered, sucking in her own deep breath. “Then out.”
Tristan did as she said, and a soothing calm washed over him. His heartbeat slowed, and his swirling thoughts cleared like a sunny day. “Thank you,” he breathed. “And you were right, that was absolutely wretched.”
