The Bride of the Would-be Demon King

My satin veil billowed against the wind as I walked down the aisle in the cream-colored wedding gown that the villagers have presented to me as a tribute for today's occasion. My head is lightly pricked by the crown of baby's breath that keeps my veil in place, and I clutched the bouquet of peach roses and lilies nervously and sighed as the wedding march starts to play.

I start my way towards the end of the aisle where my would-be husband awaits. It was a slow, steady, but equally nerve-wracking walk; Butterflies of every shape and color swirled all around me as flowers start to bloom where I have previously treaded. This was perhaps the final salute of the plants that have grown to love me my whole life. It pains me to think I might leave them all too soon today.

My beloved's eyes seemed to look at me with awe and anticipation. Thankfully, I did not falter with my walk. I stood high and felt more confident with each step that brought me closer to the altar where I will soon be wedded.

I never imagined my own wedding to look like this. As a young girl, I have always imagined it to be surrounded by so many people – the people whom I loved and the people whom I have met along the way in the perilous journey I have undertaken, but here I am now accompanied only by the Royal Officiator and my own groom. There was not a single human guest; we could not risk putting anyone else's life in danger. Only the wind, the trees, the flowers, the butterflies, and the other magical creatures of the island are bearing witness as we profess our love for each other today. The silence drowned my own heartbeat against the wind, but it did not dampen my spirit even the slightest bit.

My soon-to-be husband – the man that I love, but also the man that many had and will come to loathe and fear - is waiting for my coming. Some might call me mad for choosing him, but my choice rested fully on the fact that I trust and understand him and the fate that has brought us together – the same destiny that I pray will pull us through this ordeal that we are about to face. Other people do not know him as well as I do. They were never privy to all of his struggles – our struggles. Now that we have reached this crucial moment, I knew there was no coming back to the old ways. If I – or rather if we - can survive this, I know that we will have to become renewed people. We cannot simply go back to our former, wily, and reckless ways and think solely of our own needs. I have to consider my husband's needs before that of own, and he must consider my own welfare before his. But at this very moment, we are putting aside our own happiness for the happiness of those who are dear to us. I pray that this sacrifice will be all worth it in the end...

This was of course not an ordinary wedding. This can well be my funeral rest. The ritual that we will undergo in a few minutes involves the union of our souls forever. Should I survive this ordeal, it will only be the beginning. Should I perish here, my groom must make the arduous journey ahead alone and persevere with all his might towards victory.

My beloved and I have discussed all the possible scenarios a million times before. I told him I was ready for any of the possible outcome even though, in reality, I was not. I have never feared losing my life, yet my heart quivered in fear of him losing his life should I not come out of here alive. He was resolute in his disagreement to this ordeal, but I convinced him otherwise. I reminded him that before he is my husband, he is the nation's leader and that he knew the danger that lies ahead if we do not attempt to do the ritual. People's lives depended on his success. Should he lack the will to go on in this journey, millions will perish. Thus as his soon-to-be wife, I must make the ultimate sacrifice too. I must be brave enough as he is for we are each other's only source of strength. I must not look weak or fearful in his eyes, especially at this very moment of our union.

Finally, I have reached the end of the aisle. My beloved stood side by side with me looking dignified and calm as always. In contrast with the thick fabrics and armor that he usually donned, he was wearing a simple white suit that I have weaved myself for the occasion, and this makes me swell with joy and pride. His face was as impassive as when I first met him, but his eyes that contain the whole of my universe say it all. He took my hand gently, and he walked a little further with me until we stood in front of the Royal Officiator.

"We have gathered here today for the union of two hearts and the forging of two souls," the officiator turned to me, "Moreover, when this ritual commences, we will begin the purification process that will put your life in peril. Should there be any protests at any point from the two of you, we will cease to proceed further on. Do you both agree?"

I smiled slightly towards the Royal Officiator. He wore a grim look on his face and his brows were full of unspoken worries. Above everyone else, he knew what was about to happen. He was the one who planted the seed of this possibility in our minds several moons ago. I remembered the countless times he had tried to coax me out of this marriage in the past, but I have always declined his pleas knowing that the apparent pros of my decision outweigh its one and only disadvantage which is losing my soul forever.

"Are you sure about this? From here on, there will be no turning back..." he trailed on in a half-pleading voice.

I met the stare of my groom and saw the eyes that spoke only of love. It was the eyes that knew trust. We are not sure what the outcome of this ordeal might be, but we are sure of each other's love. Furthermore, we know each other's strengths and capabilities. We both know that we can pull through this if we trust each other enough. This fact filled my heart with the encouragement I needed to go on.

"I know, and I am ready," I said, and my dearly beloved nodded in agreement.

The Royal Officiator presented us our wedding rings which he had especially blessed for this occasion. My beloved put the ring on my finger, and I felt a small twinge of electricity coming from it. I did the same, and judging by my beloved's reaction, he also felt the sudden jolt of electricity emanating from it.

We each took turns and spoke our vows of undying love for each other – something that seemed so in contrast with the possibility of death that loomed over us. We spoke of how each of us has changed each other's ways and perspective. We spoke of snippets of the special times we have shared together, the fondest memories we have of each other, and we pledged our loyalty – even with death at the forefront – to each other until we meet again in the afterlife.

Later on, the Royal Officiator began tying the red ribbon symbolising our union over my left hand down to my wrist and my beloved's own left hand down to his wrists. He began citing the rituals of marriage using the Elder Tongue, and our wedding rings began to light up in the most amazing way. Throughout this part, my dearly beloved clasped my hands in a protective manner, just as we have done so countless of times in the past, and I knew that he will protect me no matter what is to come to me today.

Finally, the spoken rituals have ended, and now the final and hardest part of our wedding will begin. The Royal Officiator wiped the sweat that had formed over his brows in a nervous and grim manner. "Now," the Royal Officiator said, "the real ritual is about to begin. Starting this moment, you will truly become the bride of the Demon King. If you both concur, let this agreement be sealed with your kiss!"

My body shuddered in a mixture of fright and excitement, but my heart was at peace as my groom, and now my husband and my Lord – the would-be Demon King – pulled my waist closer to his body and planted his soft lips against mine in an apparent kiss of eternal union and death.

In the midst of the raging sand dunes somewhere in the fringes of Soccora, violent gusts of wind engulfed her mother's face. Shia cried and screamed, but even those were lost in the winds. She was terrified - too terrified for words. But her mother's face was calm and reassuring as she turned to her and said her last words.

"Remember, my daughter. You are strong. Stronger than you think you can ever be..." She whispered.

And just like that, her mother's lovely face turned into sand and faded away with the howling wind...

Shia sat down immediately as wakefulness pulled her from the grasp of her constant nightmare. Cold sweats racked her frail body, and they made her olive skin shiver against the night sky as more and more tears rushed down from her face. Her silvery flowing hair clung to her face as she subdued her sobs and fought away the tears that flowed so generously. Despite seeing the same nightly vision for months now, the shock and fright of her family's death still loomed so freshly upon her soul, and every day was a life of torture...

She quickly looked around to see if any of the ruffians guarding the pack saw her wake up from the dream, but thankfully none seemed to do so. She could just imagine the beatings she will take if they found her awake from her nightmare once more. But then again, they had been beating her every night since they captured as her nightly screaming and thrashing would cause a ruckus, so even they must be too tired to do it again that day. All at once, she wiped her tremendous sweat with the hem of her oversized shirt and rested her head on the rock once again while she pondered in the dead of the night.

The tragedy happened three months ago, but everything was still so fresh in Shia's memory. After running away with her family from Tightwater as a young girl, all she had known was the life of a wanderer. She was no stranger to the perils of constant hunger, the weather changes, and the need for good hunting tools and skills. At seven, she had become adept in the arts of medicine and hunting. She can recognize plants and treat any common ailments even when she was half asleep. Her father would jokingly say that she can live on her own at ten. Now, it seems such a rueful thought. Even though she will be eighteen by the next full moon, she wondered how she could continue living after losing her whole family from that massacre in the sand dunes.

What else could it be if it was not a massacre? Before her whole family turned into sand and became one with the sand storm, she sensed nothing. The sky was bright and clear, but in a minute, it turned dark and gigantic blobs of sand appeared. After that came a stench similar to a million rotting corpses. The smell was so overpowering that Shia's body began to tremble and sweat. She felt so nauseous, and she started to vomit violently. Surprisingly, no one – not her parents nor her younger sisters and brother seemed to be bothered by the smell. Everybody seemed surprise to see her get sick in the midst of a brewing storm.

The wind became thicker with more sand as the storm approached them. Suddenly, in the midst of the spinning dirt and stones, Shia saw a figure approaching. Is it a man, a person? Surrounded by a purplish tinge of putrid smoke, Shia saw an entity whose face wore a glowing red stone. As the entity approached, the red blood stone gathered more light and everybody came to look at it. At that moment, Shia saw her father, her siblings, and her mother turn into sand almost simultaneously, and they become one with the storm. Just like that, she was orphaned and alone.

"What was it? What kind of imp was it?" She thought impatiently as the night deepened. What is a real person? Was it a cursed one just like her? It had to be right? It had to be a cursed one too. Only a cursed one could have turned her mother, father, and the rest of her family into pillars of sand...

Several moons ago, on the day after Shia turned five, her father discovered that she can make all kinds of plants magically appear from the ground if she wills it. At that point, his father decided that the whole family must leave their village in secret and must begin to live a life in hiding.

Ever since the appointment of King Caldwell, cursed ones – people like Shia who could do unusual feats – must be immediately reported to the Imperial Palace and be killed. An old prophesy foretold of the fall of the Kingdom of Gascone in the hands of a Demon King – a king that possesses a power so vast and a heart so ruthless that he will bring upon the destruction of all the kingdoms of the earth with his bare hands. When some people began to miraculously gain special powers, everybody thought that the prophecy might soon be fulfilled. They started believing that cursed ones were tainted by the devil himself and that they would stand beside the Demon King in a war that would break the world.

Shia's father used to laugh at the thought of killing cursed ones. He cannot even bring himself to call their skills as 'curses.' Over the years, he had witnessed how friends, neighbours, and people he had known were torn from their families and killed to prevent a silly prophecy. They spared no one – nobles or slaves, the rich or the poor. In the Imperial Palace's eyes, everyone who is different is tainted with evil. But how can her sweet, young girl who can grow pretty flowers become the pawn of the devil? That was the very reason why the whole family left their small quaint village in Tightwater. Her father could not risk his child, his firstborn, to be reported to the Imperial Palace and be slain just because of a stupid prediction. Moreover, he made sure that no one would be able to harm her without risking his or her life. From childhood, he trained Shia as well as he could in the art of fighting – swordfight, fist fight, and archery, but she fell in love with dagger throwing the most. If Shia ever finds herself dragged against her will one day for possessing a curse (or a gift as his father sees it), his father said that she had to make sure that she would give them hell first. Shia carried the dagger that his father had given her since they left their hometown at five years old, and it had became like an extension of her hands and body ever since.

Just to keep her alive for eighteen years, Shia's father, her mother and four younger siblings had to go from place to place and live the life of a nomad. All her younger siblings were born to her mother while they were travelling. They never had a normal childhood. They did not have any other friends nor were they able to stay at one place for fear of Shia getting caught. They had to conceal their identities and forget any kind of comforts just to keep her safe from the grasp of the army and the king who believes in curses. And now, because of a cursed one like her, all of those that she had loved – her kind mother, her quick witted father, her cleaver brother Ran, her twin sisters Alia and Noran who always asked her for pears, and her infant sister Aram – all she had ever loved and cared for were gone...

Becoming the lone survivor of the tragedy made it all the more painful for Shia. Why does it have to be always her? Why did she have to be the reason they suffered in life and be the one to witness all of their deaths? Why didn't she just die with them? In her heart, she felt she deserved all of it. Her family had long suffered because she was born. Now, they had all died and left her without anything or anyone, so it was perhaps the way of fate to make her suffer. She hated herself more than ever, but there was one person she hated more than anything else...

Full of vengeful thoughts, Shia grabbed her fist so tight that it felt light blood would come out of them. "I swear, whatever you are in the sand storm – person or not - I will kill you. I will kill you a thousand times over and bury you in the sand. And then, I will go for the neck of your blood thirsty king..." Shia muttered under her breath as she slips into another uneasy slumber. Such are the thoughts that had kept her alive until now.

A sudden blunt pain came to Shia's side as one of the guards nudged her from behind. "Get up!" he yelled.

Shia immediately sat up while patting the side where the guard has nudged her with the heel of his sword. It was a glorious morning. A few birds cawed from overhead. They must be travelling somewhere around Ylann by now as the forest had gotten more luscious around these parts. One by one, Shia can see the other bandits wake up and began preparing for breakfast. The air was beginning to be filled with the smell of smoke and roasted bird meat from the hunt a night before.

In this group, there were about twelve bandits – all grown men who were muscular, gruff, and dirty. Ever since the new king has been put to the throne, many low class criminals had put themselves in business by capturing cursed ones, and either holding them for ransom for their families (if they were rich) or collecting the rewards the Imperial Palace of Gascone has put forth. It was a lucrative business, as far as these bandits were concerned. They just have to receive a short training from the Palace and if they passed, they received a guiding stone that will help them know if a cursed one is nearby and will temporarily help disable any cursed one's power within a few miles.

The guard who nudged her side earlier tossed her a piece of flat bread. It fell into the ground beside Shia.

"Eat up!" he said in a rough voice.

Shia picked up the bread and began munching on a mouthful. It was so hard to chew, but she kept on doing it anyway.

After her family was wiped out from the face of the earth, Shia found herself walking through the Soccoran desert listlessly. Not a day passed by that she had wished she died with them. She attempted to stab her heart (or any part of her body for that matter), but every time she did, she remembered her mother's last words, and immediately vines would shoot up from the ground to protect her body and immobilize her hands. After several attempts of stabbing herself, she gave up. It was useless fighting the plants that she had unconsciously taught to protect her whenever she was in danger.

Next, she tried killing herself through hunger. She stopped eating and drinking altogether and kept walking barefoot through the desert. On the third day, she had fainted. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the vines had grown enough to put a thick canopy above her and flowers heavy with dew and nectars had grown just above her lips feeding her sweet water until she was well enough to sit still.

Perhaps, she thought, the only way to die now is to surrender herself to the Imperial Palace. The Capitol's fortress was surrounded by guiding stones, so cursed ones won't be able to use their powers within its walls. Every month, in the plaza, the king would order the execution of cursed ones in front of the Capitol's crowd. Such barbarism kept the fright on the Imperial Family alive, even from the towns' people and their enemy states.

Shia was still frolicking with the idea of surrendering to the Capitol when suddenly, she felt her body weaken and the vines around her began to die. Before she could stand up, three men appeared and a metal net descended upon her head, trapping her firmly to the ground with its weight. Shia could have resisted if she wanted to. She could fight with her bare hands, but she didn't. One of the men held a rod with a big pearl on its helm – definitely a guiding stone. If she wanted to go to the Capitol swiftly, this is her chance then. These mercenaries will surely take her to the place she wanted to be now.

She thought they would immediately take her to the Capitol, but it has been three months already and they were all still looking for more cursed ones to capture. At first, Shia thought it was a tiresome task – looking around for prey that they would not normally be able to capture. But she was grateful for the delay too. Before, she just wanted to die with the rest of her family; now, her plan has changed.

'Why would I die just to satisfy a mad king's thirst for blood?' she thought. No, she would never die like that. Certainly, dying in such a way would defeat the very reason why Shia's whole family left Tightwater and became nomads. She would at least take revenge for their sake. The king's hunt for cursed ones left her family with no permanent home and mostly empty stomachs. She would take revenge by tearing down the Capitol and ending the king's reign, helping other cursed ones, and finding out whoever is responsible for her family's demise.

Shia was about to take another bite from her breakfast, when she sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere. The birds and animals tensed up, and the wind felt somewhat heavy. She knew from instinct that there was danger up ahead, and her eyes darted to and fro her surroundings.

Seeing her tense up, the bandits became overwhelmingly alarmed too. In a heartbeat, they heard a yell from the bushes, and one of the bandits emerged.

"We caught one! An A-grade!" he shouted

Shia's ears cannot believe it. She had been observing this group, and she knew the calibre of these bandits. They had poor fighting skills, and half of them could not even catch a deer even if their lives depended on it, so it was understandable that she would not believe that they caught a cursed one, especially an A-grade (their term for a really strong or highly skilled cursed one, who probably belonged to wealthy families since only those from wealthy families can receive proper physical training).

The leader, who was probably having similar thoughts like Shia, had his mouth caught open. He stammered a bit. "Wh-where is it?"

"There! It was caught in the foothold trap!"

Everybody got up to run and see the sight, including Shia who even outran her captors and got to the site a second ahead of them.

In a pile of bushes, Shia saw a bloodied man's leg caught in the trap. The unconscious victim's back was turned away from her, but she could tell by the quality of his coat and garments that the person probably belonged to an extremely rich family. Shia tried to turn the victim's body towards her, but the leader of the bandits shoved her away from the prey.

He turned his face towards them. Shia saw that it was indeed a man – a boy, perhaps the same age as her – with dark jet-black hair that covered his pallid face. Shia quickly scanned his body. He was unconscious, and except for his leg, he did not seem too hurt with just some scrapes here and there.

The leader of the bandits slapped the boy's face. He did not budge. The leader raised his hand to slap the victim's face for the second time, but he moaned a little.

Openly excited, the leader exclaimed, "What have we got here?!"

The boy sat up and covered his face with his palm. "Where's my mask?" he mumbled slightly.

"No need to be shy, my boy," the leader said as he tried to ferociously lift the boy's face for everyone to see, but the boy gave a violent yelp, and they struggled for a bit in the bushes.

The other bandits tried to subdue their prey. They leapt upon him and landed on a heap, but in a heartbeat, the boy was able to release himself in the foothold and threw all the bodies hurled at him while he tried to cover half of his face with his left hand.

Shia backed up in a safe corner and observed the scene. Something was drawing Shia to the boy in the foothold trap. There was something very familiar about him. 'What was it? Who is this person?' Shia thought while her heart beat very fast.

Before Shia could find the answer, the leader attacked the boy from his left side using his guiding stone staff. As the boy tried to fend off the attack, he lifted his hands away from his face, and before anyone knew it, the whole forest was engulfed in a red, bright light.

Shia could not believe it. The boy's left eye glowed fiercely with a light as red as blood itself. As the light from the boy's eye and his gaze fell upon the bandit's leader, the leader's body turned into sand starting from his face down to the soles of his feet. The boy quickly turned his face away as if trying to shield the crowd, but it was too late. All five bandits who locked eyes with him immediately turned into dust and were taken away by the wind... A scenario that was all too familiar to Shia... At that moment, all the memories of her family's death came gushing back to her at the realization of who this boy is...

Feeling all the mixed emotions of rage, fear, and despair that she had kept bottled inside her for three months, Shia immediately unsheathed the dagger she kept in her boots and attacked the boy – the same red-eyed monster who killed her family.