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The Temple of Fire rose before them, a colossus of stone and fire, a sacred beast waiting to devour them whole.

Two enormous fire pits flanked the entrance, their flames reaching so high Mal wondered if they might lick the hem of her gown and set her ablaze before she even stepped inside. Kai whistled low.

‘How many steps do you think it has?’ he asked.

‘More than enough to make me trip.’Mal’s stomach sank at the sight of the steep staircase leading up to the entrance. ‘I’m not making it, brother.’

Kai’s laughter rumbled beside her.

Haven turned again, her gaze sharp with warning. Her shadow-serpent regarded them through languid, half-lidded eyes, exhaling the occasional low hiss—a subtle, silken warning that slithered through the air, a soundless command to maintain order beneath its watchful gaze.

‘It has twenty-six steps,’ Kage said, speaking for the very first time.

‘He never talks and when he does, it’s to make my soul cripple with despair,’ Kai groaned.

Kage shrugged. ‘You had a question. I supplied an answer.’

‘Sometimes, dear brother, I prefer when you are mute.’

‘Kai ,’ Haven hissed, twisting around. ‘Do not insult your brother.’

‘Can you carry me?’ Mal asked, ignoring her sister’s angry look. ‘Lift me up.’

‘Do not dare.’ Haven extended a single, commanding finger towards them both, and at her gesture, the shadow-serpent uncoiled with quiet menace, its head poised mid-air—ready to strike, to sink silence into their throats with the threat of a bite that needed no venom to be obeyed. ‘This is a wedding, must I remind you?’

Mal huffed. ‘I’m wearing a red dress. In wyverian terms, this is not a wedding.’

Kai snickered. But all humour vanished as the crowd began its ascent up the stone steps. Mal shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in the warmth of the sun, the weight of this day pressing against her bones.

She had no temple of her own to go to. But she would find her way. She had to.

Somehow, they made it to the top. The temple loomed before them, a sanctuary of ancient stone, lined with towering columns that caught the light and shimmered between gold and blood.

‘May the shadows guide your way,’ Kai said before kissing her forehead.

Mal placed her two fingers against her forehead and let her hand slide away. She then bowed before whispering back, ‘May the shadows guide you.’

He was the greatest warrior in their land, and yet—for the first time, Mal saw a single tear slip from his eye. She caught it with her fingers before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Do not cry for me, brother. But the words never left her lips.

She turned.

And there he was.

Waiting.

Ash Acheron stood on the dais, bathed in firelight, golden as a god fallen from the heavens. Behind him, the enormous temple windows spilt light into the chamber, the silk curtains shifting with the wind. Mal forgot how to breathe.

Kai pulled her veil over her face and she barely registered it. Her vision blurred, but even through the veil’s delicate haze, she found him. Nothing—not silk, not shadows, not even an entire kingdom—could keep her from finding him .

The altar was adorned with red and golden roses, woven around towering columns like flames frozen in bloom . Candles lined the floor, flickering in the temple’s hushed glow.

‘Breathe,’ Kai mouthed.

Mal exhaled. And then—Ash’s eyes met hers.

His gaze widened. She watched the way his pupils dilated, his jaw tensed—the moment he truly saw her.

The golden prince. The fire-born warrior.

Every inch of him glowed—his hair, his skin, his armour, even his damn eyes. As if the gods themselves had decided to shine their light upon him so she could see him even in the darkest of times.

Mal barely registered the sensation of her feet touching the steps until she found herself standing before him.

Ash lifted her veil, their eyes truly meeting.

Seeing each other like never before. The priest’s voice wove through the air like distant chimes, but Mal could not bring herself to listen.

Her world had narrowed to the man before her, the weight of inevitability pressing down upon her chest.

A hand—his hand—reached for hers, steady and warm against her trembling fingers. A ring, golden as the flames that had birthed his kingdom, was slipped onto her finger with quiet finality. A gesture. A cue.

With a breath she did not know she had been holding, Mal lifted her own shaking hands, fingers grazing the cool metal of the ring she was meant to place upon him.

The moment stretched, fragile and unbreakable all at once, before she pushed the band onto his finger, the metal catching briefly against his skin before settling into place.

Bound.

Sealed.

Fated .

Cheering brought back all sound to Mal’s ears.

‘Now you must seal the marriage through the kiss of flames,’ the priest announced.

Mal’s eyes widened, worried.

‘It’s just a kiss,’ the priest whispered, noticing Mal’s fearful look. ‘No flames are actually involved.’

Mal’s heart stopped.

A kiss.

Her breathing turned erratic—the corset tightening, crushing her ribs. The heat in the temple swelled.

Ash’s hand found hers. And somehow—her world steadied.

‘Ash-’

He kissed her and the world ignited. Her skin burnt, her breath hitched, her mind drowned in fire. When he pulled away, Mal could barely think.

‘I can’t breathe,’ she said.

Ash chuckled.

Mal’s vision blurred.

‘No, really. I can’t breathe.’

And then Mal fainted.