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When I stepped out of my chambers, the weight of my destiny settled around my shoulders like a cloak. The corridors of the Eternal Temple were a blur of white marble and golden light. Courtiers and servants pressed themselves against the walls as I passed, their whispers following in my wake.

“Did you hear?—?”

“Shadow magic at the borders?—”

“Surely they wouldn’t dare?—”

“My, my, aren’t we popular today?” Melo muttered. “Though I suspect it has less to do with your stunning ensemble and more with the possibility of a certain dark and brooding gatecrasher.”

As I approached the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, I caught sight of my uncle, resplendent in his formal robes. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when he offered me his arm.

“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked, his voice low.

I met his gaze steadily. “Does it matter?”

Each step toward Deniz was another step toward security for my future. For what I needed to protect. The thought of what this marriage would secure kept me moving forward despite my dread.

The doors swung open, and a hush fell over the assembled crowd.

The scent of incense and divine magic filled the air, mingling with the floral perfumes of hundreds of guests.

Golden light spilled from enchanted crystals suspended from the vaulted ceiling, casting a heavenly glow over the white marble and gilded decorations.

The temple—sacred to the light deities and protected by ancient wards—should have felt safe, impregnable.

Yet as I entered the hall, something felt wrong—a subtle dissonance in the magic that flowed through this place.

When I crossed the threshold, I sensed the weight of a hundred gazes upon me. Expectant. Hungry. Judging.

And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, a pair of familiar green eyes watched my every move. I froze for a split second, nearly swearing when I recognized them.

Impossible, I told myself.

I lifted my chin and walked forward to meet my destiny, praying that the trembling in my heart didn’t show in my steps.

“Remember,” Melo whispered, pressing close to my side, “whatever happens in there, I’ve got your back. And my teeth. Mostly my teeth.”

Despite everything, I felt a small smile tugging at my lips. With Melo by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next.

The temple fell silent when Deniz reached for my hand.

Everything went still—unnaturally, terrifyingly still.

The air thickened, the pressure building until it felt ready to explode.

The scent of magical energy—usually bright and clean in the light temple—grew heavy, tinged with the metallic tang of shadow magic.

One by one, the eternal flames flickered and died.

The divine magic that usually flowed through the temple in golden streams became sluggish, as if something darker was consuming it. Shadow magic flooded the sacred space. Guests shifted uneasily in their seats, sensing the wrongness of it all.

“By the power of the Isik Sarayi,” the Light Court priest began, his voice trembling slightly, “we gather to witness?—”

The temperature plummeted. Frost formed on the goblets, shattering some with sharp cracks that echoed through the silence.

Frost crept across the marble floor, dark veins threading through white stone.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might shatter my ribs, because I knew—gods help me, I knew—what this stillness meant. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

It couldn’t be him.

Every fiber of my being insisted this was impossible.

The air tore open, darkness pouring through the wound in reality. Time stopped the moment he materialized through the shadows.

My heart forgot how to beat, then restarted with painful force.

This wasn’t possible. Once I walked away from him, I told myself that he had died.

He was no longer the man I had fallen for, but a shadow lord who desired unlimited power.

I’d spent five years mourning him, trying to forget the betrayal I witnessed that night.

But dead men didn’t command darkness like it extended from their souls. Dead men didn’t make the air crackle with power that felt like midnight and sin. Dead men didn’t stare at me with eyes that burned with green fire, filled with possession and promises of violence that turned my blood.

“Impossible,” I whispered, but even that small sound of my voice drew his attention.

His gaze raked over me—white dress, flowing veil, trembling hands—and something lethal flashed across his face.

The greatest Golge Bey. The man who destroyed my heart so completely that I lost my mind.

He looked the same, utterly transformed.

The man who shattered me stood tall and formidable, his dark-blond hair—once short and boyish—now falling in waves to his shoulders, framing a face I’d memorized in both dreams and nightmares.

Those green eyes that once softened only for me now burned with icy fire.

Shadows twined around him in wisps of living smoke, black tendrils drinking in the surrounding light.

His tailored black suit absorbed the light around him, the fabric shifting and rippling with living shadows.

Power radiated from him in waves, the divine light in my veins singing with treacherous recognition.

"I'm sick of people touching my things." His voice flowed with the sweetness of poisoned honey while darkness twisted at his feet. "Step away from her."

Deniz's hand tightened on my arm. "She was never yours, shadow lord. This marriage has been?—"

The rest of his words died in a wet gurgle when Hakan's hand plunged through his chest, ripping through bone and tissue effortlessly. Blood sprayed across my white dress in an arc of crimson. I watched in horror when he drew Deniz's still-beating heart out, shadows dancing over the pulsing organ.

"I warned you," Hakan said almost in a whisper, then crushed the heart. Bile rose in my throat at the sound of tissue and arteries being pulverized. Dark blood dripped between his fingers while Deniz's body crumpled, his face frozen in eternal shock.

Screams erupted through the temple. Guests scrambled for exits that suddenly didn't exist, blocked by writhing walls of shadow. I should have been terrified. It should have been running. Instead, I remained rooted in place while Hakan stepped over the body and approached me with fluid menace.

He didn't bother wiping the blood from his hands when he grabbed me, dragging me against his chest. The metallic scent of death mingled with his own—spice and darkness and everything I'd tried so hard to erase from my memories. Five years of heartbreak and healing undone in an instant.

"The ceremony will continue," he commanded, voice echoing with power. "With a different groom."

"I won't marry you!" I said, rage clear in my voice, trying to wrench away, but I knew all my efforts were in vain.

“Don’t forget you were always going to be mine, now… Alper, make it official,” he said to the priest.

His voice was so gentle and yet commanding, sending a shiver down my spine.

The priest, trembling and pale, began the binding rites.

Each word felt like a death sentence while Hakan's magic wrapped around us both, suffocating and seductive.

I barely registered the exchange of our vows.

My heart pounded wildly when I said, "I do," not even knowing why or how.

His hand clutched my arm tightly as our energies bound in unwanted harmony.

Then his bloody hand seized my chin, smearing Deniz's blood across my skin when he smiled at me.

“Do you remember that night on the rooftop when I vowed that if another man ever touched you, I would rip his heart out and make you watch it beat its last? I always keep my promises, Ada.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper, each word dripping with possessive fury and dark satisfaction.

Then his mouth crashed into mine, tasting of darkness, copper, and sin. His kiss was punishment and possession, a reminder of everything I’d spent five years trying to forget. My mind screamed to resist, but my treacherous body remembered—remembered him, remembered us, remembered everything.

The last thing I felt before consciousness slipped away was his satisfied smile against my lips, and he whispered the words.

“Welcome home, my wife.”