The chief bridesmaid stepped forward, her body tense but calm. She her hands raised, her voice steady. “They’re not here to kill,” she whispered under her breath. “They’re just hungry.”

The bandits looked brutal, swords at their hips, their horses restless, faces hard like stone baked by sun and dirt. But she had seen men like this before. They came down from the hills with empty stomachs and sharp edges, always looking for something food, gold, a reason not to die this winter.

She pulled the ring from her finger. Gold, heavy, passed down from her mother. She dropped to her knees and held it out. “Take this. It’s pure. Let us go.”

One of the riders came close. His sword hovered in front of her face. She didn’t flinch. She reached up and slipped the ring onto the blade.

He lifted it, sniffed it like he didn’t trust even gold anymore. Then his eyes drifted. He saw her, Vela. the bride, pale and still in the Red robe. The veil danced around her like a ghost. She didn’t move.

His eyes narrowed.

Another bandit noticed Kelen, standing in front of her. No weapon. No armor. Just a servant in worn boots, arms wide like he could keep the world away.

The horse stepped forward. The bridesmaid was shoved aside, her body tossed like paper. In the same breath, Kelen turned, grabbed Vela, and pulled her up onto his back.

“Hold on,” he said, already running.

They didn’t have a plan. Just instinct. The forest wasn’t far. He ran until the trees swallowed them.

Behind them, hooves pounded. Men shouted. Kelen didn’t look back.

He ran until his legs screamed and he found a rocky hill, a shallow ledge carved by time. He ducked under it and pressed his back against the stone. Vela clung to him. Her breathing was fast. Her veil had slipped, and she looked straight into the dark.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispered.

But her shoe had fallen off somewhere behind.

Kelen saw it near the edge of the hiding place. “Stay,” he said, and crawled out, reaching for it.

He picked it up.

And froze.

Above him, shadows. Boots on the ridge. Blades drawn.

They were already there.

Vela stepped out just behind him. Her eyes followed his, and her body went stiff.

The bandits stared down, silent.

The leader pointed his sword at Kelen’s head.

“Don’t hurt him!” Vela stepped forward. “Don’t kill him. I’ll go with you. Just let him go.”

“You can’t,” Kelen said. “Don’t—”

But they were already moving.

One of them shoved him hard. He went down. Another bandit yanked Vela by the arm, dragging her toward a horse. Kelen tried to get up, but a boot came down on his back. He choked, arms collapsing under him.

Vela turned her head, tears running. “Kelen!”

He couldn’t answer. The sound of hooves drowned him out.

They rode away with her.

Kelen lay there, the dust settling around him, the world too quiet. The others guards, servants, found him sometime later. He didn’t say much. Just shook his head when they tried to lift him.

“I’m going after her,” he said.

And he started walking.

He didn’t look back.

---

Back at the Talin estate, everything had been prepared. Red silk hung from the trees. Strings of white blossoms dangled from carved arches. The path to the altar was covered in petals peach and cream. The smell of incense drifted in soft curls through the air.

Villagers waited at the gate, whispering about the beauty of the bride, about how lucky the Talins were.

Inside, Madam Ta stood like stone, lips pressed tight. Her son, Soren, stood beside her in full groom’s robes, Red with silver embroidery, the Talin crest at his collar. His hands were steady, his eyes unreadable.

“They’re late,” he muttered.

Madam Ta didn’t answer.

A guard rushed into the courtyard, breathless. “Bandits. From Jinsha. They took the bride.”

For a second, no one moved.

Then Soren turned and ran.

But he never made it to the stables.

A blade caught him from behind. No shout. Just a grunt, then a heavy fall.

Madam Ta heard it. She turned, her chest tight. “Soren?”

No answer.

She walked into the hall. The moment she stepped into his room, she saw him.

Face down. Blood soaking into his wedding robe.

She didn’t scream.

She knelt beside him. Pressed her hand to his back.

Still.

“Yelina,” she said, her voice cracking.

The maid ran in. One look, and she dropped to her knees.

“No, no, no,” she kept repeating, her hands shaking. “Not him—”

Madam Ta’s mouth stayed closed. Her eyes were glassy. But her body started to shake.

She stood slowly. “My husband,” she said. “Now my son.”

Yelina wept beside her.

“I won’t let them take everything from me,” Madam Ta said.

“Mistress… what are you saying?”

“The wedding will continue.”

Yelina looked up. “But he’s gone.”

“She will still marry him.”

Yelina stared, horrified. “His ghost?”

Madam Ta’s face went cold. “Lay him out. Dress him properly. The bride will come.”

Yelina bowed her head. “Yes, Mistress.”

She wiped her tears and moved to Soren’s body. Her hands were gentle.

Outside, the music had stopped.

Madam Ta stepped into the courtyard, eyes ahead, as if nothing had changed.

But the sky had shifted.

And the wedding no longer belonged to the living.