BLEEDING VELVET

"He loved me like a scripture. Then broke me like a law."

—Almond

It started with the pain.

Not the kind that bruises skin, but the kind that claws through memory. Almond sat in the hollow light of the ruined chapel, her fingers trembling as she reached out toward Aren's body. He was breathing. Just barely.

But he was still tethered.

"Kairo," she said, voice hoarse. "Tell me you feel it too."

Kairo nodded slowly. "His soul's scarred. That thing—it didn't just ride him. It fed on him."

Velda limped toward them, eyes shadowed, mouth twisted in something between guilt and love.

"We have to move," she said. "The Prophet isn't gone. That was just... an extension."

Almond swallowed. Her bones ached. Her spirit felt fractured. "Then where's the real one?"

The church whispered in response.

No wind. No storm.

Just that damn candle, still lit in the corner. Red wax pooling like blood.

Velda stared at it, mouth parting. "Oh, f—"

The candle flared. Then extinguished.

And in its place, a man stood.

He was tall. Lean. Beautiful in a way that wasn't fair. Hair dark as midnight, braided at the sides. Skin the color of war. A mouth curved in eternal sin.

But it was his eyes that froze them all.

They were every color Almond had ever cried.

"You called?" the Prophet said.

Velda lunged first. Predictable. Beautiful. Brave.

He didn't even touch her. Just flicked a finger.

She collapsed in a heap.

Almond stood, magic crackling around her.

"You used him. You marked me. Why?"

The Prophet smiled.

"Because prophecy, sweet child. And because you were born to kneel."

"I don't kneel."

He stepped forward. "You will."

He moved like silk. Inhumanly graceful. Each step made the floor groan like it remembered every sin it had ever held.

He circled Almond once. Twice.

"You were chosen before you bled," he whispered. "The prophecy didn't begin with you. It ends with you. You are the closing verse. The fire. The bride."

Almond didn't flinch.

"I'll marry your corpse."

He grinned. "You'll marry power."

She raised her hand.

He caught it.

And suddenly—visions.

Fire. Screams. A bed soaked in gold light and red silk. Her body arching. A veil. A kiss. Blood. A throne.

A child.

Her child.

Almond tore herself back.

"What the fuck was that?"

He smirked. "Our wedding night."

"Try me again and I'll carve your heart out."

He leaned in. Whispered:

"It's already yours, Almond."

Then vanished.

Velda groaned awake. "Tell me he's dead."

"No," Almond whispered. "He just proposed."

Kairo's eyes widened. "You're the Prophet's bride?"

Almond laughed, broken.

"No. I'm the Prophet's executioner."