Chapter 3

The ceremony officially began the next day.

It was the most sacred ritual across the entire continent of Oslanth.

The elves played hauntingly beautiful melodies on their harps, and the dwarves presented the purest gemstones as offerings.

Countless magical fireworks bloomed across the sky above the Sunfire Citadel.

At the center of the great hall, a massive celestial hourglass began its countdown.

When the last grain of golden sand fell, Valerius and Elara would exchange blood and bind themselves in an eternal, unbreakable partnership contract.

I hovered above the crystal chandelier, watching it all like a mere outsider.

"She still hasn't come!"

Valerius's voice trembled with barely restrained fury. He yanked a brocade box from inside his robes and tore it open with rough, jerking movements.

Inside was a starlight hairpin I had once carved and polished with my own hands, along with a dried red lotus—one I had picked deep within the Demonic Beast Forest, capable of curing a hundred poisons. It had taken me three full months, scouring half the continent, to find that flower for him.

I stared blankly at those faded, lusterless keepsakes, and for a moment, I remembered the joy that had once lit up his eyes when he first received them.

"I must have lost my mind back then, keeping this disgusting junk."

Valerius ground his teeth, snatched up the hairpin, and hurled it violently onto the hall's marble floor.

With a sharp crack, the hairpin—which had carried within it countless sleepless nights of devotion—snapped clean in two.

He didn't stop there. The dried red lotus was crushed beneath his boot without a shred of mercy, ground into fine powder.

"Tell Seraphina, if she's willing to kneel outside the gates of the Sunfire Citadel and kowtow to Elara in apology, I might consider allowing her to become an ordinary member of the dragon clan again."

He shoved the remaining fragments into his adjutant's hands, disgust plain in his eyes.

"Take this trash to her. Tell her—if she can't even make it in time for the Soul-Binding Ceremony, can't even be bothered to offer Elara a single word of blessing, then her life is well and truly over."

"Yes, my lord."

Valerius turned his head, and the moment his gaze landed on Elara, his expression melted instantly into tenderness.

"You look beautiful today," he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

Elara lowered her lashes demurely, adopting an air of fragile, pitiful sweetness.

"It's all my fault... if it weren't for me, my sister wouldn't have..."

"Don't waste another thought on matters that don't concern us." Valerius cut her off, reaching out to gently tilt her chin upward. "The ceremony is about to begin. Today, all you need to do is look at me."

Before he'd even finished speaking, the hall's bell rang out—long, deep, and solemn.

"The Soul-Binding Ceremony shall now commence."

Valerius drew the silver dagger from his waist, preparing to slice open his own wrist.

At that exact moment, the doors burst open from outside.

A biting, frigid wind swept in, carrying with it a scattering of snowflakes that had no business being there. Dozens of dragon-amber candles near the entrance were instantly snuffed out.

The laughter and chatter throughout the hall died in an instant.

Every single person present—including the Dragon King and Queen upon their thrones, and Valerius standing at the center of the hall—turned toward the door with fury etched on their faces.

"Who dares to cause a disturbance at the Silver Dragon Lord's Soul-Binding Ceremony?"

Standing in the doorway was a griffon-riding knight, battered and gasping for breath.

His armor was coated in a thick layer of frost—the unmistakable mark of one who had crossed the Frigid Abyss.

Behind him, two massive griffons dragged a burlap sack across the floor, black icy water dripping steadily from its seams.

An overwhelming stench—rotting flesh mixed with frozen blood—instantly spread throughout the hall.

"How dare you! Which squadron do you belong to? How dare you bring such filth into this sacred ceremony!" Valerius roared.

The griffon knight dropped to his knees.

"My lord... I was ordered to inspect the Frigid Abyss... the overseer there told me to deliver this..."

"What kind of garbage would anyone dare send to the Sunfire Citadel? Throw it out! And drag this knight away for a proper flogging!" Father Aurelius slammed his fist against the arm of his throne.

"Wait." Elara suddenly spoke up.

"Father, perhaps this is a gift from my sister? She's suffering in the Abyss, and yet she still remembered to send us something. How could we possibly throw it away?"

She deliberately emphasized the word "gift," letting it hang heavy in the air.

Valerius let out a cold laugh.

"A gift? What could she possibly send? Nothing but a few broken rocks, probably. Since she's so desperate for attention, then let's open it and see! Let her die with no illusions left!"

The knight's hands trembled as he untied the coarse rope securing the sack.

Dead silence fell over the hall. Everyone held their breath, staring at the foul-smelling sack.

The moment the rope came loose, the mouth of the sack fell open.

A single withered, purplish-blue arm—so emaciated it was little more than skin stretched over bone—slid limply out from within.

"My lord..."

"The First Princess... she froze to death in the Frigid Abyss!"