Chapter3

I fell into a subtle daze.

Memories surfaced of how he used to make chocolates every morning. He would pour the dark mixture into molds to cool, cut it into tiny squares, and carefully store them in a silver tin. Whenever I was upset, he would break off a tiny piece, slip it into my mouth, and say, "Eat this. It will make you happy." Even when I refused to open my mouth, he would coax me with that same gentle tone. "Just a bite. I spent a long time making this, my goddess."

Lost in those memories, I remained silent. Chloe spoke up first. "Damien, that’s for Morkel. How is she worthy of drinking something so precious?"

He explained, "The location for this ritual is much too dangerous. I'm worried she might die on the altar before we even finish. This is a rare practice opportunity for you, and I can't bear to see you disappointed. We'll just have to shortchange Morkel for today. I'll make a fresh batch for him once this is over."

"Fine." She cradled the snake in her arms, shooting me a reluctant glare. "Consider yourself lucky. Remember to thank us after your resurrection."

A bitter laugh nearly escaped my lips.

He was forcing me to drink a snake's leftovers, and I was expected to be grateful.

Damien wrenched my jaw open and poured the Shadow Dew down my throat. The liquid ignited the moment it went down—shadow magic violently clashing with my angelic essence. My throat spasmed uncontrollably. Chloe watched from the sidelines, a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

As I choked down the last drop, the interrupted ritual resumed.

Chloe's technique was clumsy. After what felt like endless torment, she finally located the right spot. The curse mark began its process of replacing my heart. A violent tremor wracked my entire body. Under the excruciating agony, my flesh no longer felt like my own, and tears surged from my eyes completely out of my control.

Damien wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We're almost there, Aria. Just hold on a little longer. You can have whatever you want as compensation once this is done. A castle, land, magic crystals, or anything else—you name it."

I gave a sad, desolate smile.

Four years ago, Damien's attitude toward me had grown impossibly cold overnight. When I reminded him of the future he had promised me beneath the wisteria vines, he merely laughed, claiming our engagement was strictly to secure an obedient angelic mate. I reminded him how he used to stay awake all night watching over me when I was injured, how he would scour the entire territory just because I casually mentioned a craving for chocolate. In response, he only tossed a prayer scroll at me and told me to take my questions to God.

I actually went to the Holy Temple. It was there, after a sudden spell of unconsciousness, that "God's Oracle" appeared to me. The mandate of "Nine Acts of Repayment" felt like a lifeline. It was the sole reason I willingly lay down on that sacrificial altar to endure those offerings, time and time again.

I vividly remembered the very first sacrifice: the prime feather of my left wing. It was given to Chloe to cure her congenital mana deficiency. Thanks to that, Damien's childhood sweetheart experienced stable magic for the first time in her life. It finally granted her the foundation she needed to study forbidden dark arts. And I was naturally the perfect test subject for her experiments. I had my bones extracted, my blood drained, and my celestial wings torn apart. Those first eight sacrifices left my body littered with silvery-white scars. I used to love soaring through the sky more than anything, but now, even after each resurrection, the lingering shadow magic prevented my wings from ever fully unfurling.

It wasn't until today that I realized the truth. I never needed to endure those four years of agony.

I gritted my teeth. "Damien... what if I actually die this time?"

He stroked my cheek. "Don't jinx yourself. Even if you die and get dragged down to Hell, I'll follow you right into the inferno."

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting against the scorching agony of the Shadow Dew ravaging my insides. "You had better... keep your word."

"Planning a lovers' suicide, are we?" Chloe casually chimed in, completely ignoring the focus she needed for the ritual. "What about me?"

"You're my oldest friend, and you saved my life. Your needs always come first," Damien replied, his tone dripping with indulgence. "If you asked for the stars, I'd pluck them from the sky for you."

"Really?" Her voice lilted upward before dipping into a pout. "But you won't even let me record the full disintegration of her angelic wings."

"It's for your own good. This ritual is extremely complex. What if it spirals out of control and the backlash hits you?"

Chloe wasn't ready to drop it. "But my coven has never witnessed the crumbling of an angelic essence. They all want to see it, and getting this on a recording crystal would push my forbidden arts research so much further. Please, Damien. Be a little supportive of our magical exploration."

"I can never win with you. Just don't go hiding under your covers to cry if you embarrass yourself."

He actually pulled out a memory crystal and prepped it for recording, not once sparing a thought to ask for my consent. The internal immolation from the Shadow Dew, coupled with the searing corrosion of the curse mark, compounded into an overwhelming agony. My consciousness was beginning to slip away.

Staring at the crystal now hovering in the air, I gritted my teeth and screamed, "Stop! I do not consent to this."

Damien didn't even pause his handiwork. "Just this once. After we're done here, we can have our wedding anywhere you want. The White Feather Plains, the Holy Temple, or my castle—it's entirely up to you."

I locked my blurred gaze onto his face. "Damien... is our wedding nothing more than a bargaining chip to you?"

"The truth is... you don't love me at all, do you?"