For a long moment, the world seemed to stand still.
My heartbeat thudded painfully in my ears, louder than the soft hum of magic crystals illuminating the dining hall. Allen remained kneeling before me, waiting—calm, patient, unwavering—yet there was tension beneath the surface. A tension born from hope… and fear of my answer.
I could feel it.
I could feel how badly he wanted me to choose him.
To trust him.
To step forward instead of running away again.
My throat tightened.
The sacred marriage pact—the vow so absolute that even kings hesitated before invoking it. A vow whispered with both reverence and dread, often called:
"Love That Brings Death."
Not because love itself killed, but because only those willing to stake their life on their devotion dared to perform it.
"Shellia," Allen murmured, lifting his gaze to mine, "I won't rush you. But whatever you choose, I'll accept it."
There it was again.
That gentleness that made my defenses crumble.
