Bride Of Ashes And Blood

I don't know when sleep overtook me, but exhaustion had finally won. The couch beneath me was cold and stiff, the sterile air of the hospital room clinging to my skin. My dreams were fragments of the chaos I couldn't escape—disjointed images and suffocating memories—but nothing could have prepared me for what I woke up to.

Something felt wrong.

The moment I opened my eyes, my gaze landed on it—a black envelope that hadn't been there before. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the object sitting ominously on the table. The black paper seemed to absorb the dim light, and the crimson wax seal dripped down its edges like blood. At its center, a serpent coiled around an inverted cross, its hollow eyes watching me, waiting.

Open me.

The words were scrawled across the front in slanted, erratic handwriting. My hands shook as I picked it up, the weight of it unnerving. Every instinct screamed at me to leave it alone, to throw it away, but I couldn't. Not now.

I broke the seal, the faint crack of wax echoing louder than it should have. Inside was a folded piece of rough, faded parchment. The smell of old ink hit me immediately, a sickly scent that twisted my stomach. I unfolded it slowly, the weight of dread settling heavier with each word.

Dear Bride of Ashes and Blood,

My pulse hammered in my ears. Bride? Of Ashes and Blood? What the hell did that mean? My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of it, but the letter offered no comfort. No answers.

Did you think this was the end? Welcome to the Order of the Serpent.

I froze, the weight of those words heavy and suffocating. The Order of the Serpent. What did that even mean? How did they know me—know us? The letter gave no clues, only fear. Whoever had been behind everything was still out there, watching, waiting, and this was their way of reminding me that it wasn't over.

My breath grew shallow, my vision narrowing as my mind tried to grasp the reality of what I was holding. But before I could process it, a voice pierced through the thick fog of my thoughts, a voice I had almost feared I'd never hear again.

"Freya."

I looked up, and in that moment, the letter was forgotten, slipping from my fingers and tumbling to the floor. Alexander's eyes were open, groggy but alive, looking across the room straight at me. The breath I didn't realize I was holding escaped in a rush, and my chest tightened, the familiar warmth of relief crashing into me like a wave.

"Alexander," I whispered, almost to myself.

He was finally awake. After everything, he was awake.

I found myself standing before I even knew I'd moved, my legs shaky, my heart pounding with emotions I couldn't untangle. My love for him, the hurt, the anger—all of it surged within me, warring for control. But in that moment, none of it mattered. He was alive.

Tears blurred my vision as I reached for him, my fingers brushing his arm, needing the reassurance that he was really there. His skin was warm beneath my touch, and the reality of it hit me all over again. My lips parted, but I didn't know what to say. What could I say?

His lips quirked, weak but familiar. "What… are you doing here?" he rasped, his voice rough from disuse.

I blinked, willing back the tears that threatened to spill over. The question cut through me, stirring a bitter ache in my chest. What was I doing here? How could I still care after everything? But the sound of his voice, rough and raw, unraveled me in ways I couldn't deny.

Without a word, I poured him a glass of water and held it to his lips, my hand trembling slightly as I helped him drink. His gaze never left mine, and it unnerved me. I wanted to pull away, to guard myself from the raw emotions clawing at the surface. But I couldn't. Not yet.

When he finished drinking, I stepped back, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I need to call the nurse… and your mother. Your sister too," I whispered, my voice thick with emotions I couldn't express. I wanted to fall apart in relief, to hold him and lose myself in the fact that he was okay. But I couldn't. I shouldn't.

In moments, the nurse appeared, and soon after, the doctor. They moved efficiently, checking his vitals and discussing his recovery in quiet tones. I barely heard a word they said. My mind kept drifting back to the letter, the cryptic message lurking in the background, but I forced myself to focus on the present.

The doctor turned to me with a calm, reassuring tone. "His vitals are strong. He'll need to stay for observation, but we're confident he'll make a full recovery."

I nodded, relief washing over me, but it was a fragile relief, tinged with something darker. "Thank you, doctor," I murmured.

When they left, silence hung in the air, thick and unspoken. I stood there, torn between staying and leaving. I had no idea what to say to him, how to face the reality of everything that had happened between us.

It felt like an eternity before either of us spoke.

"Freya… Can we talk, please?" Alexander's voice was weak, but I heard the emotion behind it. "After everything that's happened… I don't really understand what's going on, but I know I've hurt you." His eyes met mine, and I saw it there—guilt, regret. Something raw.

I stayed silent, my thoughts a mess of anger, confusion, and the lingering ache of love I couldn't quite shake.

"I guess nearly dying made me realize just how incredible of a woman you are." His words were soft, but they hit me with the force of everything I'd been trying to ignore. "I know I've messed up. That kiss... I waited too long to feel you that way, and now I can't stop thinking about it. I was stupid to push you away for so long."

His words sank into me, pulling at the emotions I had tried so hard to bury. The bitterness, the pain, the longing—they all rose to the surface, swirling in a whirlwind that left me feeling unsteady.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

The tension between us hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. I could feel the distance, even as we stood so close. Neither of us knew where to go from here.

My phone buzzed, shattering the silence. I glanced at the screen—Valerie.

"Hello?" I answered.

Her sobs were immediate, broken and raw. "Freya… I—I need your help."

My stomach tightened. I didn't have the energy for this—my life was already unraveling—but Valerie needed me. I had to listen, even if every instinct screamed to walk away.

My stomach dropped. Valerie never cried like this. "Val? Breathe. Talk to me."

"I don't know how it happened but I made a terrible mistake… please, just come." Her voice cracked, and I could barely make out the words through her tears.

Panic swelled in my chest, but I pushed it down. "I'm coming. Just hold on, okay?"

"I have to go," I said softly as soon as I ended the call. But just as I spoke, the door burst open, and Alexander's mother and sister rushed in, their faces filled with a mix of concern and relief. I stepped back as they swarmed him, their presence shoving me into the background. They swept past me, their tight smiles dripping with cold disdain, as if I were invisible. I wasn't sure if their smiles were meant to be polite or mocking, but the chill that came with them was unmistakable.

I turned toward the table, my heart pounding, needing to understand what the letter meant. But when I reached down, all that remained were torn scraps—shredded, as if they'd been destroyed by some unseen force. My stomach dropped, a cold dread sinking into me. How could something so solid just vanish? What just happened?

I didn't have time to process it, though. The weight of Alexander's gaze drew me back. I turned, meeting his eyes one last time.

"Freya…" he called out softly, stopping me in my tracks. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, to keep me from leaving. But all he said was, "Will I see you later."

I nodded and felt as his mother and sister both shot me sharp looks, their silent accusations clear in their narrowed eyes. I felt the sting of their judgment, their quiet blame for everything that had gone wrong between us. I swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I needed to leave. Now.