Wedding Bells
1591 Words
Death should have been quiet.
It should have been the end.
A final breath. A final heartbeat. A final surrender to the darkness that had consumed Frostfang Prison.
Instead—
Laughter echoed through the void.
Bright.
Carefree.
Cruel.
Elowen frowned.
The sound felt wrong.
Impossible.
Her body no longer existed.
She had felt it happen. The cold had stolen sensation from her fingers first, then her arms, then her legs. Eventually, even breathing had become too difficult. She remembered accepting it. Remembered closing her eyes. Remembered the darkness swallowing her whole.
So why could she still hear voices?
The laughter grew louder.
Familiar.
Painfully familiar.
A male's deep chuckle drifted through the darkness.
Julian.
Her heart seemed to stop all over again.
Then a female voice joined his.
Soft.
Musical.
Camille.
No.
No, no, no.
Not them.
Anyone but them.
The darkness around her cracked.
Fragments of memory burst forward.
A banquet hall.
Crystal chandeliers.
Nobles dancing.
Golden champagne.
A celebration.
Their celebration.
Understanding struck like a blade between her ribs.
The engagement banquet.
Julian and Camille's engagement banquet.
Three days after she died.
Three days after Frostfang buried her alive.
Three days after everyone abandoned her.
They had celebrated.
Laughter filled the darkness again.
Happy.
Carefree.
Unaffected.
As though her death meant nothing.
As though she had never existed.
The realization hurt more than Frostfang ever had.
Her fingernails dug into her palms as rage exploded inside her chest.
Not sadness.
Not grief.
Rage.
For months she had waited.
Waited for Julian.
Waited for Camille.
Waited for someone.
Anyone.
To come.
To tell her there had been a mistake.
To tell her she wasn't forgotten.
Nobody came.
Because while she froze to death in darkness...
They were already planning their future.
Together.
A sob escaped her throat.
Then another.
The darkness shattered.
Wedding bells rang.
Loud.
Clear.
Beautiful.
The sound exploded through the void.
Elowen gasped.
Air rushed violently into her lungs.
Her eyes flew open.
She sat upright so quickly that dizziness overwhelmed her.
Warmth.
The first thing she noticed was warmth.
Warmth surrounded her, wrapped around her, filled her body from the inside out.
No cold.
No frostbite.
No agony.
Warmth.
Her breathing became frantic as she stared at her trembling hands.
Smooth skin.
No bruises.
No cracked knuckles.
No frostbite.
No shackles.
No chains.
Nothing.
The realization sent panic surging through her.
What was happening?
Had she survived?
Had someone saved her?
No.
Impossible.
She remembered dying.
Remembered it clearly.
Then what—
The scent hit her.
Fresh roses.
Expensive perfume.
Polished marble.
Candles.
Flowers.
Not prison.
Not Frostfang.
Not death.
Her head snapped upward.
The world came into focus.
And Elowen forgot how to breathe.
A bridal suite.
Massive mirrors covered one wall. Fresh flowers decorated every available surface. Sunlight poured through elegant windows while servants moved around her carrying wedding accessories—white lace, pearls, moonstone jewelry.
For several seconds, she could only stare.
Then her gaze dropped.
To herself.
Her stomach twisted violently.
A wedding gown.
Pristine white silk flowed around her body. Delicate embroidery shimmered beneath sunlight. Pearls decorated the sleeves, while moonstones sparkled against her throat.
The dress.
Her wedding dress.
The exact dress she had worn before marrying Julian.
Her blood turned to ice.
"No..." she whispered.
A maid nearby glanced toward her.
"My Lady?" she asked cautiously.
Elowen ignored her.
She stumbled toward the nearest mirror.
The reflection nearly brought her to her knees.
Young.
Healthy.
Beautiful.
Alive.
No hollow cheeks.
No haunted eyes.
No signs of imprisonment.
No signs of Frostfang.
Only the Pack Princess.
The beloved future Luna Queen.
The woman she had once been.
Her reflection stared back at her.
And suddenly memories crashed into her all at once.
The trial.
The accusations.
The Council.
Julian.
Camille.
Frostfang.
Sebastian.
Death.
The flood of memories hit with such force that her knees buckled.
A startled cry escaped one of the maids.
"My Lady!"
Hands immediately reached toward her.
Elowen jerked away.
"Don't touch me," she snapped.
The sharpness of her voice shocked everyone.
Including herself.
The room fell silent.
The maids exchanged nervous glances.
Elowen barely noticed.
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.
This wasn't possible.
This couldn't be real.
She had died.
She knew she had died.
Hadn't she?
Hadn't she?
Her gaze darted around the room desperately, searching for evidence. Searching for anything that could explain this impossible situation.
Then she saw it.
The calendar.
Positioned beside a vanity table.
The date stared back at her.
Her vision blurred.
"No..."
The exact day.
The exact date.
The day she was supposed to marry Julian.
The day everything began.
The realization nearly stopped her heart.
She wasn't dreaming.
She wasn't hallucinating.
She wasn't dead.
Or maybe she was.
She didn't know.
But somehow—
Somehow—
She had returned.
Returned to the day of her wedding.
A shaky laugh escaped her lips.
Then another.
The maids looked terrified.
Elowen couldn't blame them.
She probably appeared insane.
Perhaps she was.
Because what sane person died and woke up in the past?
A knock interrupted the silence.
The door opened.
And Camille entered.
For one terrible moment, Elowen couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Camille smiled.
Beautiful.
Graceful.
Perfect.
The same smile that had fooled her for years.
The same smile that had watched her walk toward destruction.
The same smile that had accompanied Julian into bed.
"Elowen," Camille called warmly as she crossed the room. Concern filled her expression—or what appeared to be concern.
The performance was flawless.
It always had been.
"You look pale," she said.
Elowen stared.
A thousand memories flashed through her mind.
Late-night conversations.
Shared secrets.
Laughter.
Betrayal.
Prison.
Death.
Hatred surged through her so violently she nearly staggered beneath it.
Camille frowned.
"Elowen?" she asked again.
The urge to scream was overwhelming.
To demand answers.
To demand the truth.
Why?
Why had she done it?
Why had she destroyed everything?
But Elowen forced herself to remain silent.
Not yet.
She couldn't reveal anything.
Couldn't risk changing events too quickly.
Couldn't let Camille know she remembered.
Camille reached for her hand.
The contact almost made Elowen recoil.
"You'll be fine," Camille assured her with a soft smile. "Julian is waiting."
Julian.
The name hit like poison.
Memories flooded back instantly.
Julian standing silently during her trial.
Julian abandoning her.
Julian allowing Frostfang to consume her.
Julian celebrating her death.
Her stomach churned.
Camille squeezed her hand.
"You're marrying the love of your life today."
The lie nearly made Elowen laugh.
Instead, she smiled.
A small smile.
Carefully controlled.
The smile of a woman hiding a knife behind her back.
"Yes," she replied quietly.
Camille visibly relaxed.
"Good."
Elowen lowered her gaze, hiding the hatred burning inside her eyes.
Good.
That was what Camille thought this day was.
Good.
Wonderful.
Perfect.
Neither Camille nor Julian had any idea what was coming.
Neither knew she remembered everything.
Neither knew their future no longer belonged to them.
A servant suddenly entered, breathless with excitement.
"My Lady, it's time."
The room immediately erupted into motion.
Maids adjusted her veil, straightened her train, and checked her jewelry one final time.
Camille smiled warmly.
"Ready?" she asked.
No.
Elowen wasn't ready.
Because beyond those doors waited the man who destroyed her life.
The man she once loved.
The man she once trusted.
The man she once would have died for.
The man who let her die.
Her heartbeat thundered.
The wedding march began outside.
The sound echoed through the corridors, growing louder with every passing second.
Every note felt like destiny tightening around her throat.
Except this time she knew where destiny led.
This time she knew exactly how the story ended.
The cathedral doors opened.
Sunlight flooded the corridor.
Gasps echoed from distant guests.
The ceremony had begun.
A servant gently touched her shoulder.
"My Lady."
Elowen inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three.
Calm returned.
Not peace.
Never peace.
But control.
She lifted her head.
The frightened princess who died in Frostfang was gone.
Something else stood in her place.
Something colder.
Something stronger.
Someone who had already lived through this nightmare once.
Someone who knew every face waiting beyond those doors.
Someone who remembered every betrayal.
The wedding march swelled.
Camille smiled beside her.
Completely unaware.
Elowen stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
The cathedral appeared before her.
Hundreds of nobles filled the pews. Council members occupied places of honor. Pack leaders watched eagerly.
Exactly as she remembered.
And at the end of the aisle—
Julian Cedric Montclair stood waiting at the altar.
Handsome.
Perfect.
Smiling.
Alive.
The future Alpha King looked at her with adoration shining in his eyes.
The same eyes that had watched her destruction.
The same eyes that never came for her.
For a moment, the entire world seemed to stop.
Julian extended his hand.
Certain she would take it.
Certain she belonged to him.
Certain fate remained unchanged.
Elowen stared at him.
Then slowly smiled.
Not with love.
Not with affection.
But with the cold certainty of someone given a second chance.
Because this time...
She remembered everything.
And this time...
She wasn't walking toward Julian.
As the wedding march echoed through the cathedral, Elowen's gaze slid past the altar.
Past Julian.
Past the shocked nobles.
Toward a man dressed entirely in black.
A man with crimson eyes.
A man who had once stood outside her prison cell and offered her salvation.
Sebastian Draven Corvathier.
And for the first time, Elowen began walking in his direction.
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