Shadowed Bride of the Cursed Alpha

Chapter 3: The Last Goodbye That Never Was

Elowen POV.

I walked slowly down the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing loudly in the silent hall. I was dressed in the only decent dress I owned—plain, faded, and too thin for the morning chill. My hair was pulled back simply, and I carried nothing but myself.

As I reached the bottom step, I lifted my head, searching for him.

‘Father.’

Some foolish, childish part of me still hoped that maybe, just maybe, at the very last moment, he would look at me. Maybe he would say one kind word, or nod his head, or even just glance my way to acknowledge that I existed. I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to tell him that even though he hated me, I was still leaving with respect.

But he didn’t even look up.

Alpha Cyrillus stood near the open doors, talking to some guards, his face stern and indifferent. He might as well have been staring right through me. To him, I was already gone. I was already nothing. His heart was completely made of stone, and there was no place in it for me.

I lowered my eyes, the pain sharp but familiar. ‘Of course. Why did I even hope?’

"Ohoho… look who finally decided to show up."

I turned my head to find Calista standing nearby, leaning casually against a pillar. She wasn’t here to see me off. She was here to watch the show.

She looked me up and down, taking in my simple appearance and my empty hands, and that sly, cruel smirk spread across her lips again. She stepped closer, her voice low enough so that Father wouldn't hear, but loud enough to cut me deep.

"Leaving already?" she giggled softly. "You look so… pathetic. Is that really what you're wearing to meet your husband? Alpha Theron is the ruler of a powerful pack, and you look like a beggar girl."

I remained silent, gripping my hands together tightly.

"Do you know what's waiting for you up there?" She leaned in, her eyes shining with malicious delight. "They say his castle is dark and cold. No laughter, no warmth. Just him and his curse."

She paused, enjoying every second of my discomfort.

"Father says you're going to be the sacrifice," she whispered, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "He says you won't last a week. Everyone knows what happens to women who touch him. They wither away and die. Oh, Elowen… imagine it. You'll be all alone in that big, scary place, and you'll be waiting for death every single day."

She laughed lightly, a sound like bells but full of poison.

"I just came to wish you a… pleasant journey. I hope you suffer well. It’s the only thing you're good for, after all. While you're rotting away up north, I'll be here, living your life, wearing your clothes, and being the perfect daughter you could never be."

She patted my cheek roughly, her touch feeling like fire.

"Goodbye, sister. Don't expect us to miss you."

She turned and walked away, swaying her hips happily, going back to the life that should have been mine. I stood there alone, ignored by my father and mocked by my sister, as the cold wind from outside blew in, welcoming me to my new fate.

I stood frozen for a moment, the sting of her words and her touch lingering on my skin. The heavy oak doors stood open, revealing the gray, misty morning outside where a dark carriage waited. It looked like a moving coffin, designed to carry the condemned to their fate.

So this is it, I thought, taking a deep, shaky breath. No love. No tears. Just insults and coldness.

I straightened my back, lifting my chin high. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I would walk out of here with whatever little dignity I had left.

As I stepped toward the entrance, I passed right by my father. He was still talking, his voice loud and commanding, completely ignoring my presence. I opened my mouth, almost whispering the word "Father", but it died in my throat. He didn't turn. He didn't stop. To him, I was already invisible, already dead.

My heart cracked one last time, but then it hardened. If they wanted me to be gone, then fine. I would go. And I would never look back.

I stepped out into the cold air, and immediately, I felt the weight of stares. The guards and servants standing around looked at me with pity, fear, or just plain indifference. They all knew where I was going. They all knew I was being sent to die.

Waiting for me at the bottom of the steps were two large, intimidating warriors dressed in black armor—the colors of the Onyx Guard. They were nothing like the soldiers of Luminara. They looked dangerous, silent, and deadly.

One of them stepped forward, his face expressionless. "Lady Elowen?"

I nodded silently.

"Please, enter," he said, gesturing to the carriage.

I walked forward and climbed up the small steps. The inside was dark, smelling of leather and old wood. There were no cushions, no comforts. It matched the mood perfectly. As I sat down on the hard bench, the door slammed shut behind me with a final, echoing thud, sealing me inside.

The carriage jerked forward, beginning its journey.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass window, watching as the house of my childhood, the place of my misery, grew smaller and smaller in the distance. I saw the figure of Calista standing at the top of the steps, waving mockingly. I saw Father, still not looking.

Tears finally blurred my vision, but I wiped them away angrily.

Don't cry, Elowen, I told myself. Crying won't help. You are going to a monster, but at least there, you won't be a slave anymore. You will either survive… or you will die. But either way, you are free from them.

The road ahead was long, winding through dark forests and misty mountains. Ahead of me waited Gloomwatch Fortress, and the man named Theron Blackwood—a man twenty-six years older than me, a man who killed with a touch.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the nightmare to come.