The grand hall of the Ivory Tower was silent, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through stained glass. In the center, standing on an obsidian pedestal, was a statue—her figure frozen in delicate perfection.
The Bride of White Ash.
That was what the world called her now, a sacred relic from an era long past. But to him, she was not just a legend.
She was his master.
Lucien's fingers trembled as he brushed against the statue’s cold cheek. For nineteen years, he had waited. Nineteen years since she had turned to stone before his eyes, sacrificing herself to seal away an ancient beast that threatened to devour the continent.
Back then, he had been just a trembling child—a mere apprentice clinging to the hem of her robes, watching in horror as she whispered her last words before she hardened into lifelessness.
"Live well, my little one."
How cruel.
How infuriatingly cruel of her to leave him behind.
Lucien exhaled, his breath unsteady. He was no longer the helpless boy she had once cradled under moonlit lectures. He had surpassed every mage, devoured forbidden knowledge, and clawed his way to power—for her.
And now, finally, the spell was complete.
With a twisted smirk, he pressed his palm against her stone chest. Runes ignited across her form, glowing a deep crimson. The air crackled with dark magic as veins of gold light fractured the stone, splitting it apart—until a gasp tore through the silence.
A woman stumbled forward, collapsing into his waiting arms.
Warm. Soft. Alive.
His fingers curled possessively around her waist. She smelled the same—like night jasmine and ancient books. The scent of his youth, his obsession, his entire reason for existing.
She blinked up at him in confusion, her voice hoarse from decades of silence. “Lucien...?”
Ah. That voice.
Like a melody crafted solely for him.
Lucien’s grin widened, his gaze glimmering with something feverish—something unhinged. He cradled her against his chest, pressing his lips against the shell of her ear as he whispered:
"Welcome back, Master."
Her breath hitched as she noticed the eerie glow of the runes circling them. A binding spell. Chains of crimson magic tightened around her wrists, locking her in his hold.
She struggled, but he only held her tighter, his grip unrelenting. "You've been gone for so long..." His voice dropped, dark and reverent. "Did you think I'd just let you disappear again?"
She froze, realization dawning.
This was no longer the boy she had once taught.
This was a man—a monster of her own making.
And now, she belonged to him.
Forever.
The End.
