The wind carried the scent of wild jasmine and fresh rain across the valley. The ruined lands once darkened by King Theodore's tyranny now shimmered with life. The skies had never looked clearer, nor the stars brighter.
Tonight, a new chapter would begin.
The great temple, once used for sacrifices and blood rituals, had been reborn—cleansed by Isen's magic and Ivy's healing spirit. The ivy vines that once trembled in fear now bloomed freely, coiling around marble pillars, releasing blossoms that glowed faintly in the dusk light.
The people gathered in thousands, dressed in their finest silks and embroidered robes, their faces full of hope. From merchants to warriors, from orphans to elders—they all came, because this wasn't just a wedding.
It was a rebirth.
And at the center of it stood the bride.
Ivy.
She stood in the sacred garden behind the sanctuary, surrounded by a circle of enchantresses weaving blessings into the air. Her dress shimmered like moonlight on water—woven from threads of magic spun by the forest spirits, stitched with flowers from the Ivy of Aenya itself.
The bodice was laced with golden ivy leaves, the skirt flowing in layers of gossamer white, tinged with green that shimmered as she moved. Her hair, once wild and tangled in the winds of fate, now fell in soft waves over her shoulders, crowned with a circlet of silver and living ivy vines that bloomed as she breathed.
She looked at her reflection in the crystal basin.
She didn't see the girl who had once been used as a pawn. She saw a queen.
"Ivy," came a familiar voice behind her.
She turned. It was Elira, her friend and one of the few who had survived the old palace. Tears gleamed in her eyes. "He's waiting for you."
Ivy smiled, heart racing. "And I've waited for him."