The sun sat high, warm against the meadow grass, and a low wind stirred the oak trees that circled the glade like silent sentinels.
It was not the wedding I once imagined I would have but then, life rarely obeyed the shape of old dreams and this, in its own strange way, felt right, urgent and sacred.
Rose stood before me in a simple gown of cream, the same dress she had worn to the spring festival last year, her mother had said. There were rosemary leaves woven into her braid. A quiet symbol of remembrance and loyalty.
She had not run. Even after I told her the vows would be taken in an older tongue, one the villagers did not speak. Even after I swore her to silence just until the moon rose.
The priest was no true priest. Merely a man I trusted. A man who owed me a life-debt from a war most had forgotten.
The ceremony was brief.
We joined hands and he bound them with white silk into three knots, each one a vow made in both worlds.
"With breath, I offer shelter," I said, my voice clear in the hush."With blood, I offer protection.""With soul, I offer truth… for when the time comes."
Rose did not flinch.
She echoed her own oaths, soft but steady. Her fingers did not tremble in mine.
When the last knot was tied, the wind stirred around us like a sigh.
We were bound.
Not just in law or custom but in the older way.
The priest gave us a nod and stepped back. Her parents, two neighbors, and the old midwife, clapped politely, but I could feel their unease. They knew something was strange, even if they could not name it.
Rose turned to me. I had no words then. So I simply bowed my head and she touched her fingers lightly to my cheek.
A silent acceptance.
Tonight, I would tell her.
Tonight, everything would change.
We stood beneath the stars, the soft grass cool beneath our bare feet.
I had led her to the stone circle in the woods beyond the village, a place I had kept hidden for years. The runes carved into the stones were older than the kingdoms built, older than any scripture taught in the temples. The magic here was old and pure.
She wore a cloak I had given her, a deep blue with silver thread running through it. My mother's, once and the only thing I still had left of her.
"You're shaking," I said, reaching to draw the hood from her hair.
"I'm not afraid," she whispered. "Just unsure."
"As you should be," I said gently. "This is not a path lightly walked."
She looked at me, searching my face. "You promised truth. Will you give it to me now?"
I nodded. "I will. After this when you're safe."
Then I knelt before her, drew the dagger from my belt and pressed the blade to my palm.
The cut was deep. Blood welled, dark and thick.
I murmured the old words under my breath, voice low, threading the chant with breath and will.
The wind rose, catching the hem of her cloak.
When I kissed her, I pressed the bleeding palm to her heart.
She gasped. Light flared between us but not blinding, it was gold and soft, as though the stars themselves were blinking open inside her chest.
She did not fall.
She did not scream.
She simply stood very still… and then slowly, she exhaled.
And I knew: it had taken effect.
She was no longer wholly mortal.
Not yet as I was but the first thread had been spun.
"You will dream tonight," I said quietly. "And when you awake, the world will feel… different. Brighter. Sharper. But you will still be you, my Rose."
She took a long breath and nodded.
"Then tell me the truth," she said.
So I did.
I told her I had walked this world for over three hundred years. That I had once been a knight, then a scholar, then a hunted thing for my immortality and magic.
And that others like me, those who had turned dark with time, wanted what I had discovered: the secret to passing it on.
Her eyes didn't widen in fear. Only in sorrow.
"For how long have you been alone?" she asked.
"Too long," I replied. "But I do not intend to be alone anymore."
Far from the glade, beneath the broken arches of an ancient cathedral, a figure stood barefoot in ash.
He tilted his head as the wind shifted, as if scenting something on the breeze.
"He's done it," the figure murmured. "Bound a mortal. Fool."
From the shadows, others emerged, thin, pale, with eyes too old for their youthful faces.
"We strike now?"
He nodded slowly.
"Tonight. Before she transforms fully and the bond becomes permanent."
They moved like smoke, silent, lethal, and full of ancient magic.