🏆 SHORTLIST - OPEN NOVELLA CONTEST 2024 🏆
A witch has to pretend to be the wife of the Prince of the Dead in exchange for resurrecting her lover.
⋯⋯⋯
Mavyn of Krauss has...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The moment her soles hit the barren crags of a new place, she turned to Valen who regarded her from the corner of his eyes. "Do I still need to be in this dress?" She gestured to the flowing skirt and the tight corset in general, but who knew how it computed into Valen's mind? "I would prefer to be in something I'm comfortable in. Like Roassa's wardrobe."
Valen's red eyes swept across the uneven plain. Past the tall and thick stone walls barring their way towards something, nothing but pointed rocks and jagged paths crawled away from them. A sheet of green-gray mist hung over their heads and swept by their feet. Apart from those, the world was tranquil, with not a sign of disturbance. Paradise, indeed.
"Are you certain?" he clarified, a hint of hesitance creeping into his words. "My sister has a habit of overcompensating. I do not want you to feel underdressed."
The image of Prisca's grand entrance flashed into the front of Mavyn's mind. Yes, that was enough to make her self-conscious even with Valen's fashion skills. But this was a normal day, and Prisca must be dead tired maintaining Paradise. "It should be fine," she said with a small nod. "Get me trousers or something."
Valen waved his hand with a half-sigh. Soft prickles of magic washed over her, taking away the skirts in a swish. A gasp escaped her lips in relief when the corset evaporated to nothing. She had never seen it happen before, but dark cloth wove itself from nothing before wrapping around her body in swathes of silk and satin until a studded suit like Roassa's hung in her frame. The Living World only afforded her dresses and loose blouses paired with skirts. Never had she been stuffed into an apparel meant for men.
It was amazing.
A throat clearing tore Mavyn's attention from the ease and freedom the trousers gave her. She turned to Valen who tucked his hands into his pockets. "Shall we?" was all he said, offering her an arm for her to cling to.
Mavyn had a split second to decide whether to appear as a proper wife or to forge ahead without his help. She chose the latter. They could always keep up the appearances when there were people to please. If Valen was hurt by that, he didn't make a fuss, following her path through a pair of enormous gates bedecked with sparkling diamonds.
With the daily death tolls even just in Krauss, it was a wonder how everything was quiet and still. No spirits milled about like how she observed them outside the windows of the Judgment Seat. The wind blew in cool bursts, shuffling her hair which Valen let down from its cage. It wasn't enough to push her off her feet, unlike torrential blasts of summer storms back home.
They strode past the open gates, and as they cleared the adorned arch, the doors groaned to a close. The sound of locks being bolted echoed in her wake. If she needed to run for her life, it wouldn't be through that.
But why would she need to run? She was in axes-damned Paradise, and the myths barely did it justice. The Garden of Eden stretched out before her, and with Valen at her side, taking it in as he would a mortal dying, it made everything more...real.
