The Unbroken Vow

Vivian and Leonard were escorted to separate wings of the temple, as the male and female sections were strictly divided. Vivian had a strong suspicion about where they were being led, and her instincts proved correct, before anyone could stand upon the sacred altar of the gods of the Leuhtaz Empire, they had to undergo the ritual bath. It was a fundamental requirement, a purification process that no one was exempt from, regardless of status, lineage, or power.

This ritual was more than just a physical cleansing; it was a symbolic act, a renewal, a severance from worldly impurities before communing with the divine. Only after the bath could they change into the ceremonial robes provided by the temple, garments stripped of excess, meant to signify humility before the gods.

A priestess guided Vivian through the stone corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. The scent of incense and sacred herbs lingered in the air, thick and cloying, as if the very walls of the temple had absorbed centuries of prayers and rituals. When they arrived at the entrance of the female ritual bath chamber, the priestess gestured for her to step inside.

The chamber was illuminated by floating orbs of soft golden light, their glow reflecting off the rippling surface of the water. Steam curled upwards, carrying the faint fragrance of jasmine and an unknown herb Vivian couldn't quite place. The bath itself was a grand pool, its edges lined with intricately carved symbols that pulsed faintly with divine energy. This was a place of power, where the boundaries between the mortal and the divine blurred.

With silent efficiency, the priestess helped Vivian remove her garments, stripping her of everything that connected her to the outside world, her embroidered dress, her jewelry, even the accessories used to adore her hair. All worldly adornments were forbidden here. She was left with only her bare skin, her long red hair cascading in waves down her back.

The first touch of the water was warm, almost unnervingly so, as if it had been drawn straight from the hands of the gods. As she sank deeper, the priestess dipped her fingers into a small golden vial, drawing out a shimmering oil that she gently pressed onto Vivian's forehead. The sensation was strange, cool against her skin, yet it seeped into her with an almost electric tingle.

The process repeated three times. Each time she submerged, the oil was applied again, a silent ritual with no explanation. Vivian didn't ask. Some things in this world were simply meant to be obeyed, not questioned.

Once the bath was complete, she was led to the dressing chamber, where she was clothed in a flowing white robe, simple yet elegant, its fabric so light it barely felt like it touched her skin. Her vibrant red hair, now free of adornments, cascaded down her waist in unruly waves. She could have braided it, but she found the effort unnecessary. Besides, the way it flowed freely seemed fitting for the moment.

She was then escorted to the doors of the altar room. However, none of the priestesses entered with her.

The moment she stepped inside, the air felt heavier, charged with a divine presence she couldn't quite describe. The chamber was vast, its ceilings impossibly high, lined with towering statues of gods carved from white marble. Their eyes, though lifeless stone, seemed to watch her every move. At the far end of the room stood an enormous depiction of Leuhtaz, the god of light, his gaze stern yet benevolent.

Despite Leuhtaz's dominance over this world, he was not the only god worshiped here. Many deities held power, each governing their own domain. However, none could act without Leuhtaz's consent, except for a few. Ignis, the god of fire and flames. Polemos, the god of war. Aetherion, the god of magic. Vorrak, the god of weapons. Their influence was absolute, their power untethered from the light god's will. It shows the deep relationship between the gods and It was a reminder that even in a world governed by order, chaos still had its place.

In the center of the chamber, Leonard and the pope were already waiting, both dressed in ceremonial robes. Leonard stood tall, his expression unreadable, his gaze locked onto the altar as if lost in thought. The pope, in contrast, sat upon a stone seat positioned between two separate altars. His face was calm, but there was an air of solemnity around him, as though he knew this ritual carried more weight than it seemed.

Vivian approached without a word, taking her place on the altar.

Today marked the dissolution of Vivian and Leonard's marriage under the authority of both the god of marriage and Leuhtaz, the god of light. The ritual commenced with only the pope, Leonard, and Vivian present. Normally, any priest could perform the ceremony, but the stronger one's holy power, the easier it was to serve as the link between mortals and the gods.

The ceremony began.

She lay upon the cold stone surface, mirroring Leonard, who rested on the opposite altar. Between them, the pope raised his hands, closing his eyes as he began to chant. The ancient language of the gods spilled from his lips, each word thick with power. It was not a language meant for mortals to speak, it was the language of creation, of divine will, of fate itself.

A thin red rope appeared out of nowhere, shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It extended between them, each end tied around their ring fingers. This was the manifestation of their marriage vow, the sacred bond that tethered them together in the eyes of the gods.

The pope's voice grew stronger, the chamber trembling with the force of his words. Slowly, an invisible force began cutting through the rope. It frayed, splitting apart—

And then it stopped.

The severance was incomplete. The red thread lingered, barely holding on, but not completely broken.

Vivian felt it. Something hollow, yet present. A missing piece that still clung to her, refusing to let go.

The pope's eyes snapped open, his face dark with realization. He turned to Leonard, about to speak, but Leonard caught his gaze and mouthed, Later. The silent exchange was brief, but telling.

Moments later, Vivian opened her eyes. The strange emptiness in her chest lingered, but she pushed it aside. It was done. Her bond with Leonard was broken, at least, that was what she told herself.

"Princess Vivian," the pope's voice broke the silence, "you may return to your quarters. I have something to discuss with the duke."

She hesitated, curiosity gnawing at her, but the weight of the pope's gaze told her this was not a conversation she was meant to overhear.

"I'll be staying at the temple overnight," she said to Leonard. "There's no need to wait for me. Tell Anna to return as well—I don't wish to see anyone until tomorrow."

Leonard frowned but did not argue. He merely watched her go, his expression unreadable.

Once she was gone, the pope turned to Leonard, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Never in my life did I imagine that the Duke of Valerion was the head of the Magic Tower," he said, voice low with restrained fury. "You caught me by surprise, your grace."

Leonard met his gaze with cool indifference. "And I never intended for your holiness to find out. But I had no choice—especially after your shameless nephew set his eyes on my woman."

The pope stiffened. "First of all, she is no longer your wife. And second, my nephew is not shameless, he merely recognizes a gem when he sees one."

Leonard laughed coldly. "Believe what you will. But I expect you to keep it a secret that our marriage vow wasn't fully severed."

The pope's gaze darkened. "Why? If the bond remains, she can never marry another man. Is that your intention?"

Leonard's voice dropped to a possessive whisper. "Exactly. Vivian is mine. And she always will be."

The pope clenched his jaw. "And if I expose the truth?"

Leonard's smirk didn't waver. "Then you make an enemy of the Valerion family and the Magic Tower. And don't forget, I am the direct vessel of Aetherion."

The room fell into heavy silence.

The weight of that truth hung heavy between them. The pope clenched his jaw, knowing that Leonard was right. Only someone with ancient power could interfere with a celestial process like the ritual they had just performed.

The pope exhaled, shaking his head. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

Leonard's expression remained unchanged.

"I always do."