Torches lined the snow tunnels beneath the open sky. Whether by intent or instinct, the Velmoryns had shoveled the paths in such a way that the walls of snow were created, which now reflected the torchlight and the glow of the two moons above, creating an ethereal corridor of fire and silver.

The sky was clear, startlingly so, as if the weather itself had chosen to honor the occasion. It felt almost staged, turning the wedding day into a spectacle for the couple who now walked hand in hand, their fingers entwined. In their free hands they each held a long, slender stick, glowing faintly. It burned without flame, releasing slow streams of green smoke that curled past their faces and drifted upward toward the sky.

They were not alone. Two Velmoryns followed behind, each holding a crown Tekla had asked Gundir to reforge. The thin circlets hovered just above the couple's heads, barely brushing the loose strands of their hair. One careless step, one slip, and the balance would have been ruined, but their movements were in perfect sync as they advanced toward the Crimson Guardian where Tekla waited beneath the arch of living roots.

This is different from what I imagined.

I had expected… more. From the effort the Velmoryns had poured into the preparations, from the excitement I had witnessed leading up to this moment, I expected a spectacle: a loud ceremony, displays of magic and strength, a festival of excess. Instead, there was only silence. Stillness. An almost eerie calm.

But, once again, I was proven wrong.

As the couple drew near to Aria, who stood waiting just a few steps away from the arch, the tribe started to sing. From every corner of the gathered crowd - men, women, even children - voices rose together.

"Under His gaze, the stars take flight, Their union shines in endless night. The tribe bears witness, pure and true, As vows are sworn, as souls renew."

When did they write this song?

Finding myself in it surprised me more than a little. If only a handful had sung it, I might have thought it improvised - but the whole tribe? It couldn't possibly have been written overnight.

Ah. They must have simply switched "Her" to "His," and the song became mine.

The gesture pleased me. For all their clumsiness and half-formed civilization, the Velmoryns were meticulous when it came to matters even remotely tied to divinity.

The crowd got silent as the couple reached Aria and stopped before her.

"One soul," Aria said softly. Her voice was gentle, though her expression remained cold.

The couple inhaled deeply, drawing in the green smoke that rose from their burning sticks.

"One breath," Aria whispered.

They exhaled together. Their pale silver eyes caught the glow of the smoke, shimmering with a faint green light.

"One flame," Aria finished. She took the sticks from their hands and planted them in the snow wall beside her. From the Veilspace, she withdrew an unsheathed knife, masking the motion as if it had been hidden in her sleeve, and extended it toward them.

The woman moved first. Without hesitation, she took the blade and drew it across her palm, which was clasped by her beloved just a moment ago. Then, before offering the knife to her partner, she raised her bleeding hand as if she was trying to show it to her tribe.

As the man repeated the gesture, her blood dripped onto the snow, gleaming with a faint green sheen.

Did the smoke give her blood that phosphorescent effect?

The thought distracted me for an instant before Aria's voice pulled me back.

"Ever bound, ever same," she said, smile softening her face as she gently guided the woman's hand down over the man's, their joined palms turned toward the earth. The mingled blood slid between their fingers, pattering faintly as it gathered beneath them. Aria dipped her own fingers into the shallow pool, and with slow, steady strokes traced my symbol on top of couple's palms.

When the mark was set, the couple stepped forward together and the Velmoryns started to sing once more.

"One soul, one breath, one flame, Ever bound, ever same. One soul, one breath, one flame, Ever bound, ever same."

The chant carried on even after the couple reached Tekla, who stood waiting with a warm smile. A strange light danced in her eyes, betraying her excitement. She rejoiced for the pair before her, yet what quickened her pulse most was the weight of the moment - this was her first union to sanctify as Priestess.

"I must do this perfectly," she told herself as she steadied her breath. "This ritual will set the path for every ceremony that follows. The old oath Vael once demanded will not suffice. I must give them something greater, something worthy of Father's Priestess."

The couple glanced at one another, their gaze lingering for a moment, then spoke as one.

"Priestess, we have chosen to share our lives together. Today, before our tribe and High Father, we pledge ourselves to one another."

Tekla nodded slowly and raised her hand to the side. At once, as though she and Orrvyn had arranged it beforehand, a crimson root pushed through the earth and snow. It twisted upward, shaping itself into a slender sapling crowned with a single red leaf.

Guiding the pair forward, Tekla drew their joined, bleeding palms over the newborn sprout. Her voice, once gentle, had now turned serious.

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"Do you swear your souls to one another, to walk as one in every moment of life?"

"I do," they answered in unison.

A droplet of mingled blood slid down, falling onto the crimson leaf. It gleamed faintly green as though reposnding to their vow.

"Do you swear before High Father above, that your bond is born of love alone, and that none compel your hearts to bind?" Tekla's gaze turned sharper as she spoke, scanning the couple carefully.

"I do!" Their reply was immediate, without a hint of hesitation.

Another drop struck the leaf. The green shimmer spread wider, and the sprout seemed to breathe with new vigor.

"Do you swear that your love shall endure through joy and sorrow, through life and beyond death, and that no shadow shall sever what is bound this day?" Tekla's expression softened once more, a faint smile breaking through.

"We do." Their words rang together, this time with a smile that cut through their serious faces.

The third drop of blood slid down, sinking into the leaf that now glowed with emerald light. For an instant, fine runes flared across the young trunk, too brief for mortal eyes to catch. Yet nothing could elude a god's sight as I recognized the letters at once - the ancient script of the elves.

ⴂⴐⴍⴓ ⴑⴇⴐⴍⴌⴂ ⴄⴌⴃ ⴔⴐⴍⴇⴄⴕⴇ ⴠⴍⴓⴋ.

I need to learn Elvish as soon as possible. No… actually, I just need to learn…

It struck me only now how poorly I had used my perfect memory. I hadn't filled it with what mattered most: knowledge of this world. I knew nothing of the civilizations beyond the forest, nothing of the lands I meant to spread my influence into, nothing of the races that might border us.

There were simply too many things I didn't know. Worse, the Velmoryns themselves seemed no better informed. Or if they were, they kept their knowledge close, never sharing it with one another. Still, I already had three who could serve as teachers. Gundir and Karla both could be pushed into that role, and I had long considered laying the foundation for a school where the young could learn. That same system might serve me as well.

And if that failed, there remained the God of Merchants. From him, I could always buy what I lacked. Yet that would come later. For now, my attention had to remain fixed on my immediate goals - purging the spider mutants from my forest.

The mortal realm drew me back as the newly wed couple walked forward, now carrying the sapling Orrvyn had raised from the earth. Around them, the song shifted seamlessly, its verses turning to match the vows they had spoken.

"No tide of time, no shade of death, Can part their hearts, can still their breath. Though one may fall, yet none shall stray, For bound as one, they walk alway."

The couple no longer carried solemn expressions. Smiles lingered on their faces as they exchanged glances, walking together toward their parents. This was the third and final step of the ceremony.

The main reason why the couple seemed colorful was what they lacked. Neither of them had much talent for dark magic, which left them free with their emotions. The man was one of the helpers Gundir favored most. In time, he would likely become the Drukyr's apprentice - once Gundir overcame the shyness he disguised as pride and finally accepted him. The woman, however, was more difficult to judge.

"Qalda, my dear," her father called, his voice breaking the song as she drew near. The lean man extended his arms, eager to embrace his daughter. Beside him stood his wife, motionless, her expression as rigid as the frost itself.

"Daughter, you've not even awakened yet. Are you certain you will not wait? I fear the night may prove too much…" The man's thoughts darkened as he spoke, crowding with every bleak possibility that the long night outside might bring.

But Qalda cut him short.

"Father, please, do not tempt me! I have already chosen Yllianor. If Lord wishes to claim our souls tonight, then so be it!" Her words rang firm, though her gaze softened at the worry etched on her father's face. At last she stepped forward and gave him the embrace he longed for.

She impressed me. Her tone carried faith, but not the blind kind. I had checked her status window long ago, as I had with every believer, and found nothing remarkable. Curious, I glanced at it again. Nothing had changed, save for the devotion stat. Like the rest of my tribe, it had grown, hers climbing a little higher than most: 67.

If only she had been more gifted, I might have granted her a blessing.

"I will guard her with my life!" Yllianor said then, turning to Qalda's father. He meant to offer comfort, but the man's unease remained. Still, ceremony left no pause for doubt, and so it pressed on regardless of what the parents felt.

The couple remained with their parents, words of worry and joy passing between them, until Aria approached carrying two chalices filled with dark drink.

Yllianor's parents went first. They cut their palms with the blade, letting a few crimson droplets fall into the alcohol before handing the chalice to Qalda. She added her own blood, lifted it without hesitation, and drank deeply before returning it to her new family. Yllianor's parents raised it in turn and drained it without pause.

The same rite was repeated with Qalda's parents and Yllianor. Yet when her father's turn came, he faltered. Refusal would not unravel the ceremony - it would only mean denying Yllianor as his son. Still, his hand lingered, and I decided to listen to his thoughts.

He knew abstaining would damage his bond with Qalda, but to him, the chalice felt like the final severing of his "little girl." Memories flooded him. As a child she had been frail, and Vaelari had fought through sleepless nights to keep her alive, never leaving her side for even a breath. At that time, Vaelari had just lost his wife, and Qalda had become his fragile anchor. He had cherished her more fiercely than her own parents did, and it was to him that she first confessed her love for Yllianor. That small detail had long been a thorn in her father's heart. He loved Vaelari for saving his daughter's life, yet resented him for stealing her closeness. He loved Yllianor for bringing her joy, yet hated him for taking her away.

"Father, please trust me," Yllianor said with a warm smile, breaking through the storm of memories. He clasped the older man's hands and gently urged the chalice toward his lips.

In the end, the man obeyed. He emptied it fully, more than required. In his heart, it was a kind of redemption, his way of paying for the crime of hesitation.

Then the snow tunnels thundered. The tribe's voices burst into song, shaking the frost from its roots. The ceremony had reached its true height at last.

But the couple were not yet free to join the others. Tradition demanded they prove themselves. Qalda and Yllianor walked hand in hand toward the open clearing where they would pass the night alone, tested against the frost. They would not receive the tribe's help in building their home until the first ray of the sun returned.

I had already planned to keep this custom from destroying them. Yet I soon discovered the truth. The trial was less cruel than it appeared. While the couple braved the cold alone, the tribe would keep a vast bonfire burning, feasting beneath the open sky. Warmth and food would reach the pair, though never offered directly. It was tradition, but softened by cunning compromise.

For the Velmoryns, this was more than a wedding. These nights became a time of contest, when others could prove themselves in hopes of finding their own soulmates. More importantly, a new Vael would be chosen this winter. Teryo carried no authority or the right to be called the Vael anymore.

Even as the tribe dispersed in preparations for the coming days, their voices did not falter. They carried the final verse of the hymn through the snowlit night:

"May joy be theirs, and strength abide, May hearth-fire glow and kin reside. By High Father's grace, their path be blessed, In love unbroken, ever rest."

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