Chapter 47 Bella
BELLA
Iwake before sunrise. The air is cool—smoke-dusted wind drifting through broken window frames, the scent of wild jasmine drifting in.
I lie still for a moment, letting my chest heave, feeling the weight of everything tangled in my limbs: grief, hope, memory, love.
Then I rise, stepping into the gown Sorena wove.
It shimmers like stardust, threads silver and pale blue interwoven to catch even the faintest light. Each stitch feels sacred, a promise.
I peer into the mirror. The train fans out behind me. The bodice fits tight, hugging old scars. My reflection is half warrior, half bride. I lift one hand and touch a seam. My breath hits harsh in my throat. “I look like a cupcake with a gun,” I mutter.
Gake stifles a laugh behind me. “Cupcake is an understatement. You look radiant.” His tone teases, warm.
“I’ll take radiant,” I say, letting a smile tremble. My heart puffs in my chest.
Through the door, Natalie appears: pink gown, floral crown sliding sideways off her horns, scales glinting in early light. She skitters forward on clawed feet. “Can I call you Momma Dragon now?” she demands, a cheeky glint in her eyes.
I crouch. “You can call me whatever you want, kid.” I brush her cheek, scale soft against my finger. She grins, then plants a kiss on my nose.
Ghale and Sorena appear behind her, adjusting her crown and smoothing stray curls of her hair. Sorena’s eyes shimmer. “She’s perfect.”
I pause a moment, tugging at the hem of the gown. “I’m terrified.”
“You don’t have to be brave today,” Sorena whispers, lowering her voice. “Just you.”
I nod and step out.
The ceremony site is a moonlit clearing behind the restored ancestral garden in Xeros.
Lanterns drift on wires, shadows dancing across old stone.
A small circle of loved ones: elders, survivors, friends who crossed galaxies for this day.
The soft rustle of silks, the hum of tech drones camouflaged overhead, and the scent of jasmine and firewood heavy in the night. It is sacred, tenuous.
The officiant stands between two columns of intertwined human and Grolgath wood, vines crawling up. He speaks first in my native tongue, then in Grolgath: lines of unity, of vows, of the new age. I watch Kage at the arbor. His silhouette is strong, proud. His eyes flick to me, softening.
He strides forward to join me. Our hands meet. I squeeze his fingers. My heart Pant.
I whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
He leans his forehead to mine. “Me neither.”
The officiant gestures. “You may exchange vows.”
My mouth dries. I clear my throat and begin.
“Kage, when I first met you, I saw scars. I saw danger. I never dreamed I would see love. But you taught me better.” I pause, voice trembling.
“I vow to protect your heart as fiercely as you protected mine. To stand with you when storms come. To forgive your mistakes as I hope you’ll forgive mine. I vow all of it, now and always.”
I look up. His eyes glitter wet. Natalie steps forward, ring pillow in hand, trembling. I smile at her.
He takes my hand. “Bella, I vow to guard your light—even when darkness wants to snuff it out. I’ll carry you when you can’t, fight when you must, and love you beyond words, beyond life itself.”
My breath stutters. The hush around us feels like the world holding its breath.
Natalie steps between us. She clears her throat. “I present you…” She holds up two rings, one small, one large. “These are for you and mama and daddy.”
We laugh softly, tears in our throats.
Kage takes the smaller ring, slips it onto my finger. Then he bends, gives me his ring—he slips it on. Our hands lock.
He leans in. We kiss. Soft. Messy. Full of everything we couldn’t say before. I whisper, “I’ll always come back to you.” He laughs, a quivering edge to it. “Try leaving. See what happens.”
The crowd chuckles. Applause ripples in low waves.
At the reception, fairy-lights flare overhead. The scent of spiced wine, roasted nuts, sweet pastries. Natalie’s center of attention—her shifting stunts draw delighted gasps. One moment she's a human-child, the next scaled, her horns glittering.
I drift through guests, holding Kage’s hand. Friends I thought lost greet me, weep, clasp my shoulders. We laugh and cry both. The hum of voices, the soft beat of music, the taste of honeyed sweets—all of it presses into me like life itself.
Later, the crowd thins. Lanterns dim. The music becomes a low lull.
Kage draws me to the center of the lounge, empty chairs gathering dust. He retrieves an old music chip from his pocket—he found it tucked behind a console back on Xeros—and loads it into the player.
Static hum, then distant strings and synth hum. My mother’s voice, fractal, a lullaby.
He holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”
I step against him. His strong presence holds me steady. We sway in gentle circles, slow and quiet. The dress shifts; armor folds remain memory. Firelight skims over our faces. The weight of the day, the war, the years—everything unspools.
I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heart. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” I whisper.
He presses his lips to my forehead. “You bled for the world. Now it’s time the world gave something back.”
This time, those words resonate. They feel earned—not cliche, not memory, but promise.
I look up. Stars shimmer overhead in that makeshift dome. Natalie’s giggles drift from upstairs, a reminder of everything we fought for.
He whispers, “You are my home.”
I answer with a quiet smile. “And you mine.”
We remain tangled in each other’s arms until the music fades, until the night becomes memory.