The air in the Bloodburn Kingdom was electric, charged with an excitement that rippled through the streets and alleys, reaching every nook and cranny.

Today was a day for the history records – the coronation of Asher Drake as king, an alien with unknown origins who had defied the norms and expectations of their society.

Whispers and chatter filled the air as throngs of people from all walks of life gathered outside the imposing gates of Demonstone Castle.

Their eyes were fixed on the grand entrance, eagerly awaiting a glimpse of the nobility, the ministers, and the esteemed elders making their way inside for the momentous event.

“It’s truly a day to be remembered,” a merchant said to his neighbor, his eyes shining with anticipation, “Never thought I’d live to see a consort rise to be king! Our queen’s love for him has no bounds, hoho.”

His neighbor, an elderly demon with wisps of silver hair, nodded in agreement, “Yes, and not just any king. One without the Drake Bloodline. Some of my friends are uneasy, but I say let’s embrace this change. The queen wouldn’t choose unwisely.”

Young demons scampered around, their excitement palpable, “Do you think the new king will bring us more glory? Like in the old tales of the Great Devourer?” one of them asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Of course, he will,” replied another confidently, “He’s the Immortal Consort, isn’t he? He earned a powerful Deviar and even defeated Prince Agonon. He will be no ordinary king!”

As the nobles continued to file into the castle, the air was shaking with fervor. Dark banners fluttered in the breeze, and the castle itself seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the moment when Asher would officially be crowned.

Inside, the grand hall was a spectacle of opulence and power. The throne stood majestically at the end of the room, bathed in a supernatural light that seemed to whisper of the greatness that was to come. The nobles took their seats in hushed reverence, their eyes fixed on the dais where history was about to be made.

In the midst of it all, the common folk outside continued to speculate and dream. For them, this was more than just a ceremony; it was a beacon of hope, a sign that their kingdom was on the cusp of reclaiming its former glory under a new, unprecedented ruler.

However, there was also another event to rejoice and celebrate for them.

Today was not just the coronation of their new king, but also his wedding to the Umbralfiend Princess. This union symbolized a new era, a merging of two formidable kingdoms. Even if the Umbralfiends were falling short of their past glory, nobody could dominate them in the waters.

As the crowd waited eagerly, their eyes were drawn to a grand chariot, its dark blue hue striking against the castle’s imposing architecture. Whispers spread like wildfire as the chariot approached, its intricate design and regal bearing leaving no doubt that it carried the Umbralfiend Princess.

“She must be inside,” a young woman whispered to her companion, her eyes sparkling with excitement, “The Princess of the Umbralfiends! So strong and beautiful. No wonder our king wants to take her in as his consort.”

However, her friend wrinkled her nose, “But that could make her dangerous. What if she poisons our king’s ears by becoming his consort? What if she uses him to help her own kingdom?”

“Ha! Do you think our queen is going to sit still? She is still our all-powerful queen, and she isn’t going to let any other woman dominate her man,” She confidently said with a smirk.

Around the castle, the presence of numerous Umbralfiends was a sign of the significance of this day. Guards were on high alert, ensuring the event proceeded without a hitch, but their stern expressions couldn’t mask the underlying sense of pride and optimism.

The citizens, while still harboring memories of past conflicts, seemed willing to set aside their grievances for the greater good. Today was about unity and the promise of a brighter future. The prospect of their kingdom gaining from this alliance with the Umbralfiends was a thought that brought hope to many hearts.

Meanwhile, the chariot’s interior, bathed in the dark light filtering through its curtains, was a quiet haven from the bustling excitement outside.

Isola, sitting gracefully with her hands folded on her lap, broke the silence with a gentle voice, tinged with hope, “Father must have already reached there, right?”

Narissara, sitting across from her, continued to gaze out of the window. The reflection of the excited crowd flickered in her eyes, yet her expression remained distant, untouched by the fervor outside. She gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod in response as if her mind was elsewhere.

Isola’s smile waned, replaced by a look of melancholic understanding. “Mother, please don’t be silent,” she implored softly, her voice laced with a sadness that came from deep within, “I know you are disappointed in me, and I am sorry I am not the daughter you wanted me to be. But I promise I won’t make things worse for you or our people. Just…don’t hate me, please.”

There was a momentary silence, a suspended breath where time seemed to still. Narissara’s chin quivered as her eyes closed, a battle of emotions playing out behind her lids.

Ever since Asher talked to her that day, Narissara couldn’t sleep that night while thinking about the past, especially memories of Isola as she grew up and the things Narissara did to make her fulfill the prophecy.

In every single one of those memories, she never saw Isola smile and only saw pain and sadness on her face.

‘A wraith in her life…’ It crushed her to realize that the impudent young man was right. She was like a wraith to Isola the entire time.

His words triggered things she was blind to before, and after the announcement yesterday, she felt maybe he was sincere about everything.

And despite everything Isola did for their sake, their people lost the war and weren’t in a good state.

What if the right thing to do was to believe in her daughter for the first time? The prophecy also hints to that. Maybe it was time to let go of the past.

When Narisssara opened her eyes again, there was a vulnerability rarely seen in the queen.

She reached out, her hand gently enveloping Isola’s, her voice no longer cold but softened with a maternal warmth, “I can never hate you, Isola, no matter what you do. You have already sacrificed so much that I realized I don’t have any right to demand you to do anything more. It’s true we don’t see things the same way, but now all I want is for you to live happily and never forget your roots. Even if you are taking the last name ‘Drake’, remember you are my daughter before all that.”

“Mother…” Isola’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she leaned forward, embracing her mother in a hug that spoke volumes of the years of distance and unspoken words between them.

Narissara’s eyes widened, her arms awkwardly hanging in the air. But then she allowed her own rigid posture to soften, her trembling arms wrapping around her daughter for the first time in her life.

And the moment she felt Isola’s frame in her embrace, a drop of tear trickled down Narissara’s left eye upon realizing how much she wronged her for her entire life.

For a moment, amidst the grandeur and anticipation of the day ,the mother and daughter found a quiet reconciliation, a bridge over the chasm that had separated their hearts for so long.

Inside the castle, the grand doors of the throne room swung open with a majestic flourish, heralding the entrance of Asher and Rowena, along with the 5 Bloodborn Guards.

Ceti was also following them, happy that this ceremony required her presence here.

She couldn’t believe this young alien, with whom she started off on the wrong foot, was going to become the king. And for some reason, her heart would race whenever he sent knowing glances towards her, disturbing her composure.

The atmosphere inside the hall, already thick with tension and anticipation, seemed to tighten further. Every eye turned towards them, a mixture of awe, and respect as they knelt in the presence of the queen.

Rebecca, seated prominently under the banner of House Drake, struggled to maintain a facade of composure. Her gaze, sharp and stiff, flickered with a barely restrained fury.

Beside her, Oberon’s pallor contrasted starkly with the dark decor of the hall. His hands, hidden beside him, were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The humiliation of his impending vassalage to this alien cur, coupled with the spectacle of watching his woman hold a grand ceremony to crown the same alien as the king, fueled a silent, seething rage within him.

The couple stepped onto the highest platform, their presence commanding and assured. The Devourer’s Throne was rooted to the floor in a very imposing manner and was reserved only for the person who held the highest power.

Asher knows that even if he becomes king, only Rowena can sit on the throne since he has a long way to go before he can sit on that throne.

His eyes shifted to the right, where there was another smaller yet majestic black throne forged for him with draconic symbols adorning it.

The atmosphere in the hall shifted dramatically as Moraxor and Narissara, flanking Isola, made their stately entrance.

The sight of Isola, adorned in her traditional Umbralfiend dark blue wedding attire, captivated everyone present.

Her twilight blue skin shimmered ethereally, while her long, moon-white hair flowed elegantly down her back. Her delicate face, framed by pretty fins, radiated a unique and mesmerizing beauty. Her hourglass figure, accentuated by her bountiful bust, was the epitome of grace and elegance.

Everyone knew how stunningly beautiful she was. But seeing her like this and dressed for this occasion made them hold their breaths in awe of her beauty and elegance.

The dark blue fabric of her dress was of the highest quality, imbued with subtle magical properties that made it shimmer with a captivating, ocean-like luminescence, echoing the color of her skin.

As she walked forward, a faint reddish hue tinted her cheeks, adding a touch of vulnerability to her regal demeanor.

The Umbralfiend elders accompanying her couldn’t hide their emotions; some began to tear up, witnessing their beloved princess about to be wedded.

Moraxor, though tinged with a hint of sadness, wore a smile that spoke of immense pride. Narissara looked composed and looked upon Isola with an uncharacteristic gentleness, her gaze softening every time she looked at her.

Asher’s smile widened upon seeing Isola. Beside him, Rowena gave a subtle nod to the Ritemaster, signaling that it was time to commence the coronation and wedding ceremony.