the timid bride

**Chapter 51 – Beneath the Abbey**

The cold wind of the north whipped against Zara's face as she stood atop the narrow cliff, her cloak snapping behind her like a banner of defiance.

Below her, carved into the base of the mountain, the ruins of Velcrest Abbey waited—ancient, silent, and cursed by the blood that now ran beneath it.

Elian's maps hadn't lied.

Zara could see the half-collapsed tower nestled into the hillside. Moss and vines had overtaken the stone, disguising what remained of the old Order monastery.

"This is where it begins," she murmured.

Kael stood beside her, steel-eyed and still. "No… this is where it ends."

---

The infiltration squad was small.

Zara had chosen only the most loyal: Thorne, Captain Mirel, two elite trackers, and Elian to guide the route.

Ten in total.

They would move at dusk, under the shadows, through the secret entrance beneath the tower Elian had described.

Once inside, they would split—Zara and Kael to find the leadership, Thorne to plant the explosives, and the others to handle guard diversions.

It was madness.

But necessary madness.

Because peace was no longer an option.

---

Inside the makeshift camp set up near the cliff, Zara sharpened her blade while Kael cleaned his own.

Neither spoke for a long time.

Finally, Kael asked, "Do you think you'll recognize any of them?"

Zara didn't look up. "I hope not."

Kael studied her. "Because it would hurt? Or because it would make it easier?"

Her sharpening slowed.

"Because if I do, I won't hesitate. And I don't want to know who I've become if I strike down someone who once held me as a child."

Kael set down his sword and knelt before her.

"You're still you," he said. "You've only shed the fear they planted in you."

Zara touched his face, eyes filled with fire and sorrow. "Then help me stay that way. Even if blood stains everything else."

---

Night fell like a funeral shroud.

The squad moved in silence, cloaked and masked, navigating the treacherous path down the cliff.

Elian led the way, whispering directions, ducking beneath twisted tree roots and sliding over loose stone.

At last, they reached a narrow crevice behind the collapsed tower—just wide enough for a person to slip through sideways.

Zara went first.

The stone scraped against her armor, the tunnel tight and suffocating.

But then—

Open air.

A long, low corridor opened before her. It smelled of mold, ash, and ancient secrets.

"This used to be a sanctuary," Elian whispered.

Zara's voice was colder than the walls. "Now it's a grave."

---

Inside, the corridors branched like veins.

Old torches still flickered on some walls—meaning the Order still lived here, still walked these halls as if their cause was holy.

They split as planned.

Zara and Kael headed for the inner sanctum. Elian and the guards took the west wing. Thorne and the demolitions team veered toward the support columns.

Footsteps echoed in the silence.

Zara pressed herself against the wall as voices approached.

Two masked guards.

She raised her fingers.

Three… two… one.

She struck like a whisper of death, blade through one's throat as Kael gutted the second before he could cry out.

They moved on.

---

The sanctum was deeper than she expected.

Behind the carved stone door, the room opened into a massive underground chamber, lined with pews and twisted religious symbols. At the far end, a long table stood beneath a stained-glass window.

And seated at that table…

Three figures.

All masked.

All still.

Kael raised his sword.

But Zara lowered her hand.

"No," she said. "Let's hear them first."

---

The tallest of the three rose.

His voice was calm. Ancient. "You've come far, little flame."

Zara stepped forward. "Farther than you ever expected."

Another figure laughed. "We expected more. A crown stolen by a servant's daughter. A kingdom ruled by emotion."

Zara's eyes burned. "Better a servant's daughter than a coward who hides behind children and fire."

The third leaned forward. "We are not your enemies, Zara. We are your roots. Your people."

"You are my shame," she spat.

Kael stepped beside her, blade raised. "Say your last prayers."

But the tall one shook his head.

"You don't understand what we've seen."

He removed his mask.

Zara's breath caught.

It was her uncle.

Her mother's brother.

Elias.

The one who vanished ten years ago.

She staggered.

"No…"

"You thought I died. But I survived. And I joined them. Because I saw the rot in the monarchy."

"You *are* the rot!" she shouted.

Elias stepped closer.

"We only did what was necessary. The world is broken. The crown pretends it can fix it—but it never will."

"You killed your own sister," she said, voice cracking.

His face shifted. "She made her choice. She stood in our way."

Zara's hand shook.

Kael whispered, "Don't. He's baiting you."

But she had already drawn her second blade.

"I'm not here for justice," she said. "I'm here for an ending."

---

The chamber erupted in chaos.

Kael lunged at the other two leaders as Zara charged Elias.

Their blades clashed—steel ringing through the sanctum, echoing like a death bell.

Elias was fast, trained in old ways.

But Zara was faster.

Fueled by grief.

By fury.

By ten years of unanswered pain.

"You let me believe you were dead," she hissed between strikes. "You let her mourn you!"

"She should have joined us!" Elias roared.

Zara kicked him backward, slicing his thigh.

"She believed in peace."

"She was naive."

Zara raised her sword. "No—she was brave."

She feinted left, rolled right, and drove her blade straight through his chest.

Elias gasped.

And crumpled.

---

Across the room, Kael stood over two fallen enemies.

The battle was done.

Blood pooled on the stone floor.

Zara stared down at Elias's body.

She didn't cry.

She only whispered, "Let this be the last lie."

---

Thorne entered moments later.

"It's done," he said. "The charges are set."

Zara nodded. "Then let it fall."

They ran.

Back through the tunnels.

Back into the cold.

As they emerged from the cliffside, the first explosion lit the sky.

A second followed.

Then a third.

Velcrest Abbey collapsed in a roar of fire and stone.

A century of secrets buried in ash.

---

Back at the capital, crowds gathered as the Queen returned.

Zara rode not in silk, but in armor.

Kael rode beside her.

And behind them, the sun rose—fiery, golden, new.

The Timid Bride had become a legend.

A crown of vengeance.

A flame that could not be put out.

And deep within her—

A silent promise:

Let no evil rise again.