My Wife Is A Witch, And I’m Her Consort

The day was perfect.

Kaelis stood beneath an archway woven with white roses, the scent of blooming flowers mixing with the distant melody of a violin. Sunlight spilled through the chapel's stained-glass windows, casting hues of gold, crimson, and sapphire across the gathered guests. They clapped and cheered, their voices overlapping in a beautiful cacophony of celebration. At his side, his bride smiled up at him, her fingers intertwined with his.

"You're shaking," she teased in a whisper, squeezing his hand.

Kaelis exhaled a quiet laugh, his throat dry. "I just—" He swallowed, looking into her eyes. "You're beautiful. Fuck that was cringe, wasn't it?"

Sakurai, his ex wife, playfully punched Kaelis in the arm, whispering loudly, "Dummy! Stop cursing in here!" She rolled her eyes but grinned, pulling him in for a kiss. The room erupted in applause.

The dimly lit corner of the wedding reception buzzed with the hum of laughter and clinking glasses, but Kaelis and Sakurai were lost in their own world. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, thick with the scent of champagne and roses. Sakurai, still radiant in her elegant wedding dress, stood with a dangerous poise, her eyes locked on Kaelis. He, in his tailored suit, exuded a raw, magnetic energy that seemed to pull her closer even as they stood feet apart.

"You look… ridiculous," Sakurai said, her voice dripping with faux disdain as she gestured to the corsage pinned to Kaelis's lapel. It was wilting slightly, a comedic touch to his otherwise impeccable appearance.

Kaelis smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ridiculous? I'll have you know this corsage was handpicked by the bride herself. She said it would bring me luck."

"Luck, huh?" Sakurai raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Well, I suppose we'll see just how lucky you are."

Before Kaelis could respond, Sakurai grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The guests were too engrossed in the festivities to notice their hasty departure, and the pair slipped away unnoticed.

They ended up in a secluded garden, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the lush greenery. 

The air was cooler here, but the tension between them was electric. Sakurai turned to face him, her breath quickening as she reached up to fix his tie, her fingers lingering a moment too long.

"You know," she murmured, her voice low and husky, "I always hated this tie. It's too… perfect."

"And I always hated how you'd complain about it," Kaelis replied, his voice equally soft. "But I wore it anyway. Just to annoy you."

She laughed, a soft, breathy sound that sent a shiver down his spine. Then, without warning, she pressed her body against his, her lips crashing into his in a sloppy, desperate kiss. It was messy, uncoordinated, and utterly perfect. Kaelis groaned, his hands sliding down her back to grip her hips, pulling her closer.

The kiss deepened, their tongues tangling in a rhythm that felt both familiar and exhilaratingly new. Sakurai's hands fumbled with his jacket, tossing it aside carelessly, while Kaelis worked on the intricate lace of her dress. The fabric slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie.

"You're still overdressed," she teased, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

Kaelis smirked, stepping back just enough to shed his shirt, revealing the lean, muscular frame she remembered all too well. "Better?"

"Much," she purred, pushing him against a nearby stone wall. Her lips trailed down his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she nipped and sucked, leaving marks that would remind him of this night for days to come.

The moment was both playful and intense, their movements a mix of urgency and longing. Kaelis lifted her, pressing her against the wall, his hands roaming over her body with a familiarity that bordered on reverence. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her breath hitching as he ground against her, the friction sending sparks through her core.

"Kaelis," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Not here. Someone might—"

"No one's coming," he growled, his lips brushing against hers. "And even if they did, I don't care. Plus you started this."

He carried her to a nearby bench, the wood creaking under their weight as they collapsed onto it. The kiss slowed, becoming more deliberate, more sensual. Sakurai's hands wandered down his chest, her fingers teasing the waistband of his pants. Kaelis groaned, his control slipping as she slid her hand inside, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

"You're impossible," he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

"And you love it," she replied, her lips curving into a smug smile.

Their movements became sloppier, more frantic. Kaelis's pants were discarded hastily, and Sakurai's lingerie followed suit, leaving them both bare under the moonlight. He entered her slowly, their eyes locked, the moment heavy with emotion.

"Sakurai," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I—"

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don't ruin it," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Just feel."

And feel they did. 

Their bodies moved in sync, each thrust building to a crescendo that threatened to consume them both. The sounds of their passion filled the garden—moans, gasps, and the occasional laugh as they stumbled over each other in their haste. At one point, Kaelis lost his balance, nearly toppling them both off the bench. Sakurai burst into laughter, her body shaking with mirth as she clung to him. She sucked on his neck, kissing it for one last touch; she moved her mouth up to his ears, making Kaelis grit his teeth.

"Graceful as ever," she teased.

"Shut up," he grumbled, though his lips twitched with a smile. "You're not exactly helping."

Their laughter faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a raw, unfiltered intensity. Kaelis kissed her deeply, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. Sakurai met him with equal fervor, her nails digging into his back as she cried out his name. Kaelis leaned his head down slowly, his mouth catching Sakurai's breast, a slight kiss, and then slightly sucking, which made her breathe heavily. 

Kaelis gripped her bottom, his hands squeezing her buttocks, their skin rubbing slowly as they continued.

And then the warmth vanished.

Everything blurred.

He was standing in a doorway now, a bouquet of roses in his hands. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, a strange, sinking feeling pooling in his stomach before he even knew why.

Then he saw them.

His wife—his wife—lay beneath another man, her fingers tangled in his hair, her voice breathy and filled with longing as she whispered, "I love you."

Kaelis didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

The roses in his hands felt so heavy, like stones, like an unbearable weight he couldn't bear to carry anymore. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed them, the petals crushing in his grip, their scent almost sickening now.

She never noticed him.

She never even looked up.

The scene dissolved again, melting into darkness, and then he was alone in his apartment.

The blinds were drawn, the air stale, the only light coming from the glow of a television screen, where a pixelated couple danced under a virtual night sky. His fingers twitched over the controller, but he wasn't really playing. Not really. He had a half-empty bottle of whiskey on his desk, tissues and a bottle of lotion sitting beside his chair, remnants of a habit he loathed himself for.

His stomach twisted.

Even at twenty, he had fallen into a cycle he couldn't break, drowning in a loneliness he pretended wasn't there, chasing feelings in things that only ever left him feeling emptier afterward.

And then—

The rooftop.

Wind howled around him, the city sprawling below in endless lights and distant car horns. The weight in his chest felt suffocating, like something was dragging him down, like he was standing at the edge of himself, staring into the abyss of nothingness.

And then—he was no longer alone.

Behind him, the Shadowy King loomed, silent, watching.

Kaelis turned slowly, heart hammering in his chest—

And before he could fully face him—

A hand shoved him backward, his stomach dropped, the world tilted, and he plummeted.

Air rushed past his ears, his arms flailing, his breath catching in his throat—His eyes stung, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

'What did I do that wasn't enough?'

And then, barely a whisper—

"I lost myself."

And then—

Impact.

'I don't know if I'll ever love anyone the same...'

Kaelis woke up screaming.

Pain flared through his body, his breath ragged as he clutched at his chest, his skin damp with sweat. The scent of herbs, linen, and burning incense filled his lungs, and the distant murmur of voices surrounded him. His mind raced, struggling to piece together where he was.

'Bandages? How did I get here?'

His body was covered in them, wrapped tightly around his arms, chest, even his forehead.

A tent. A large one, filled with rows of beds, occupied by wounded people, some groaning in pain while healers in pale robes moved between them, tending to their wounds.

'Where the hell—?'

"Kaelis!"

A voice cut through the haze, loud and alarmed.

Kaelis snapped his head up, only to be met with a terrifying sight.

A figure loomed over him, clad in a dark, horned mask, its shape grotesque and unfamiliar, with intricate carvings spiraling along its surface.

Kaelis screamed like a dying animal, More like a little girl if being accurate.

He flailed, tumbling off the bed, crashing to the ground, and scrambled beneath it like a cornered animal. His chest heaved as he peered out cautiously, eyes wide with panic.

The masked figure blinked.

Then, slowly, it lifted both hands in a pacifying gesture. "Wait—wait—! Kaelis, it's me!"

Kaelis narrowed his eyes, breathing heavily. "What the hell do you mean, me?! Who the hell are you?! Why do you look like that?! What kind of sick joke—"

The masked figure squirmed awkwardly, then reached up and lifted the mask slightly, just enough to reveal a familiar grey eye.

Kaelis froze.

"…Ripp?"

Ripp nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, it's me!"

Kaelis exhaled sharply, before pointing an accusing finger at him. "Then why do you look like a serial killer?! I nearly pissed myself!"

Ripp flinched, his shoulders slumping. "I—it's a temporary mask! My last one got ruined!"

Kaelis sighed, crawling out from under the bed and dusting himself off. "Next time, maybe don't sneak up on people looking like that."

"I didn't sneak!" Ripp protested. "You were just asleep! Just checking in on you."

Kaelis shot him a glare, but before he could say anything, his attention was drawn to the rest of the tent.

It was… peaceful, in a strange way.

Despite the groans of the wounded, the gentle voices of healers, and the occasional clatter of supplies, there was an odd serenity to the place. In the center of the tent, a woman floated midair, her white robes flowing like liquid silk, the hood over her head obscuring half of her face.

She plucked soft, haunting notes from a harp, the melody drifting through the air like a lullaby, easing the suffering of those around her.

Kaelis stared.

"Who the hell is that?"

Ripp followed his gaze, then perked up. "Oh! That's Nyxa. She's a harpist—she travels from continent to continent, playing for the wounded." He shrugged. "They say her music soothes pain better than most medicine."

Kaelis watched her, his fingers unconsciously gripping his bandages.

The melody felt too familiar.

Too much like something he had lost.

The tent hummed with life.

Low voices murmured over the occasional sound of clinking metal, healers whispered incantations beneath their breath, and the soft melody of Nyxa's harp wove through it all, a quiet, steady force holding the space together. The scent of herbs and bandages lingered in the air, mixed with the faint copper tang of blood.

Kaelis was still processing everything—the pain, the bandages, the sheer fact that he was still alive—when suddenly, an arm wrapped around Ripp's shoulder, pulling him into a tight side embrace.

"That was some stunt you pulled, little guy."

Kaelis barely had time to register what was happening before a woman kissed the side of Ripp's mask.

Ripp immediately stiffened, his entire body locking up. "I—uh—I—wha—"

The woman—taller than Ripp, with a strong, battle-worn frame and the kind of presence that demanded attention—laughed heartily. Her expression always teetering between playful and predatory, like she was waiting for an excuse to fight someone.

"Come on, don't be shy." She grinned, shaking him slightly. "You saved my ass. I had to thank you properly."

Ripp, still flustered beyond belief, made an unintelligible sound before finally stammering, "Song—"

"That's my name," she confirmed cheerfully, finally releasing him from the suffocating embrace, though she lingered close, arms still draped loosely around him.

Kaelis raised a brow. "So, who exactly is this?"

"Song." Ripp cleared his throat, regaining some composure. "She's… she was with the other Hunters during the raid."

Song stretched her arms, cracking her knuckles. "More like I was passing through. Got caught up in all that shit, and your friend here—" she nudged Ripp roughly with her elbow, making him stumble "—saved my ass. And, well, where I come from, we pay our dues."

Kaelis was about to respond when he noticed another figure standing nearby, silent as stone.

The man was leaning against a tent pole, arms crossed, his head tilted downward slightly, though Kaelis could tell he was listening.

His dark skin bore old, faded scars, his muscular arms resting idly against his sides, but the stillness in his posture carried a quiet, unreadable intensity. His dreadlocks fell loosely over his shoulders, and across his eyes, a red blindfold was tied tightly, its fabric frayed at the edges, as if worn for years.

At his waist, he carried a thin, curved blade, which he now ran slow, careful fingers along, almost… affectionately.

He hadn't spoken once.

Not until now.

"Ripp saved us all." His voice was low, quiet, but heavy in the way that made it impossible to ignore.

Ripp flinched slightly, looking anywhere but at him. "I-I wouldn't say that, I just—"

"You did."

Kaelis stared at the man. "And you are?"

"Xenn."

"Just Xenn?"

Xenn didn't answer. He simply tilted his head slightly, his fingers still running along his blade, as if the weapon itself was more worthy of his words than the people around him.

Song turned toward him, arms crossed. "You're not gonna say anything else?"

Xenn said nothing.

Song rolled her eyes. "Figures."

Kaelis turned back to Ripp, processing everything. "So, let me get this straight. You saved us?"

Ripp hesitated. "I… yeah."

The words didn't register immediately.

Kaelis flashed back to the battlefield, to the feeling of his own mind unraveling, to the weight of Vorh'zul's monstrous presence, to the moment where he had lost himself again.

His heart pounded violently against his ribs.

'I lost myself again.'

His hand instinctively clutched at his chest, fingers curling into the bandages as a sharp pain shot through him—not from his wounds, but from the sickening memory of losing control.

And in his mind, a voice mocked him.

'Weak.'

Ripp, noticing the shift in his expression, quickly pulled something from his sleeve—a crow's feather.

"I didn't know what else to do," Ripp admitted. "I… I saw you were fighting it, like, really fighting it. You were bleeding from your eyes, your nose, your mouth, but you wouldn't stop—like you were trying to tear yourself out of your own skin. Then you just… collapsed from blood loss." He swallowed. "So I grabbed this. It was on you. I—I thought maybe it was important."

Kaelis stared at the feather, memories snapping into place.

Hael.

Ness.

Espen.

Any of them could pull him back, maybe that was why he was able to break free. Because after his divorce, after years of isolation, after giving up on people entirely—he had somehow let himself form connections again. Maybe that's why he could fight it.

'But what happens when I can't anymore?'

The thought made his stomach turn. He needed to conform it—needed to find out if it was tied to his emotions, or something deeper.

But he stopped himself before he could say too much.

Instead, he just let out a slow exhale and reached out, sticking his fist out toward Ripp.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Ripp stared at the fist, confused, then got scared as he remembered the blade coming out of Kaelis' fist earlier during the battle which, and he said,. "AGH!"

"The hell? Why are you screaming?"

Ripp laughed in dead and nervousness, "What? Haha, nothing!"

He imagined Kaelis impaling him with the blade in his fist, and Kaelis noticed Ripp was deep in thought, figuring out what he could be thinking of.

Kaelis scoffed, "I'M NOT GONNA STAB YOU!"

"I'm sorry! I surrender!"

"You're strange, guy. Also, just gonna leave my fist hanging here? It's embarrassing. I'm about to put it down."

"W-What do I do with this?"

Kaelis blinked. "You—you bump it."

Ripp's confusion deepened.

Kaelis groaned, grabbing Ripp's wrist and guiding his knuckles forward, making the two fists lightly connect.

Ripp lit up with childlike enthusiasm. "Oh! I get it now!"

Kaelis smirked. "Congratulations. You're part of the civilization now."

Before Ripp could respond, Kaelis changed the subject. "So. When are we leaving?"

"In two days," Ripp explained. "It'll be faster if we can get transportation."

"Can't you just use your Wind Kenda? I saw you use it, you can increase your speed and strength and stuff."

Before Ripp could answer, Song interjected, slapping a hand on Kaelis' shoulder. "Listen, champ," she said. "Using Kenda drains you if you're not careful. Overuse leads to headaches, nosebleeds, and if you push past your limit, you'll be out for days."

She stretched, continuing, "Othvendell has baby Griffons for rent. Common all over the world—fast little bastards. Cheap, but prices vary depending on the kingdom. Once they drop you off, they fly back home."

Kaelis nodded slowly. "Fair enough. So like taxis and trains."

Song leaned in, grinning. "Whatever those are, sure. But tell me—why are you two so eager to meet King Vraedor the Red Wolf?"

Ripp glanced around, then kept his voice low. "Because he's trapped within the Hand of God. And I think Kaelis can help free him."

Xenn, who had remained quiet, suddenly spoke, though he wasn't looking at them.

"I know hundreds gather around the Hand…"

Song exhaled. "Damn."

A beat passed. Then—

"I'm coming with you."

Kaelis narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Song grinned. "The guild I was with during the Caliber Butterfly raid? Just met them. I don't have a permanent crew. I'm looking for a place where I can fight beside people who aren't useless. And you two?" She tilted her head. "You're interesting. And I have dues to pay. I have to, or…"

She stopped herself, not revealing the next part.

Before Kaelis or Ripp could respond, a soft voice interrupted them.

"Kaelis."

Kaelis turned—Nyxa stood behind him, her hood obscuring half her face, the harp still in her grasp.

Kaelis tensed. "…What do you want?"

"To speak with you. Outside."

Kaelis stared at her warily. "Random as hell. No thanks. You seem nice and all, but I'm kinda new, so I can't just up and trust people."

Ripp nudged him. "You can trust her."

Kaelis groaned. "Fine."

As they left, Song grinned at Ripp. "So. You starting a family with me or what?"

Ripp malfunctioned. "Wha—NO—"

Xenn, meanwhile, murmured to his blade.

"I'm still here, my rival."

The town of Othvendell was alive, but not with leisure or idle chatter—with work.

Kaelis moved through the town with Nyxa at his side, her feet never touching the ground, her fingers plucking at the harp that never left her grasp. Its soft, melodic notes wove through the air, an unnatural contrast to the harsh, rhythmic clanking of metal, the deep grunts of laborers, and the crack of axes splitting through enchanted wood.

Everywhere he looked, men and women worked—not one person idle, not one moment wasted.

In the distance, blacksmiths hammered at heated metal, forging weapons inscribed with runes made from raw crystal—not ordinary gemstones, but those harvested from the unique trees surrounding the town, their bark a mixture of deep purples, luminous greens, and fiery reds.

The lumberjacks, muscular and calloused, swung their runed axes into these arcane trees, splitting them open to reveal gleaming, embedded crystals.

One lumberjack wiped the sweat from his brow, holding up a jagged chunk of azure-blue crystal, its edges pulsing faintly with inner energy.

"Stormglass," he muttered, admiring the way the sun refracted through it. "Perfect for lightning-based artifacts."

Another man heaved a chunk of deep crimson crystal, the glow inside resembling embers of a dying fire.

"Bloodstone," he said. "Damn thing's hard to forge, but you set it in the right blade, and it'll drink the life from whatever it cuts."

Beside him, a younger worker pulled a shard of obsidian-black crystal, its edges almost fluid, shifting like liquid shadow.

"Nightcry," he whispered in awe. "That's gotta be worth a fortune."

Kaelis listened as they worked, taking it in without speaking—this was their life. This was what mattered in Othvendell.

Everything had purpose here.

Even in the open fields beyond the town's main road, warriors were testing their strength, engaging in brutal sparring matches—not for sport, but to improve, to survive.

A beast-kin woman with curved ram-like horns wrestled a man twice her size, her hands locked around his wrist, her muscles tensing like coiled steel as she used her leverage to slam him into the dirt. Nearby, a trio of young fighters—hardly more than teens—took turns exchanging blows, their hands wrapped in cloth, their knuckles already bruised.

Kaelis saw no children playing. It makes sense, as this is a town in Vjosgard; Othvendell was a place where worth was proven, where idleness was an insult, where everything—strength, labor, resilience—meant something.

And through it all, Nyxa played her harp, her expression serene, as if she was untouched by the world around her.

Kaelis watched her.

Studied her.

Her robe drifted weightlessly, as if the wind carried it even when the air was still. The hood covered most of her face, but what little he could see was unsettling in its calmness. She wasn't like the healers he had seen before—those whose kindness had a human warmth to it.

'This Nyxa.. feels otherworldly, like something that didn't fully belong to this plane.'

Yet, despite himself, he could feel the pull of her presence.

It was peaceful, and that disturbed him.

'Why does she feel like this? What is she?'

His mind churned with questions, analyzing her every movement, his inner thoughts unraveling a thousand theories—

Until she spoke.

"You've been watching me for a while," she said, her voice like a whisper carried on the wind.

Kaelis flinched, his monologue cut short.

Nyxa smiled, never stopping her playing. "Do you know the meaning behind the harp?"

Kaelis blinked. "…No."

She let out a soft hum, her fingers continuing to move across the strings.

"Music is more than sound," she said. "It is a binding force. A piece of history woven into melody. It exists in every culture, across every continent, even among those who share no common tongue. It has been used to summon rain, to send warriors into battle, to calm the dying, to remind the living that they are not alone."

Her harp echoed against the open sky, the notes feeling almost alive, each one leaving behind an invisible thread that wove through the very air around them.

"To play an instrument is not simply to make sound. It is to remember. It is to speak to the past and carry it forward." She turned her head slightly, her half-hidden face illuminated by the three suns above them.

"That is why gods, demons, and men alike have feared it."

Kaelis frowned. "What do you mean?"

Nyxa's smile didn't fade. "Because music does not die. You can kill a man, burn a city, erase a bloodline—but you cannot erase a song once it has been sung."

She let the next note ring long and slow, the weight of it settling in the air.

"And that is why it is sacred."

Kaelis had no words.

She continued playing.

Then, just as the wind shifted, she stopped.

They stood now in the far outskirts of the town, where no other souls were nearby.

And for the first time, her expression changed.

The smile remained, but there was something beneath it now.

Something sharper.

She turned to him fully, the light catching just enough of her hidden features, and in a voice just as calm as before, she said:

"The King of Hell resides in you, Kaelis."

Kaelis' stomach dropped.

"The last foe to fall in the war between gods and demons," Nyxa continued, her voice never wavering.

Then, with the same gentle ease she had spoken every word prior, she asked:

"Do you want to kill him?"

Kaelis gasped, his body stiffening as his breath caught in his throat.

His heart pounded violently, his fingers twitching as he slowly turned his head toward her.

Nyxa was still smiling.

The wind shifted again.

And for the first time in a long time—

Kaelis felt true fear.

"Kill him…?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.