Grand hall weddings were always alive with the sound of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. The troupe of friend found themselves only a few weeks later at the nearby village of River's End. Here had been the birthplace of ritualistic weddings on the whole. Azrath stood at the edge of the hall, his eyes narrowed in a mix of suspicion and distaste as he surveyed the sea of humans and their bizarre celebration. He had never understood why people chose to celebrate such fleeting things as *love* and *union*. To him, such ties were temporary, and death always loomed, just waiting to break the bonds that the living fought so hard to maintain.
But there he was, nevertheless, standing at a wedding—a farce in his eyes, a strange yet fascinating spectacle. And, of course, he was there because Potabeau had dragged him into yet another “adventure,” this time involving Lilac and Autumn, two women who, despite their charm and wit, also had a knack for getting him into situations he found deeply uncomfortable.
“Azrath, you’re brooding again,” Potabeau said, his voice a teasing drawl. “Don’t worry, I’m sure no one will make you catch the bouquet. You’re safe from that fate.”
Azrath glanced at his companion, who was wearing a devilish grin. Potabeau was already two steps ahead, fully enjoying the festivities, a glass of wine in his hand and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. The rogue was always at ease in places like this, reveling in chaos and noise, while Azrath felt like an alien in a world of joy and frivolity.
“I don’t understand how you find this... enjoyable,” Azrath muttered, staring at the couples on the dance floor, twirling around in their ill-fitting formalwear. “The whole thing is absurd. Love is fleeting. It is temporary. And in the end, death comes for everyone, even the most celebrated unions.”
Potabeau snorted. “And yet, here you are—at a wedding, of all places—letting love ruin your existential dread. You can’t keep denying that people—no matter how foolish they may seem—find value in these fleeting moments. You’re starting to look like a guy who’s just waiting to be the grumpy uncle at the next family gathering.”
Azrath shot him a glare. "I am not grumpy. I simply have a… *realistic* view of the world."
Lilac, who had been listening in with a smirk, chimed in. “He’s right, you know. This whole 'wedding thing' is a bit ridiculous, but it’s… kind of charming. There’s something about the chaos of it all that makes life feel, well, alive.”
Autumn, standing beside Lilac, nodded with a grin. “Love, joy, laughter—it’s messy. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s all the things that make us human.” She turned her gaze to Azrath, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You should try it sometime, Azrath. You might even find something worth laughing at.”
Azrath gave a huff, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not here to participate in your *chaos,* Autumn. I’m here because…”
Potabeau put an arm around Azrath’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake. “Of course! We know you lost the bet, but there are things to learn! Like dancing.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Azrath froze at the mention of dancing. The idea was deeply unsettling. He could raise armies of undead or summon spirits from beyond the grave, but dancing? That was a level of humiliation Azrath would rather avoid.
“Absolutely not,” Azrath said firmly, backing away from Potabeau. “I will not be dancing. You can’t make me.”
Lilac’s grin widened. “Oh, I think we can. We’ve already made you attend this fun little wedding. What’s the harm in one little dance?”
“No,” Azrath said again, more resolute this time.
Autumn leaned in, her voice smooth and coaxing. “It’s not about the dance, Azrath. It’s about joining in. Sometimes the best way to understand life is to stop hiding from it. Come on, just a little twirl. It’ll make you feel alive, I promise.”
Azrath looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “I don’t need to feel alive. I’m perfectly content—”
“—with your books and your dark rituals,” Potabeau finished for him with a grin. “We know, Azrath. But trust me, you’ll be glad you joined in. If only to stop me from telling everyone at this wedding that you might be a little afraid of dancing.”
Azrath shot Potabeau a glare that could’ve frozen the rogue in his tracks, but he knew better than to threaten a friendly curse. Potabeau had a talent for making every situation more entertaining; this was the glory of youth that he already foresaw fleeting before his merry group.
Lilac raised an eyebrow. “You know, if we’re going to put you in the spotlight, it’d be much better if you had a partner, wouldn’t it?”
Azrath sighed deeply. “I’m not going to—”
“We’ll make it easy on you,” Lilac interrupted with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Autumn will be your partner.”
Before Azrath could protest, Autumn’s hand shot out, catching his wrist with surprising speed and pulling him toward the dance floor. “I’m going to take good care of you, Azrath. Just follow my lead.”
Azrath’s heart sank. There was no escaping now. The music was swelling, the crowd parting as the first few couples began to twirl across the floor. He had no choice but to stand awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor, his arms stiff at his sides, feeling utterly out of place.
Azrath glanced around, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. His face was a picture of concentration as he attempted, poorly, to mirror Autumn’s steps. She twirled around him with an effortless grace, while Azrath’s attempts to mimic her only seemed to highlight his awkwardness.
“Well,” Potabeau mentioned to Lilac from the side, sipping his wine. “This is quite the sight. Who knew Azrath could be this much fun?”
Azrath shot Potabeau a glare, but Autumn just laughed, clearly enjoying the challenge of guiding him. “Relax, Azrath. You don’t have to be perfect. Just move, and try not to look like you’re being attacked by an invisible horde of zombies.”
Azrath gritted his teeth. “I am not here to be your entertainment.”
But the music swirled around him, and slowly, against his better judgment, he began to loosen up—just a little. It was a strange sensation, standing there, moving in sync with someone else. The world wasn’t as cold as it had been. The clinking of glasses and the soft laughter from the crowd were not as distant as they once seemed.
Autumn’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder as she guided him through another slow turn. “There you go. You’re not so bad at this. Who knew the great Azrath could be a dancer?”
Azrath opened his mouth to protest but was caught off guard when she spun him in a wide arc, forcing him to regain his balance.
“Alright,” Azrath muttered, giving in. “Maybe this isn’t the worst thing I’ve done.”
Potabeau, standing on the sidelines with Lilac, raised his glass in mock salute. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the most awkward but strangely dignified dancer in the room!”
Azrath’s cheeks flushed, but there was no denying the feeling. A part of him—a small, treacherous part—didn't mind it. He wasn’t dead, after all. And for the first time that evening, he felt the heartbeat of the living world. The music, the laughter, the joy—these things, as fleeting as they were, were part of life. And even if he despised the way it all ended, there was something...remarkably human about it.
Autumn grinned. “Look at that. The necromancer’s finally living.”
Azrath looked at her, then back at Potabeau, who was grinning like an idiot. For a moment, just a brief moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the strange warmth that swirled in his chest. But only for a moment. After all, he wasn’t here to live—he was here to study, to grow. But as the music swelled and the people around him cheered, Azrath couldn't help but admit... *maybe* there was something worth studying in all of this chaos.
“I’ll get you back for this,” he muttered to Potabeau.
“Of course you will,” Potabeau grinned. “But for now, you’re officially part of the living world, Azrath. Embrace it.”
And for one brief moment, Azrath almost did.
