Chapter 13: A Festival of Fools and Forbidden Feelings
The Spring Festival of Starcross Hollow was a raucous affair—a weeklong celebration of renewal, illusion magic, and poorly made pies. Villagers and magical folk alike poured into the meadow, their faces painted in glowing runes and laughter, their clothes stitched with charms of revelry and reckless courage.
Maribel had never seen anything like it.
Banners danced on the wind, enchanted instruments played themselves while drunk fairies sang along, and fire-breathing goats pranced across the central stage like divas. In one corner, a banshee-led string quartet played love songs that made grown warriors weep. In another, a trio of illusionists turned invisible mid-card trick and ran off with their own wallets.
Lucien hated it.
"This entire place smells like pickled joy and terrible decisions," he grumbled, eyeing a gelatinous cube that had been enchanted to sing opera.
Maribel grinned. "You need to loosen up. This is what normal people call 'fun.'"
"I am undead-adjacent," he replied. "Fun for me is reorganizing bone collections and sarcastic banter."
"Then it's a good thing I brought both," she said, tugging him into the crowd.
They moved together through the chaos—her laughing and glowing with the joy of it all, him brooding with the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he liked seeing her like this: unburdened, alive, beautiful in the flickering lights of floating lanterns.
It was the first time in weeks they felt like a real couple. No prophecies. No daggers of sarcasm. No undead fathers. Just them.
They played enchanted darts—Lucien cheated with telekinesis and still lost. They entered a magical disguise contest—Maribel turned him into a grumpy duck. He retaliated by illusioning her into a glittery mushroom. They were both disqualified for "weaponized adorableness."
But the festival wasn't all harmless chaos.
As the sun dipped below the hills and twilight turned the sky to a velvety lavender, a hush settled over the meadow. The stage, which had earlier hosted cursed comedians and interpretive worm-dancers, now pulsed with ancient magic.
A horn sounded.
The Trial of the Bonded Hearts had begun.
Maribel blinked. "Wait, the what?"
"It's an old Starcross Hollow tradition," said a nearby elf wearing a vest made of enchanted feathers. "Couples compete to prove their compatibility through magically bound trials. Complete all three and you're blessed with eternal fortune in love."
"Or doomed if you fake it," added a satyr.
Lucien paled. "Let's not."
But Maribel's eyes were gleaming. "Too late. I just signed us up."
"What?"
She kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. You're charming when you're terrified."
Lucien muttered something about regretting all his life choices as the crowd drew in and an ancient druid in a tutu hobbled onto the stage.
"Lovers and liars!" the druid cackled. "Welcome to the Trial! You'll face three tasks: Trust, Truth, and Temptation! Survive, and the blessing of Starcross will follow you for life! Fail, and—well, probably a minor curse. Or chronic emotional instability. Depends on the moon."
Lucien groaned.
Maribel squeezed his hand. "We've survived worse."
He looked at her. Really looked.
And smiled.
"Let's do this."
Trial One: Trust
They were blindfolded, bound by a magical ribbon, and dropped into a hedge maze filled with misdirection spells and mildly passive-aggressive garden gnomes.
"Left!" Maribel shouted.
Lucien turned right.
They smacked into a wall of mist that turned his boots into squeaky-toy versions.
"Trust me!" she said, laughing.
"I'm trying!" he replied, flailing.
Eventually, they learned to listen. Really listen. Her voice became his compass. His silence became her calm.
Together, they found the exit—and shared their first true laugh in days.
Trial Two: Truth
They were sat in front of the crowd, back to back, holding enchanted roses.
One question each.
Answer honestly, or the rose withers.
Lucien's voice came first, quiet but firm.
"Have you ever doubted us?"
Maribel closed her eyes.
"Yes," she said. "But only because I want this so badly, it scares me."
Her rose bloomed gold.
Maribel spoke next.
"If you had to choose between saving the world... or saving me—what would you do?"
A pause.
Lucien whispered, "I'd find a way to do both. Or burn down whatever gods said I couldn't."
His rose burst into flame, then reformed into a glowing red lily.
The crowd cheered.
They didn't care.
They were lost in each other.
Trial Three: Temptation
This one was harder.
The final challenge showed them their deepest desires—each standing in front of an illusion of their "perfect" life.
Maribel stood in a vast magical academy, crowned arch-enchantress, adored and powerful. No wars. No fears. No forbidden romance. Just peace.
Lucien saw himself crowned Lich King, sovereign of a peaceful undead realm, Maribel nowhere in sight—safe from him, happy with someone less... cursed.
Both illusions whispered sweet lies.
Both hesitated.
But in the end, they walked away.
Together.
They didn't even wait for the druid's blessing. As soon as the trial ended, they fled the stage, laughing, drunk on adrenaline and magic and something deeper.
Love.
Real, complicated, utterly ridiculous love.
They collapsed near the edge of the meadow, the stars above them swirling like a painter's fever dream. Music drifted in the distance. Fireflies danced around them.
Lucien reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
Not flashy. Not cursed. Just a simple band, carved with protective runes and a tiny etched flame.
"I know this isn't the right moment," he said.
Maribel sat up, eyes wide.
"But I want a thousand wrong moments with you," he continued. "Messy, awkward, spell-shattering moments. I want to be stupid in love and smart in battle and the guy who makes you laugh when the world burns. So…"
He swallowed.
"Will you be my partner? In crime, magic, and probably very ill-advised quests?"
Maribel didn't speak.
She tackled him with a kiss.
And whispered, "Always."