My Mother Forced Me to Marry a Stone Statue to End a War — On Our Wedding Night, I Felt My Dead Fiancée's Heartbeat Inside the Marble
Gideon led me back through the winding, damp passages of the crypt, his voice hushed but urgent. He spoke of ancient alchemical texts, of lost formulas, of the immense power required to undo such a binding.
“The reversal is not a simple spell, Your Majesty,” Gideon explained, his voice echoing softly. “It is a transaction. A balance. The alchemical resin, designed by the House of Veridia’s royal alchemists centuries ago, absorbs the very essence of the life it preserves. To release it, you must offer an equal, or greater, sacrifice.”
He paused, his gaze fixed on my face. “The texts speak of a specific catalyst: a rare solvent, derived from the roots of the sun-drenched desert bloom, combined with the true sovereign’s official seal of total abdication. Not merely stepping down, Your Majesty, but a complete, undeniable surrender of the throne, the crown, and all royal authority. Forever.”
My breath caught. Abdication. Everything I was, everything I had been born to.
“Is that all?” I asked, a strange calm settling over me. The crown had felt like a lead weight for three years, a symbol of my failure and grief.
Gideon shook his head. “No. The power of the resin is immense. The final component, the ‘cost of blood and gold,’ is the forfeiture of the entire royal treasury. All fifty thousand gold sovereigns. It must be surrendered to the realm, to be used for the immediate welfare of the people, not held by any single ruler or family.”
Fifty thousand gold sovereigns. The entire wealth of the kingdom, built over generations. My mother’s obsession, her reason for every cruel decision.
“It activates the catalyst,” Gideon clarified, sensing my thoughts. “It is meant to dissolve the resin from the inside out, weakening the bonds that hold her. The sovereign’s seal of abdication acts as the key, unlocking the binding, and the treasury acts as the pure energy, the alchemical fuel, to complete the reversal. Without both, the resin will not yield.”
A profound silence descended upon us, broken only by the drip of water from the crypt’s ceiling. The choice was stark, absolute. My kingdom, my power, my birthright—or Clara’s life.
My decision was instantaneous. There was no hesitation, no flicker of doubt. The crown had been a burden, a reminder of the mother who had destroyed my life. Clara was my life.
“I will do it,” I said, my voice firm, resolute. “I will sign away everything. The throne, the crown, every coin in the treasury. All of it.”
Gideon looked at me, a mixture of awe and relief on his face. “Are you certain, Your Majesty? This is not merely a political maneuver. It means you will be King no longer. You will be a common man, without title, without wealth. The Montgomery line will end with you.”
“I am certain,” I affirmed, pulling the signet ring from my finger. It felt light, insignificant, compared to the warmth of Clara’s faintest heartbeat. “This crown has brought nothing but sorrow and deception. Clara is my true kingdom.”
“The documents must be drawn up formally,” Gideon explained, his mind already racing with the logistics. “Witnessed, notarized, and presented at the moment of application. The alchemy itself is simple once the catalyst is prepared. It requires applying the solvent to the statue’s chest, then pressing the sovereign’s abdication seal directly onto the dissolving stone.”
“Then we prepare,” I declared, my resolve hardening into steel. “We have less than forty-eight hours. My mother will not see me abdicate willingly. We will need a plan.”
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