Page 2 of Demon Lord's Proposal

I laugh, a touch of nervousness creeping into my voice. "A rather strange fairy tale, I'd imagine."

Cora clicks her tongue disapprovingly. "Now, none of that. This is your weddin' day. You're marryin' the man you love, and that's worth celebratin'."

She's right, of course. I take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of my dress. "You're right. I'm ready."

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door. Cora opens it to reveal Joesiah's best man, a tall, imposing figure with a stern face and piercing eyes.

"It's time," he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the floorboards.

Cora turns to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You got this, sugar. Go get your happily ever after."

I nod, taking one last look in the mirror before following Joesiah's best man out into the hallway. The old plantation house creaks and groans around us, as if it too is preparing for the ceremony.

As we descend the grand staircase, I can hear the murmur of voices from the ballroom below. The scent of magnolias and decay hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of the strange duality of this world; beauty and rot existing side by side.

We pause outside the closed ballroom doors. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, a rhythm that seems to echo the weight of my secret.

"Are you ready?" Joesiah's best man asks, his gaze fixed on me.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "I am."

He nods, then pushes open the doors. The murmur of conversation dies away as all eyes turn towards me. The ballroom is a sight to behold–candles flicker in ornate holders, casting a warm light over the assembled guests.

And there, at the end of the aisle, stands Joesiah. He's resplendent in a suit of deepest black, his dark hair swept back from his forehead.

As I begin my walk down the aisle, I can't help but wonder: If he knew the truth about me, would he still look at me that way? Or would those loving eyes turn cold with fear and betrayal?

The guests watch my progress, their expressions a mix of joy and curiosity. I recognize some faces–friends I've made since moving to this town, clients who swear by my remedies, even a few who've whispered suspicions about the true nature of my concoctions.

The officiant, a tall, austere man in flowing robes, raises his hands for silence. As he begins to speak. The officiant, a tall, skeletal figure in flowing robes, raises his hands for silence. But as the ceremony progresses, a strange unease begins to creep over me. The candles seem to flicker more erratically, and the shadows in the corners of the room appear to grow deeper, more menacing.

Joesiah begins his vows, his voice strong and clear. "Sage, from the moment I met you, I knew you were special. Your brilliance, your compassion, your strength–they've captivated me from the start. I promise to stand by your side through whatever challenges we may face, to support your dreams and share in your joys. I love you, all of you, including–"

He pauses, and in that moment, I feel a chill run down my spine. Something's wrong. The room has gone deathly quiet, the air thick with tension.

Joesiah's grip on my hands tightens, almost painfully. When he speaks again, his voice has changed, become harder, colder. "Including your hexeblood heritage."

A collective gasp runs through the crowd. I feel my blood run cold, my mind reeling in confusion and growing horror.

"W-what?" I stammer, trying to pull my hands away, but Joesiah's grip is like iron.

His eyes, once warm and loving, now burn with a terrible, righteous fury. "Did you think you could hide it forever, Sage? Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

The room erupts into chaos. Guests recoil in fear and disgust, their whispers growing into a roar of condemnation. I see Cora pushing through the crowd, her face a mask of shock and concern.

"Joesiah, please," I beg, my voice barely audible over the growing tumult. "I can explain–"

But there's no chance for an explanation. The doors burst open, and men from our church storm in.

"Seize the witch!" their captain bellows, pointing directly at me.

As rough hands grab me, pulling me away from Joesiah, I can't help but wonder: How did it all go so wrong? And more importantly, what happens now?

The world spins around me, a blur of accusation and betrayal. As I'm dragged towards the doors, I catch one last glimpse of Joesiah. His face is set in stone, eyes cold and unforgiving. In that moment, I realize that the love we shared, the future we planned – it was all built on a foundation of lies.

The ballroom erupts into pandemonium. Guests shriek and scramble away from me as if I'm carrying some contagious disease. Their faces, once smiling and congratulatory, now contort with fear and disgust. I catch glimpses of former friends backing away, hands raised as if to ward off evil.

"Please, listen to me!" I cry out, my voice barely audible over the chaos. "This isn't what you think!"

---