Raised From The Wild-Chapter 453: A Walk Toward The Future

Two years later.

Morning light spilled through the tall palace windows, turning the bridal chamber into a soft glow of gold and ivory. Outside, distant bells rang across the city, their sound drifting upward like a blessing.

Princess Consort Nelida stood behind Amaya, carefully arranging the final folds of her wedding veil.

The delicate fabric cascaded down Amaya’s back like falling mist, its fine embroidery catching the light with every small movement.

Behind them, the entire royal family waited patiently, gathered near the chamber doors like a quiet procession before a great moment.

King Duncan stood with his hands clasped before him, his usually stern face softened by a proud smile. Beside him, Queen Lucinda dabbed the corner of her eye with a lace handkerchief, though she tried very hard to pretend she wasn’t emotional.

The years had etched lines into their faces, but today those lines were filled with joy.

Crown Prince Ibarra stood nearby with his children clustered around him like restless sparrows.

Prince Donello adjusted the collar of his ceremonial coat for the fifth time.

Princess Danella was whispering something that made Prince Yohan snort with laughter.

The other princesses, Camilla and Riyana, clutched flower bracelets on their wrists, barely containing their excitement for the procession to begin.

The entire room carried that fragile, electric stillness that exists just before a wedding begins.

Nelida gently smoothed the final strand of Amaya’s hair beneath the veil.

"There," she said softly.

She stepped back to admire her work, her warm eyes shining.

"It is done."

For a moment she simply looked at Amaya, pride and affection softening her voice.

"You look so beautiful, Amaya." Her words were gentle and sincere. devoid of her previous malice.

Amaya was truly lovable. Even her twins were won over by her. Who was she to continue to scheme against a niece who had no wishes but for her husband to become a wise and good ruler, and for Donello to succeed him as his heir?

Amaya had done so much for the kingdom and for her two children. She was pure and had long forgiven her and Ibarra’s sins.

Her hand rested briefly on Amaya’s shoulder.

"I’m certain your father and mother are smiling in heaven today."

Amaya met her gaze through the mirror.

A quiet warmth spread through her chest.

"Thank you, Aunt Nelida," she said softly. "I know they are."

Just then—

Her watch vibrated softly against her wrist.

"Aunt, you can go ahead. I’ll come out in a bit."

Nelida nodded, then gracefully exited the chamber.

Amaya glanced down.

A message had appeared. Not just any message. It was from a group chat that had been silent for two years.

Her heart skipped.

"Exzee," she said quietly.

"Read the message."

The AI responded instantly.

"Sis, congratulations on your wedding to Uncle Marx. Sorry we couldn’t attend today... but we’ll come visit soon."

A photograph appeared above the watch display.

Two children stared back at her.

A boy and a girl. Twins.

At first they looked unfamiliar, but then Amaya saw their eyes.

Bright. Curious. Alive with mischief.

Her breath caught. Ren and Ava.

Her fingers trembled slightly as another file opened.

A medical report from two years ago.

Successful separation of conjoined twins. Neural stabilization. Brain transplant. Cornea transplant.

Location: Usturia Medical Institute.

Outcome: Successful.

For a moment, the room disappeared.

The murmurs of the royal family faded.

The music outside softened into distant echoes.

Two years. Two years of heartache from the knowledge that two special people died in that rubble.

And now this.

They were alive, not in their physical form but in memories transplanted into another.

Amaya blinked quickly, refusing to let tears spill and ruin the careful work Nelida had done.

Still, a quiet smile touched her lips.

"They made it after all," she whispered as she finished reading Ren’s explanation.

The moment they died, the scientist from Usturia, now their father, took their bodies from the Arena, and placed them in a protective encasement before flying them out of Ra-iya.

The surgery took two days, and full recovery took two years.

...

Outside, the wedding music swelled.

The doors of the chamber slowly opened.

Sunlight spilled into the hallway like liquid gold.

Amaya took one last look at the photo of the twins before closing the screen.

Somewhere far away, two children had been given a second chance at life.

Just as she had.

She lifted her chin and stepped toward the open doors.

Beyond them waited Marx.

Beyond them waited the life they had fought so hard to reach.

And as Amaya walked toward the future, she found herself remembering the last words of a dying giant in a shattered arena.

You broke the chains.

A faint smile touched her lips as her family led her to the waiting carriage that would bring her to the church.

...

At the historic cathedral at the heart of Lireya’s capital, Marx tried very hard to stand still.

It wasn’t working.

The vaulted ceilings rose high above him, sunlight pouring through stained glass windows and scattering colors across the marble floor.

Nobles, dignitaries, and members of the royal court filled the pews, their murmurs echoing softly through the sacred hall.

Yet Marx heard none of it.

His hands flexed at his sides.

His heart pounded harder than it ever had in battle.

He had faced villains and monsters.

He had stood in an arena where death watched from every corner.

But nothing had ever made him this nervous.

At the far end of the aisle, the procession began.

The flower girls entered first, scattering petals that drifted like soft snow across the red carpet. Behind them came the bridesmaids, their dresses flowing as they walked with careful grace.

Marx barely noticed them.

His eyes searched past the procession—

until they found her.

At the great entrance of the cathedral stood a woman in white.

Amaya.

She stood there for a moment beneath the towering doors, sunlight framing her like a halo. Her veil drifted softly around her shoulders, and the quiet strength that had carried her through fire, blood, and loss now radiated from her like something almost regal.

Not a survivor. Not a fighter. A queen in every right.

Then the music rose.

The first solemn notes of the wedding march filled the cathedral.

And Amaya began to walk.

Each step was steady. Certain.

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as she moved down the long aisle toward him.

Marx felt the world narrow until nothing existed except the distance between them.

The two years of separation.

All the pain.

All the years that had tried to break them.

They had survived it all.

And now she was walking toward him.

His Aya. His wife. His future.

When she finally reached him, Marx let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

At last— she was home.

And in a few moments more,

she would be his bride.

--- The End ---