Astia struggled against the unseen force guiding her, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She wanted to stop, to call out, but her voice was trapped in her throat, and her movements remained rigid and unyielding. It felt as if her body no longer belonged to her.

Iliran was the first to notice her approach. His smile softened, and he stepped forward to greet her. In a warm, welcoming tone, he said, “Astia...”

But she didn’t respond. Her body continued its unyielding march, her eyes fixated on Iliran with difficulty. The smile faded from his face, replaced by confusion as he reached out a hand, as if to stop her. Yet, his hand hovered uncertainly in the air before dropping back to his side.

Within her mind, Astia screamed. She forced herself to speak, to explain, to break free from the invisible chains that bound her. Yet nothing worked. She remained a mere passenger in her own body, powerless to halt her steps into the unknown.

Astia was led involuntarily to the center of the hall, her feet moving of their own accord, as though compelled by some unseen force. She tried to wriggle her fingers, but the strange, unidentifiable energy still wrapped around her like a shroud. It entwined her with tendrils of shadow, holding her captive. She found herself ensnared in a stillness, as if time and space had halted around her.

With great effort, Astia lifted her head. Her eyes locked onto the second floor of the hall, where a figure draped in a black cloak stood. The entire figure was shrouded in shadows, seemingly a part of the darkness itself. The face remained hidden beneath the cloak, but two glowing golden eyes shone brightly from the depths, like mysterious flames flickering in the dark. The gaze of those eyes was cold and unforgiving, revealing an underlying chill and malevolence that sent shivers through Astia’s soul. An unsettling familiarity surged within her, yet her mind felt paralyzed, incapable of recognizing this feeling. It was as though the golden eyes evoked a long-forgotten memory, but the darkness of her mind obscured it entirely.

Suddenly, her body broke free as if a binding rope had snapped. All the weight she had been carrying lifted from her shoulders, but before she could even fully comprehend her newfound freedom, a magical arrow was hurled toward her by the cloaked figure. The silvery gleam of the arrow pierced the air with terrifying speed, causing her heart to plummet. There was no escape; the projectile approached so rapidly and mercilessly that it felt as though a predetermined fate awaited her.

However, just as the arrow neared Astia, magical shadows encircled her in a sudden blaze of fury and powerful energy. A dark armor formed around her, and the arrow struck the shadowy barrier with a resounding crack, shattering into two pieces. The silver shards clattered onto the polished floor of the hall, creating a heavy silence that enveloped the space.

The shadows began to dissipate around Astia. Still in shock, she managed to focus her gaze on the scene before her. The cloaked figure had vanished as if they had never existed. All that remained was the broken arrow that lay on the ground, right at her feet, its cold, deadly gleam still sending shivers through her heart.

Now, the entire crowd had their eyes fixed on Astia. Whispers filled with fear and astonishment began to ripple among the gathered guests. Soft murmurs floated through the air, each one attempting to grasp the extraordinary situation, but none could fully understand the implications of what had just occurred. Arks, who had always despised displaying his power, had this time revealed a force he wished to remain hidden—but this time, it was to protect Astia.

The crowd surrounding Astia reacted in a myriad of ways. Some stared at her in fear and concern, as if anticipating something even more dangerous to happen. Others cast disparaging glances at the girl standing at the center of the hall, murmuring and whispering under their breaths. The air was thick with chilling whispers, laced with uncertainty. But then, suddenly, Ryan burst into the scene.

Ryan strode in with swift, decisive steps. His face was marked by worry and anger, yet his gaze was filled with a resolute determination that left no room for question or dissent. He moved directly toward Astia, standing before her and observing her closely. The anxiety and doubt in his eyes were unmistakable. In a calm yet slightly uncertain tone, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Astia, still in shock, found herself unable to speak. She could only shake her head in disbelief. This was enough to make Ryan take a deep breath, allowing a fraction of his worries to ease. Yet, his expression remained taut and concerned. He quickly turned his attention to the silver arrow that lay on the ground.

The two broken pieces of the arrow glinted ominously, still commanding attention against the hall's polished floor. Ryan carefully picked them up, examining them closely. The hellish silver used to forge the arrow carried a clear message: it was designed specifically to kill angels or half-angels. He understood that this arrow’s intention went beyond mere intimidation or threat. It was meant to strike precisely at the core of Astia’s energy, aiming to obliterate her existence as a half-angel.

Ryan’s gaze returned to Astia, and he felt a growing awareness that this mysterious attack not only aimed to take her life but sought consequences that would extend far beyond this moment and the ceremony itself. A nameless yet palpable fear surged within him; whoever had launched this arrow knew exactly what they were doing, and their aim was unambiguous—the total destruction of Astia.