The next morning, sunlight fought its way through the black curtains, revealing a pale dawn. Lyria stirred in the massive bed, momentarily forgetting where she was — until the heavy silk ropes binding her wrists reminded her.
Kaelith had left her tied up even as she slept, a possessive gesture that left Lyria both furious and… something far more dangerous.
She pulled against the silken knots, testing them. No give. No escape.
A moment later the door opened, and Kaelith entered like a storm cloaked in midnight, her expression cold, her hair wild around her face.
"You look restless," Kaelith observed, moving closer until her presence suffocated the air.
Lyria's jaw tightened. "Set me free."
Kaelith chuckled low in her throat, leaning down until they were eye to eye. "Free? You belong to me now."
Lyria spat the words out, trembling. "I will never belong to you."
Kaelith tilted her head, studying her like a puzzle she could not solve. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she untied the ropes.
Lyria's arms throbbed as the circulation returned, and she shrank back from the witch's touch.
Kaelith straightened, folding her arms, crimson eyes narrowed. "You are stronger than I expected. But don't mistake that for freedom."
Lyria rubbed her wrists, glaring. "Why do you do this? Why keep me here? I am nothing to you."
Kaelith's gaze darkened, a flash of something raw in her eyes. "Nothing?" she echoed. "You are everything I have searched for. A light powerful enough to purify even me."
Lyria froze. Purify?
"You think you can be redeemed?" she asked, incredulous.
Kaelith laughed, but it sounded broken. "No. But I can steal enough of your light to keep the darkness from consuming me."
Lyria shook her head. "I will never willingly give you my gift."
Kaelith's smile turned feral. "Then I will teach you to want to."
---
Lyria was marched from the tower to a massive underground ritual chamber. The walls pulsed with dark runes, their glow enough to make her dizzy.
Kaelith stood before an obsidian altar, eyes bright with hunger and something disturbingly close to hope.
"Lie down," she commanded.
Lyria refused. "No."
Kaelith's magic surged, ropes of shadow yanking Lyria forward until she crashed against the cold stone.
"Do not test me, healer," Kaelith growled, voice rough with desire and rage tangled together.
Lyria swallowed hard, chest heaving. "What will you do to me?"
Kaelith approached, hands trailing over Lyria's skin, tracing her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. "I will teach you," she whispered. "What it means to belong to me."
Heat pooled low in Lyria's belly, shameful and unwanted. She hated how Kaelith's voice wrapped around her mind like silk, unraveling her resistance.
"You think you can control me with pleasure," Lyria spat, breathing uneven.
Kaelith smiled, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "Yes."
And then her lips were on Lyria's, bruising, demanding, stealing every last rational thought. Lyria gasped, trying to push her away, but Kaelith's hands pinned her wrists above her head, magic chains binding her again.
"Kaelith—"
"Shh," Kaelith murmured against her lips. "Feel."
Their mouths met again, deeper, hotter. Lyria felt the last of her walls crack, something wild and terrifying breaking free inside her.
Kaelith pulled back only when they were both breathless, eyes blazing with a hunger that was almost painful.
"Your magic responds to mine," Kaelith said, voice raw. "Do you feel it?"
Lyria shook her head, but the lie was too obvious. Her light had started to glow under her skin, reacting to the witch's darkness.
Kaelith smiled, triumphant. "You cannot deny me forever."
---
Hours blurred as Kaelith forced her to practice.
Again and again, she demanded Lyria release her healing energy, but only when Kaelith touched her. The combination of the witch's dark power and Lyria's light created storms of magic that lit up the runes on the walls.
Lyria collapsed more than once, body shaking, drained beyond words. But Kaelith was always there, catching her, holding her up, whispering dark promises in her ear.
By the time the ritual ended, Lyria was limp in Kaelith's arms, barely conscious.
Kaelith carried her back to the tower, laying her gently on the bed as if she were something precious.
"Why do you keep… touching me like this?" Lyria rasped.
Kaelith hesitated, a rare vulnerability cracking through her perfect mask.
"Because," she whispered, brushing Lyria's cheek, "I do not know how to be gentle… with something I want."
Lyria's chest twisted painfully, tears stinging her eyes.
"I hate you," she whispered.
Kaelith's answering smile was heartbreakingly sad. "I know."
---
That night, Kaelith left her untied. Lyria lay awake, staring at the canopy, free for the first time in days.
Every muscle in her body screamed to run, to escape, but her mind… her mind was trapped.
She could still taste Kaelith's kisses on her lips, feel her hands burning on her skin.
And worse — she missed them.
Tears slid down her cheeks.
I will not break, she vowed again.
But part of her knew she already had.
---
A faint creak at the door startled her, and she sat up.
Kaelith stood there, silhouetted against the candlelight, a shadow in human shape.
"I left you untied tonight," she said softly. "If you wish to flee, you may try."
Lyria's heart pounded. A test.
"Why?" she demanded.
Kaelith stepped closer, expression unreadable. "Because if you stay," she murmured, "then I will know your heart is beginning to choose me."
Lyria's mind spun, torn in a thousand directions.
Kaelith approached the bed, leaning down until their lips nearly met.
"Sleep well, healer," she whispered, a softness in her tone that cut deeper than cruelty ever could. "Tomorrow, you will be mine completely."
And she left, leaving the door unlocked.
Lyria's hands shook as she gripped the blankets, fighting the war inside herself.
Was she a prisoner — or a willing captive now?