Chapter Two – The Cursed King
Aria awoke to the sound of rain.
It wasn't the soft patter she was used to, but a heavy, rhythmic downpour that echoed off stone. She opened her eyes slowly, her body aching, her mind reeling from the madness of the night before.
She wasn't on the bridge.
She wasn't even outside.
She was lying on a grand bed draped in dark silks, the sheets so soft they felt like clouds against her skin. The room was vast, lit only by the flicker of candles. Shadows danced along the high stone walls, and the scent of something smoky—like burning cedar—hung in the air.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
"Where am I?"
"You're awake."
She jerked her head toward the voice.
He was there. The man from the meadow. The one with the glowing eyes.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Even without his sword, he radiated danger. His silver hair fell into his sharp, pale face, and his gaze—those strange molten eyes—watched her like a hawk.
Aria's breath caught.
"You—You brought me here?"
"You would be dead if I hadn't." His tone was flat, as if it were simply a fact. "The shadows would have devoured you within seconds."
"The shadows?" She pushed herself upright, clutching the sheet around her. "You mean those… those things that were chasing us?"
"They're called Nightborn," he said. "Creatures of pure darkness. They hunt anything warm-blooded. Especially humans."
Aria swallowed hard. "Humans? You mean… you're not—"
"No," he interrupted, his lips curving into something between a smirk and a sneer. "I am not human."
She stared at him, trying to find the words. Every instinct screamed that she should be terrified of him. But there was something about his voice—low and deep, with a strange, almost broken weight—that made her hesitate.
"What are you?" she asked finally.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked closer, the sound of his boots echoing on the stone floor. He moved like a predator—calm, unhurried, and confident.
When he stopped just a few feet away, he tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing.
"What's your name?"
"Aria," she said before she could stop herself.
His lips parted slightly. "Aria…" He repeated her name as if tasting it, rolling the sound over his tongue like it was something sacred—or dangerous.
Her cheeks warmed under his intense gaze. She hated that.
"Now you tell me who you are," she demanded, trying to sound braver than she felt.
The faintest shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. "I am Kael," he said, his voice dropping lower. "The last king of this forsaken realm. Though most here call me the Cursed King."
Aria's fingers tightened around the sheet. "Cursed…? Why?"
Kael's expression hardened, and for a moment, something dark flickered across his face—pain, rage, regret.
"That's none of your concern."
Aria's frustration flared. "None of my concern? I don't even know how I got here! One second I was on a bridge, and the next—"
"The blood moon," Kael interrupted. His eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "It chose you."
"Chose me?" Aria stared at him. "What does that even mean? I don't want to be here! I want to go home!"
Kael's jaw tightened. He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over her. "There is no way home," he said quietly, almost cruelly. "Once the blood moon calls someone across the veil, they are bound to this realm. Until fate releases them."
Her breath caught. "You're lying."
"Am I?" he asked, his voice soft but cutting.
Aria's chest tightened, her throat burning. She couldn't let herself cry—not in front of him. Not when he looked at her like that, like he was waiting for her to break.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
Kael's gaze lingered on her face for a moment too long. Then, almost reluctantly, he looked away. "Nothing," he said. "Except for you to stay alive."
---
For the next few minutes, silence filled the room.
Kael moved to the window, pulling back a heavy curtain. Beyond the glass was a world unlike anything Aria had ever seen—twisted forests of black trees, silver rivers that glowed faintly in the dark, and a blood-red moon hanging low over jagged mountains.
"This is the realm of Tharos," he said quietly, as though reading her thoughts. "Once, it was a place of light. But the curse…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
Aria hesitated. "The curse is… on you?"
Kael turned, his expression unreadable. "Yes. And anyone who comes near me."
Her breath hitched. "So I'm… cursed too?"
His silence was answer enough.
---
A loud knock broke the tension.
Kael didn't move. "Enter," he said.
The door opened, and a young woman with dark hair and sharp eyes stepped in. She wore armor, her presence radiating authority. She looked at Aria, then at Kael, suspicion clear on her face.
"She's awake," the woman said. "Should I—"
"No," Kael said firmly. "She stays here. No harm is to come to her."
The woman frowned but nodded. "As you wish, my king."
My king? Aria blinked.
The woman left, and Kael's gaze returned to her.
"You will rest," he said, his tone final. "The shadows will come again at nightfall. Until then, you stay here. Do not leave this room."
Aria swallowed hard. "And if I do?"
A dark, dangerous smile curved his lips. "Then I'll have to save you. Again."
---
Aria lay back against the pillows as Kael left, the heavy door closing behind him. Her heart still pounded.
Who was this man? What was this place? And why did she feel, deep in her bones, like this wasn't the first time she'd met him?