Aurelia moved through the maze like a ghost driven by dread, Kaelen a silent, reluctant shadow at her back. Every rustle, every shift of light, made her heart seize.
Then she saw it.
A maiden—or what was left of her—torn cleanly in two. The green undergrowth was painted in violent crimson, the air thick with the smell of fresh iron and ruptured organs. Aurelia's flesh seemed to crawl away from the sight. Her mind screamed one name: Sorana.
Trembling, she forced herself closer. With a shaking hand, she lifted the torn hood from the blood-soaked ground. The face beneath was not Sorana's. Just another unfortunate soul.
A strange, hollow relief washed through her, cold and guilty.
"We keep moving," she whispered to Kaelen, her voice thin.
He watched her, his expression unreadable. "I have a plan. What if we spread out? You search for Sorana, and I'll search for Sorana too." He paused, his gaze shifting toward the deeper, darker corridors of the maze. "We can cover more ground. Let's separate."
A surge of desperate gratitude tightened her chest. He understood. He was helping.
"Yes," she whispered, gathering her courage like scattered armor. "That's a great idea."
She moved forward, believing in his lie.
Kaelen watched her vanish into the green, then turned without hesitation in the opposite direction. All her thoughts had been fixed on the belief that he would help her find Sorana.
She did not know his only search was for the snake.
Aurelia moved quickly, fear a cold current in her veins. All she wanted was to see Sorana alive.
Then she heard it—the dry, whispering hiss, slithering from the shadows behind her.
Why is it always following me?
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She turned, her movements stiff with dread.
There it was. The Ash-veiler, coiled like a fallen shadow, its obsidian eyes locking onto hers.
Instinctively, her hand flew up—not to attack, but to shield herself. A faint, silver light sputtered at her fingertips.
But the light didn't sharpen into a weapon. Instead, a warm, tingling sensation spread up her arm, soft and unnerving. Her hand began to tremble—not with the effort to strike, but with a bizarre, involuntary urge to… reach out.
No. No, no, no.
Tears of terror blurred her vision. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. A cold sweat slicked her skin beneath her clothes. Every muscle screamed at her to run, but her feet were rooted to the path.
Slowly, against every shrieking instinct, her trembling hand lowered. Her palm opened, facing the beast.
The serpent tilted its head. With a slow, silent glide, it moved forward. The massive, blood-streaked head descended.
"Oh," a whimper escaped her lips. She felt the dry, cool brush of scales against her sweaty palm.
It rested there.
Her entire body was rigid, vibrating with fear and disbelief.
This monster, this thing of teeth and tearing, was resting its head in her hand like a tamed creature. It made no move to harm her.
What am I?
The thought was a silent scream in her mind. This wasn't power. This was a nightmare. And it was waking up inside her.
"I've found it!"
Isabelle's voice cut through the green silence, sharp and triumphant. It was a beacon, a call to arms.
The snake flinched. In an instant, the connection shattered. It recoiled from Aurelia's touch, its massive body coiling back with a speed that blurred the air. With one last, unreadable flick of its tongue in her direction, it vanished into the thicket, fleeing the gathering hunt.
Aurelia stood alone, her palm still tingling, the ghost of its scales imprinted on her skin.
And in the sudden, hollow quiet, a strange understanding settled over her fear.
Maybe some things that seem monstrous… aren't.
It wasn't a mindless killer. It was a creature—hunted, surviving. Just like her, in this realm of beasts wearing crowns and masks.
Soon, the snake was caught.
It was Tenebrarum who seized it—a swift, brutal motion from the shadows. His hand closed around its throat just below the jaw, his grip so tight the serpent's hiss cut off into a choked, desperate rasp. It writhed, coils lashing against the gravel, but he held it aloft like a grim trophy, his faceless mask giving nothing away.
From the royal pavilion, the king's laughter rang out, rich with pride. He clapped a heavy hand on his favorite son's shoulder, his approval a public decree.
But Aurelia did not see a victor, or a prize.
All she saw was the helpless twist of its body, the slow struggle fading from its obsidian eyes—a creature that, moments ago, had rested its head in her palm like a silent plea.
It wasn't a monster anymore. It was a prisoner. And in its captured stillness, she saw something of herself.
"Are you okay, my lady?"
Sorana's whisper was a gentle touch at the edge of her awareness. Aurelia blinked, the roaring in her ears subsiding into the distant murmur of the celebrating court.
"Yes, of course," she said, her voice hollow but steady. "Let's go back to the room. Now."
Without looking at the platform where Tenebrarum stood victorious, she lifted the half-full glass of rose wine from the table beside her. She drained it in one long, deliberate swallow, the sweet tang doing nothing to wash the bitterness from her tongue. She passed the empty glass to Sorana, then stood, turning her back on the applause, the king's pride, and the captured serpent.
She did not look back.
But Tenebrarum noticed.
His gaze, cold and piercing even behind the mask, tracked her retreating form through the crowd. She hadn't waited for the ceremony to end. Hadn't offered a glance of acknowledgment, of fear, or even of anger.
All he saw was defiance.
And in that quiet, public dismissal, a vow crystallized in the dark of his mind.
She will pay. For everything.
For the whispered moment with Kaelen at her door. For the brush of a mask in the maze. For this—this silent, turning back.
He would break her. Not in rage, but with precision. He would strip away every shield, every flicker of that stubborn light in her eyes. And when she was gone—truly, finally gone—only then would he reclaim the heart she had dared to fracture.
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To be continued...