Sera's POV
I can't breathe.
The dress is too tight, or maybe it's the fear squeezing my chest like a fist. I stand at the back of the temple, watching people file in to witness my wedding. Except it's not really a wedding. It's a sale. My father sold me like a piece of furniture to pay off his gambling debts, and today is delivery day.
"You look beautiful, Sera," my sister Lyra says behind me. Her voice sounds wrong—too cheerful, like she's trying too hard.
I turn to look at her. She won't meet my eyes. That's the first warning bell in my head.
"Lyra, do you think—" I start to ask if she thinks I could run away, but she's already walking toward the temple entrance, her bridesmaid dress swishing behind her.
My best friend Maya grabs my arm and pulls me into a corner. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with worry.
"Sera, listen to me," she whispers urgently. "Lord Damon's last three wives all died. All of them. Within a year of marrying him."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"They say it was accidents. A fall down the stairs. A sudden illness. A riding accident. But three wives, Sera? Three?" Maya's fingers dig into my arm. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll watch everything he gives you to eat or drink."
I want to laugh, but it comes out as a choked sound. "Maya, I can't marry him. I can't—"
"Sera!" My father's voice cuts through the temple. He's standing by the altar, his face red and angry. "Get up here. Now."
I look at Maya one more time. She squeezes my hand and lets go.
I walk down the aisle on shaking legs. Every step feels like I'm walking toward my own grave. The guests stare at me—some with pity, some with curiosity, most with indifference. Nobody's going to save me. Nobody ever does.
At the altar, Lord Damon waits. He's older than my father, with cold eyes and a smile that doesn't reach them. When he looks at me, I feel like a bug under glass.
"Beautiful," he says, reaching for my hand. His fingers are ice cold. "You'll make a lovely addition to my collection."
Collection. Not wife. Collection.
Elder Mordain steps forward to begin the ceremony. He's ancient, with white hair and eyes that seem to see too much. When he looks at me, he smiles. It's not a nice smile. It's the smile of someone who knows a secret, and that secret is going to hurt you.
"Dearly beloved," Mordain begins, "we are gathered here at sunset to witness—"
Sunset. Why sunset? Weddings happen in the morning or afternoon, not at sunset. That's the second warning bell.
I glance around the temple. The guests are nervous, fidgeting in their seats. They keep looking at the windows as the sun sinks lower. Even Lord Damon seems tense, his jaw tight.
Something is very, very wrong.
"Do you, Sera Ashwood, take this man—" Mordain continues.
That's when I see Lyra. She's standing off to the side, and she's crying. But they're not sad tears. She's smiling through them, like she's relieved. Like she's won something.
My sister wanted this. She wanted me here.
The third warning bell isn't a bell at all. It's a howl.
Long and low and inhuman, it rises from the forest beyond the village. Then another howl joins it. And another. The sound fills the air like a nightmare coming to life.
Everyone freezes.
"What was that?" someone whispers.
"Continue the ceremony," Mordain orders, but his voice is sharp with urgency now. "Quickly."
Lord Damon's grip on my hand tightens painfully. "Say the words, girl."
But I can't say anything. Because through the temple windows, I see shadows moving between the trees. Lots of shadows. Big ones.
Another howl splits the air, closer this time.
Then the screaming starts.
It comes from the village square, high and terrified. More screams join it. I hear crashing sounds, wood splintering, people running.
"They're early!" Mordain shouts, and there's panic in his voice. "The ritual isn't complete—they're not supposed to attack until after—"
He stops himself, but I heard enough. After what? After the wedding? He knew this was coming. He planned this.
The temple doors burst open. A woman runs in, blood on her dress, her eyes wild with terror. "Monsters!" she screams. "Monsters are attacking! They're killing everyone!"
The guests panic. Everyone stampedes toward the side exits. Lord Damon drops my hand and runs, shoving people out of his way like the coward he is. My father disappears into the crowd without even looking back at me.
But Lyra doesn't run. She stands frozen, staring at me with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," she mouths. "I'm so sorry."
She knew. My own sister knew this would happen.
Maya grabs my arm. "Sera, we have to go! Now!"
We run. Out the back exit, into the chaos of the village. Buildings are burning. People are running in every direction. And in the middle of it all, I see them.
Monsters. Real monsters.
They're huge, covered in shadows that move like they're alive. Their eyes glow red like hot coals. They have claws as long as knives and teeth like razors. They move through the village like death itself, fast and terrible and unstoppable.
"The forest!" Maya screams, pulling me toward the tree line. "We can hide in the forest!"
We run. My wedding dress tears on branches and thorns. My bare feet slip on mud and leaves. Behind us, the village burns. People die. Everything I've ever known is ending in blood and fire.
We make it maybe twenty feet into the forest before Maya trips. She falls hard, her ankle twisting with a sick crack.
"Go!" she screams at me. "Sera, run!"
But I can't leave her. I try to pull her up, but she's too heavy, and my hands are shaking too badly.
That's when I feel it. The temperature drops. The shadows between the trees grow darker. Every instinct I have screams at me to run, but my body won't move.
Something is coming.
Something worse than the monsters in the village.
I turn around slowly.
He stands ten feet away, and he's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. He's massive—at least eight feet tall—made of shadows and nightmare. His eyes burn red like fire. His claws could cut through stone. He radiates power and death.
The Beast King.
He looks at Maya. Then at me. His head tilts slightly, like he's deciding which of us to kill first.
Maya whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut.
But the Beast King doesn't look at her anymore. He only looks at me.
He takes one step forward. Then another. Each footstep shakes the ground.
I should run. I should scream. I should do something.
Instead, I lift my chin and look him straight in his burning eyes. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die brave.
"Please," I whisper. "Let her go. Take me instead."
The Beast King stops. For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then he reaches out one massive clawed hand—
And touches my forehead.
The world explodes into gold and pain and magic. I feel something burning into my skin, marking me, claiming me. I hear myself screaming, but it sounds far away.
The last thing I see before darkness takes me is his eyes. Not red anymore.
Silver.
And very, very human.