[ELARA]But it’s not possible. We made sure no one followed us. We heard no human heartbeats near the lair.Lila enlightens me, ‘A vampire’s heart doesn’t beat.’Instinctively, I move closer to Magnus, my hand latching to his arm in fear. His golden eyes flicker to me, momentarily softening, losing the anger with which he regarded Valen. I let go, wondering how embarrassing it must look. So this vampire has been watching us all this while and we didn’t have a clue. Since when has he been around here? The fear of what else he might know is overwhelming. Does he know of the passageway? Of the poison vial Zander handed over to me? My breathing is loud, much audible in the quiet dark dungeon until Magnus' voice cuts through the place, “I don’t trust you, Lord Valen. Your kind doesn’t have a reputation of being loyal.”Valen lets out an amused laugh, snapping the book shut. “You need my loyalty, Prince Magnus? I’m flattered. But all I can really give you right now is my curiosity. And
[ELARA]The journey back is a quiet one, save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the night breeze blowing about. Magnus remains silent as we walk, his steps heavy with unspoken thoughts. When we finally reach my chamber, he stops, his eyes refusing to meet mine. "Goodnight, Elara," he says simply, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.I hesitate, a frown forming as I find my voice. "Mag—"But he's already turning away, his back to me, a wall I can't breach.Alistair’s eyes linger on me for a moment, a silent question in their depths, before he bows and decides to follow his alpha. I swallow the disappointment that rises within me, forcing myself to walk away too. Maybe this is his retaliation for how I avoided having a conversation with him earlier in the corridors. But that was different. It was about us. What I wish to say now is about so much more.The door to my chamber closes behind me with a soft click, sealing me in the oppressive silence. I shiver with fear, walking into the
[ELARA]“Alright,” I say, shrugging. “We can pretend and forget that ever happened. It was a moment of weakness and well, you and I are both young. We’re bound to… our bodies are bound to want… things. B-But it was dangerous anyway. And stupid.”Lady Brook’s words usher into my thoughts. The King proposes to wed Princess Daphne to Prince Magnus. This marriage gives him the kingdom of Wyvern, because Daphne is the heir to the throne.Magnus' eyes darken. His lips form a frown that says he doesn’t agree. But his words don’t. “Valen will be difficult to handle. But Rasmus has sworn an oath to keep this a secret. He only wishes to play a scientist and delve into experimentation,” he says, completely diverging from the topic in discussion, but then it's for the best. “I always thought Prince Rasmus was more rational. Turns out he was just upset that I happened to be the first to get my hands on a mutated hydralith.”“What about Alina?” I ask, arguably, the most pressing question. “Are we to
[ELARA]As I quietly make my way to the guest quarters, every step fills me with dread, slowing my pace. My arms shiver, and it is not just from the cold of the place being built underneath carved ground.How do I break it to a mother that her only daughter has turned into a rogue? The worst fate that can be cast upon a werewolf? And that I feel partially responsible for it?I had some hope in me this morning when my eyes opened beside the sleeping figure of Magnus. We visited Alina in her locked cell, passing through the concealed entrance, and found her transitioned. I knew it was coming, and I refused to believe it until I saw those bloodshot eyes and rabid fangs.She growled furiously the moment we approached, rattling the silver bars, without a care that they were searing the skin of her hands. Magnus had to drag me out of the dungeons because I couldn’t move or speak.It was terrifying, somehow even more than when I saw Alec. I loved him, and I falsely believed a part of him was
[ELARA]"Princess Elara," Valen says, his voice a soft murmur that barely disturbs the still air of the dimly lit library. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." He closes the book in his hand with a quiet thud, the sound echoing faintly in the silence, and makes his way towards me with a grace that makes his footsteps almost silent on the polished wooden floor.His singular eye moves from my trembling hands to my face, a fleeting smirk tugging at his lips as he remarks, "You look shaken."I draw in a deep breath, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over me. "I just delivered the news of someone’s rogueness to her mother and my father," I mutter, my voice tight. "How else am I expected to look?""Her mother and your father? That’s interesting," he muses, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re surely a little relieved about the whole thing after what she did to you," he accuses, gesturing with a sweeping motion for me to take a seat on a cushioned chair by the fireplace, its embers
[ELARA]“What’s going on here?” Magnus’ voice cuts through the air, sharp and angry. He storms into the library, his golden eyes glaring at the spot on the table where Valen’s hands intertwine with mine. I let go of Valen’s hands abruptly, rising from the chair. “Magnus,” I mumble his name as he stops right in front of me. “What’s going on here?” he asks again, his eyes searching for an answer while brimming with anger. “What are you doing here alone with Lord Blackbane?”Valen answers the question even though it's not directed at him, his voice smooth, “As I said last night, Your Highness, I’m offering the Princess some distraction from our current troubles. Trying to indulge her into the habit of reading. And, I’m pleased to inform you that she has shown a keen interest in gaining knowledge.”Magnus’ eyes narrow at the vampire’s words before they stray over the open book on the table. He draws in a sharp breath. “I think that’s enough knowledge gained for today,” he announces, and
[ELARA]We’re not even given the opportunity to answer him, forget about the irrational anger I feel on being interrupted. Celeste barges in, pushing aside Alistair before she faces me, her eyes red and swollen with tears. Her demand comes in a desperate, hard voice, “Where is my daughter?”“Lady Celeste, you must calm yourself,” Alistair tells her in a relaxed voice, barely bothered with being pushed aside. “You cannot barge into the Prince’s chambers like this.”She ignores him, instead reaching for me. Her arms splay out as she nears me, but Magnus steps in front. “Lady Celeste, I’ll take you to see your daughter,” he assures her. “But I need you to be patient.”“Patient? You want me to be patient? When my daughter has been turned into a rogue? I need to see her now,” she urges, her eyes widened in manic fury. “Now!”“That’s not possible,” Magnus answers simply, shaking his head. It is the calmness in Magnus’ voice that sends her over the edge. She lets out a blood-curdling screech
[MAGNUS]Although I’m headed straight for the dungeons, my path is intruded by the young Lord Jaromir. He notices me before I do and halts, bowing when I near him. “Prince Magnus,” he greets in a heavy voice that doesn’t match his frail figure. The redness of his swollen eyes has faded. But there’s a resolve in them which is quite hard to miss, a sort of anger I recognise quite well. My father was once taken away from me as well. Unjustly. At least he didn’t have to see his father’s head being cut off with his own eyes. The Goddess spared him that cruelty. A sigh escapes my lips, annoyance striking me. Time is the most valuable asset at the moment. The more I delay meeting Rasmus and bringing him closer to Ruelle, the more likely I am to be forced to make a rash decision to save my sister. An alliance with Qaiven will be beneficial in the long run. Not just to me, but to the Kingdom I'll rule one day.Aren’t all these efforts made in the name of becoming a king? ‘First try and survi
[ELARA]Thornhall has become a theater, and Magnus its star performer. To the lords who visit every month for his feasts, he’s the epitome of charm—a prince who smiles easily, dances with grace, and entertains his guests with music and laughter. It’s a clever mask, one I can’t decide if he wears for them or for himself.But when the wine runs dry, and the music fades to nothing, the whispers creep in again. War brews in Caelondor, the unrest growing louder with every passing week. The King’s cruelty has spilled past the castle walls, stoking rebellion among both peasants and nobles. And now, with Magnus in exile, his name has become a rallying cry.He must have been named heir. What else could ignite this fire? The King has no other children. The throne will fall to Magnus, whether he wants it or not.These thoughts circle endlessly, the rumors tightening around us like a noose. And though Magnus has yet to speak a single word of it to me, I know what he’s doing. The quiet conversatio
[ELARA]The castle of Thornhall never gets warm or less... quiet. No fire, no laughter, no passing seasons can melt the chill that creeps through its blackened stone halls. Outside, the winds howl and the trees shed their leaves, but inside, it remains an unchanging tomb, where the air feels too still, too aware.The blue roses that snake their way up the jagged walls bloom and wither in cycles, but their petals never touch the ground. They vanish midair, leaving nothing behind but the faint, cloying scent of decay. It’s a scent that lingers, even when there are no roses in sight.But that’s not the most sinister thing about this place. The true menace of Thornhall reveals itself in the night. That’s when the walls begin their unholy symphony, whispering in a language that is neither human nor beast. Serpentine—hisses and sighs that slither through the shadows. Clarice, the steward’s wife, swears they’re the voices of the dead, trapped here since their final, brutal breaths.And ther
[RUELLE]The coldness of the water is the first thing I feel, a biting chill that seeps into my bones, numbing every part of me. The weight of it presses down, making it impossible to tell which way is up. My limbs thrash, but the water drags me down, its icy grip tightening around my chest. For a long time, it’s just the water—an endless, suffocating struggle against the darkness.Then, a force stirs within me. Kara. My wolf. Her spirit rises, lending me the strength I desperately need. With her urging, I push through the heavy currents, my lungs burning as I break the surface.Gasping for air, I blink rapidly, my eyes stinging with salt. The world is chaos. Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the tumultuous waves, and the ship I was on—once a vessel of hope—tilts precariously, the Cursed Gulf hungrily pulling it under. The air vibrates with thunder, each clap shaking the very water around me.I struggle to stay afloat, coughing and spluttering, trying to make sense of the
[RUELLE]Perhaps Alec somehow tenses the fear in me, because one moment he’s nowhere to be seen, and the next he’s in front of me, shielding me from them. They’re Uncle Eldric’s men. About a dozen or so. And they don’t seem interested in me, or anyone. They’re just taking passage to the next harbour, clambering onto the deck like it is their birthright. The captain of the ship curses under his breath, not pleased to be hosting this uninvited unit who won’t pay a fare, but treat his ship as their own. And yet, my heart refuses to rest. It paces furiously, and I believe it will continue to do so until they’ve gotten off the ship. Alec turns to face me, his tall stature hiding the afternoon sun so it can’t hurt my eyes. “Why do you look so worried?” he asks softly. “They’re just the King’s soldiers. They mean no harm to you.”But even as those words leave his lips, there’s an air of uncertainty to them. He seems to be thinking: why would she be sweating her senses out if they meant no
[RUELLE]My lips release a gasp, my cheeks burning as if set on fire. Share a hammock with a stranger? A man? He lets out a laugh then only to cut himself short. His face turns serious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he pauses, looking away. “I was only jesting.”If we were back in the palace, I’d have laughed and joined in the fun. But no—any sense of joy has abandoned me. I’m in survival mode. He may have promised to protect me, but what reason does he have to keep his word? His intentions could sway any minute, even though he may be truly genuine right now. I have never been gullible, but I certainly do have my feet firmly planted on this dusty floor, within his chamber. I’m a fool, I think. Before I know it, I’m brushing past his shoulder, running to the wide wooden plank that serves as a door. But his hand is quicker, gripping my wrist like a vice. I turn to glance at his face, my jaw clenching, partly in fear and partly in anger for stopping me. “Let me go.”He loosens his g
[RUELLE]A flicker of recognition strikes those eyes, and then just as quickly it is replaced by cold indifference. He continues walking across the deck, his steps now less certain than before, his stance almost cautious. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. His reaction tells me he wasn’t sent by Eldric or he would’ve already dragged me off the ship, right? But then I don’t recall seeing him at the palace after that. My brain is muddling slowly due to the hunger in my growling stomach. I can’t remember much. A huff of air from my lungs forms a misty cloud in front of my face. The morning will be cold, colder when we’re deeper into the sea, but at least the frosty night has passed us. The stolen cloak has kept me alive, but it has done nothing to ease the pain of hunger, which amplifies with every passing second. I close my eyes only to see the man once again in my mind, reminding me of the undoubtable recognition, the slight parting of his lips in shock. Was it my
[RUELLE]The harbour looks different tonight. It feels different. The air smells unfamiliar, filling me with more terror than I already feel deep in my bones, making me shiver from more than just the cold. The ships bob in the dark water, their tall masts slicing into the moonlit sky. Lanterns flicker along the docks, casting faint light on the rippling waves. The sharp tang of salt, mingled with the stench of fish, damp wood, and the sweat of sailors hauling crates and barrels.I’ve been here countless times during my life, but all those other times, my heart raced for a completely different reason — out of excitement for the new place I’d explore when the ship anchored on the other side. Tonight, there’s only room for fear. I have to survive.‘No time to waste,’ my wolf, Kara, mutters. ‘Let’s go.’Tugging the hood of my cloak tighter around my face, I let out a shaky breath. I stole the cloak from a caravan halted along the forest road on my way here. It wasn’t taken from someone
Days turn into weeks. The journey to Tassel stretches on endlessly, a procession of dust, silence, and heavy skies. We take stops at manors, and the great halls of Lord and Ladies who host us, entertain us, and offer us their finest wines and elaborate meals.Magnus surprises me. I had not thought he would agree to be anyone’s guest, least of all on this journey. Yet, each time we halt at one of these estates, he assumes his role as though he was born for it.It is at the third manor, the estate of Lord Carin, that I finally see why.The great hall is awash in golden light from the hearth, the warm air mingling with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine. Magnus stands at the head of the table, his presence demanding as he speaks. His voice carries across the room.“You underestimate the resilience of the southern provinces, my lord,” Magnus remarks with a curt nod. “A drought may cripple their harvests, but their ingenuity will see them through. Did you not hear of the irrigation
We’ve been exiled.The words play over and over in my mind. Exiled. Not banished, not ousted, but a carefully chosen word designed to cloak humiliation with civility. Perhaps the phrase 'we’ve been kicked out of the palace' would have been more honest. Magnus would never utter it aloud, though. Pride runs through him like marrow through bone.Everything happens in a rush after the announcement — a frantic blur of bustling servants, hastily packed trunks, and clipped whispers that dart through the corridors like rats. I barely recall how I was swept into the palanquin, a gilded cage draped in deep velvet curtains and stuffed with feathered pillows meant to soften the blow of our fall from grace. It fails. No amount of luxury can soothe the sting of what this means — what this is.Lady Celia refuses to appear. She locks herself in her chambers and does not even bid us farewell. Whether her silence is born of anger over Ruelle’s escape or of grief over our collective disgrace, I cannot s