Elara's vision blurred as she stumbled through the darkness, the forest clutching at her torn clothes like the desperate hands of ghosts. Pain radiated from the bite mark on her neck, spreading like poison through her veins. Her heart pounded violently, each beat drumming Kael Thorne's name into her mind, an endless chant of dread and fascination.
She reached the edge of her village at dawn, the pale sunlight unable to chase away the shadows clinging to her trembling form. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, oblivious to the horror she had left behind in the forbidden forest.
"Gods, Elara!" A familiar voice pierced her haze, urgent hands gripping her shoulders. She flinched violently, recognition slow and painful.
Her friend, Mina, stared at her wide-eyed, the basket she carried slipping forgotten to the ground. "What happened to you?"
Elara tried to answer, but words caught painfully in her throat. Her fingers brushed the swollen puncture wounds at her neck, and Mina's eyes darkened with fearful understanding.
"Who—" Mina choked, eyes widening further, voice lowering to a trembling whisper. "You went there, didn't you? The Thornes' forest?"
Elara nodded numbly, dizziness nearly taking her legs from beneath her. "I had no choice... Arielle needed medicine."
Mina cursed softly, gripping her tighter. "And did you get it?"
"It's lost." Elara's voice trembled, tears blurring her vision again. "I broke the vial when I freed—"
Her words cut off abruptly as a sudden, intense wave of nausea surged through her body. Doubling over, she vomited blood onto the ground, her knees buckling as agony pierced her temples like silver needles.
"Elara!" Mina cried, voice distant as consciousness began to slip from her grasp. She collapsed into her friend's panicked embrace, Kael's dark laughter echoing through her fading mind.
She awoke hours later, wrapped in blankets stiff with dried herbs. Weak sunlight filtered gently through thin curtains, illuminating the cramped interior of the healer's hut.
"Easy now," the village healer, Elder Mirren, murmured softly as she pressed a damp cloth to Elara's forehead. "You've survived something no mortal should."
Elara groaned softly, memories crashing back mercilessly—the silver chains, Kael's burning gaze, his teeth sinking gently, intimately into her flesh.
Mirren's eyes sharpened knowingly, her old, wrinkled face severe yet strangely comforting. "You bear the mark of a Thorne. You've bonded with the wolf king himself."
"What does that mean?" Elara's voice trembled, panic threatening to consume her again.
"Your fates are now irrevocably bound," Mirren replied grimly. "Kael Thorne's blood runs in your veins. He will sense your pain, your fear...and your desires."
Elara shuddered violently, her heart racing. "There must be some way to break it."
Mirren sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Only death breaks such a bond, child. Either yours…or his."
Elara swallowed hard, her fingers clenching tightly into the blankets. "Then he must die."
Mirren gazed at her sadly, voice gentle yet firm. "Kael Thorne cannot be killed by ordinary means. Many have tried. None have succeeded."
Elara sat upright sharply, pain spiking through her neck, igniting a fresh wave of dizziness. "I don't care. I must try. My sister's life depends on it."
Mirren studied her quietly, sorrow evident in her wise gaze. Finally, she nodded. "Then you'll need more than bravery, child. You'll need magic—and steel."
Elara's breath caught. "You'll help me?"
"Someone must." Mirren's eyes hardened with quiet resolve. "If Kael has chosen you, he will come for you soon enough. We must prepare quickly."
A knock at the hut's door shattered the fragile calm. Elara tensed instantly, fear coiling tightly within her chest. Mirren exchanged a tense glance with her before cautiously opening the door.
Standing in the threshold was a tall figure cloaked in shadows, an envoy bearing the unmistakable crest of the Thornes. In his gloved hands, he held a silver tray covered with black silk.
"My lord sends his regards," the envoy's voice purred smoothly. "And gifts for Lady Elara Voss."
Mirren stepped aside, eyes wary. Elara hesitated, heart pounding as she lifted the silk covering with trembling hands. Beneath lay a stunning corset, gleaming darkly with intricate steel bones laced in silver spikes.
Her blood ran cold.
"A fitting gift," the envoy continued softly, his eyes glittering with malice. "My lord wishes for you to wear this tonight. He expects your presence at his feast."
Elara clenched her fists, terror and fury battling for control within her. "And if I refuse?"
The envoy's smile widened cruelly. "Refusal would be unwise. Lord Kael's patience is...limited."
Without another word, he placed the tray onto a small table and withdrew, leaving a thick, suffocating silence in his wake.
Mirren turned toward Elara, face pale yet defiant. "He tests you, child. He wants to see how quickly you'll surrender."
Elara stared at the corset, dread pooling thickly in her stomach. The spikes glistened sharply, promising pain, submission...and something darker she refused to name.
"I won't surrender," she whispered fiercely, voice shaking yet resolute.
"Good," Mirren said quietly, grasping her hand with a surprising strength. "Because surrender to Kael Thorne is fate worse than death."
Elara nodded numbly, pulling herself upright despite the pain. She traced the jagged marks upon her neck, knowing they symbolized more than Kael's bite—they signified war, defiance, and the promise of suffering to come.
She turned back to the corset, lifting it gingerly as its sharp edges bit into her fingertips. Blood welled slowly, staining the silver spikes crimson.
She looked up at Mirren, her voice steeling with quiet determination. "Help me prepare. Tonight, if Kael Thorne wants blood, he will have it—but it won't be mine alone."
Outside, the sun dipped low, surrendering once more to the encroaching darkness.