Lyra's POV
The catacombs beneath the Crimson Moon castle were a sprawling, suffocating labyrinth of damp stone and forgotten history.
I’d slipped out of the royal chambers long before the morning sun could pierce the heavy velvet curtains, leaving Fenrir deeply asleep. His massive body was sprawled across the tangled silk sheets in the immediate aftermath of his devastating, unrelenting claim.
Though my muscles ached with a heavy soreness—a phantom reminder of his knot locking me to the mattress—I forced my legs to carry me deeper into the pitch-black tunnels. The physical toll didn’t matter. I desperately needed answers.
Guided by the sickly-sweet scent of burning myrrh and dried nightshade, I navigated the winding descent until the narrow corridor finally opened into a cavernous cham
