CHAPTER TWO - THE FORTRESS OF BROKEN THINGS
1445 Words
The fortress looked like something that had crawled out of a nightmare and decided to stay.
Selene had seen it in paintings dark, looming, wrapped in silver mist like a shroud. But seeing it up close? That was different. The walls were black stone, slick and gleaming under the moonlight, carved with symbols she didn’t recognize but could feel. They pulsed with the same rhythm as the mark on her back, like the fortress itself was alive, breathing, waiting.
The gates opened without anyone touching them.
Of course they did.
“Creepy much?” Selene muttered.
Dorian’s chest rumbled against her back not quite a laugh, but close enough to surprise her. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Bold of you to assume I’ll be here long enough to get used to anything.”
He didn’t answer. Just guided the horse through the gates into a courtyard that looked like it had been designed by someone who really, really hated joy.
Everything was sharp angles and cold stone. Wolves prowled the perimeter, their eyes tracking her every movement. A few were still in half-shift, caught between human and beast, their bodies wrong in a way that made her stomach turn.
This was her life now. Cool.
When Dorian dismounted, and he reached up to help her down, but Selene ignored his hand and slid off herself. Her legs wobbled the second her feet hit the ground, the bond sapping her strength, but she’d literally die before she let him see that.
“Stubborn,” Dorian observed.
“Observant,” she shot back.
His mouth twitched. Barely. If she hadn’t been staring (which she definitely wasn’t), she would’ve missed it.
“This way.” He turned and walked toward the main entrance a massive set of double doors carved with wolves mid-hunt, their jaws open, their prey nowhere to be seen.
Subtle.
Inside, the fortress was somehow worse. The ceiling stretched so high Selene couldn’t see the top. Torches lined the walls, their flames casting shadows that moved wrong too slow, too deliberate. Wolves in human form watched from alcoves and doorways, their golden eyes following her like she was a particularly interesting science experiment.
“They’re staring,” Selene said, keeping her voice low.
“You’re new,” Dorian replied, like that explained everything. “And human. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“The mark is changing you. They can smell it.”
Fantastic. She was becoming a wolf scratch and sniff sticker.
They walked through endless corridors, past rooms filled with weapons, tapestries depicting battles she didn’t recognize, and more wolves than she could count. Finally, Dorian stopped in front of a door that looked less murdery than the others.
“Your room,” he said, pushing it open.
Selene stepped inside and okay, she had to admit, it wasn’t terrible. The room was huge, with a four-poster bed that looked like it could sleep six people, a fireplace already crackling with warmth, and floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the forest. The walls were deep blue, almost black, and covered in silver constellations that seemed to shift when she looked at them directly.
“It’s…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Not a dungeon.”
“Did you expect a dungeon?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
Dorian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable expression he seemed to have copyrighted. “You’re not a prisoner, Selene.”
“Right. I’m just magically bound to you, dragged here against my will, and expected to die in childbirth. But not a prisoner. Got it.”
His jaw ticked. “You agreed to come.”
“Because the alternative was being dragged by my neck while my family watched.”
For a moment, something flickered across his face guilt, maybe, or regret. But it was gone before she could name it, replaced by that cold, controlled mask.
“There are clothes in the wardrobe,” he said, voice clipped. “A bath through that door. Food will be brought up shortly.”
“How thoughtful. Are the chains complimentary, or do I have to ask?”
His eyes flashed gold his wolf rising to the surface. “You think this is a joke?”
“No, I think it’s a nightmare. I’m just coping the only way I know how.”
They stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension. The mark on her back burned hotter, like it was trying to drag her toward him. Selene’s hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. She wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t give in.
Dorian looked away first.
“Get some rest,” he said, his voice flat. “Tomorrow is going to be… difficult.”
“The bonding ceremony.”
“Yes.”
“And you still won’t tell me what that actually means?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “It means the bond will stop being a whisper and start being a scream. It means every instinct you have will tell you to submit, to accept, to let me in.” His gaze met hers, and for the first time since they’d met, she saw something raw beneath the ice. “It means you’ll lose yourself if you’re not strong enough to hold on.”
Selene’s throat tightened. “And if I am strong enough?”
“Then maybe, just maybe,you’ll survive long enough to matter.”
With that, he turned and walked away, the door closing behind him with a finality that felt like a countdown starting.
Selene stood there, alone in a room that smelled like pine and smoke and something else … something wild. The mark pulsed in time with her heartbeat, a constant reminder that her body wasn’t entirely hers anymore.
She crossed to the window and pressed her palm against the cold glass. Somewhere out there, her mother and sister were safe. That was what mattered. That was why she was here.
But as she stared out at the forest, at the moon hanging low and heavy, one thought circled through her mind on repeat:
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
A knock at the door startled her out of her spiral.
“Come in,” she called, expecting a servant with food.
Instead, a girl around her age slipped inside petite, with wild dark curls and eyes that gleamed silver instead of gold. She carried a tray of bread, cheese, and something that smelled suspiciously like wine.
“You must be the new sacrifice,” the girl said cheerfully, setting the tray on a side table. “I’m Kira. Dorian’s cousin. Well, one of his cousins. There are like, twelve of us. It’s a whole thing.”
Selene blinked. “Did you just call me a sacrifice?”
“I mean, yeah? That’s what you are, right? No offense.”
“Some taken.”
Kira grinned, completely unbothered. “Look, I know this whole situation is super messed up. But for what it’s worth, I hope you make it. You’ve got this energy about you like you’d punch a bear if it looked at you wrong. I respect that.”
Despite everything, Selene felt her mouth twitch. “Thanks?”
“Also, pro tip: Don’t try to run. The bond won’t let you get far, and Dorian gets all broody and impossible when he has to chase people down. Last girl tried it three times before she figured it out.”
Selene’s stomach dropped. “Last girl?”
Kira’s smile faded. “Yeah. Lyanna. She lasted three months, like I said. She was… nice. Scared, but nice.” She paused, something sad crossing her face. “The curse took her fast. One day she was fine, the next she was coughing up blood. By the time the baby came…” She shook her head. “Anyway. That’s why everyone’s so weird and tense around you. Nobody wants to get attached just to watch you die.”
“Comforting.”
“Hey, I’m Team Selene. I think you’re gonna be different.”
“Based on what?”
Kira shrugged. “Vibes.”
Before Selene could respond, Kira was already heading for the door. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna suck. But I mean, if you survive, we should totally be friends.”
And then she was gone, leaving Selene alone with her thoughts and a tray of food she suddenly had no appetite for.
She collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion hitting her all at once. The mark throbbed, a steady, relentless reminder of what was coming.
Tomorrow night, it will consume you.
- Writer
