Claimed By The Alpha

Chapter 5

Halia's POV

I was standing in a field that shouldn't have existed. The grass shimmered with the silver sheen of moonlight, but the moon above me was split in two—a fractured orb hanging low in the sky like a wound left open. Trees whispered without wind, their branches crooked like reaching fingers. Every step I took echoed, though there was no ground beneath my feet. Only mist. Only silence.

Something was wrong.

I turned, looking for landmarks, for signs, for anything that would tell me this place was real—or not. My feet carried me forward without my permission, drawn toward something, pulled like a thread caught on a hook.

That was when I saw him.

A figure in the distance. Tall, motionless. Dressed in black that shifted like smoke. I couldn't see his face, but I knew him. I knew the shape of his shoulders. The way the shadows clung to him. My heart stuttered, stumbled. It was him. The man from my dreams. The one who had taken me in the dark.

My mouth opened. No sound came out.

He raised a hand, palm upturned, and the world around me rippled. Trees bent away. The fractured moon flared, and in that brief burst of light, I saw his eyes.

Gold. Burning. Empty and full all at once.

I stepped forward. Then another. The pull in my chest grew stronger. My breath caught as he reached for me.

When our fingers touched, the world shattered.

Flashes.

A circle of stone lit by candles. My body, lying still in the center. His hands, slick with blood, painting symbols into my skin. A name spoken into flame.

My name.

"Halia."

And then—darkness.

I woke up to cold.

A deep, biting cold that coiled inside me. My eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes heavy with sleep or something far thicker. I lay on a hard surface that hummed beneath me. Marble, I thought dimly. Too smooth. Too polished. Too... wrong.

Above me, the sky stretched wide, but it wasn't any sky I recognized. No sun. No stars. Just a swirling tapestry of violet and black, like an oil painting caught in motion. The air felt thin. Hollow. Every breath scraped like glass.

Where was I?

I sat up slowly, and the fog clinging to the floor moved with me, curling around my limbs like curious fingers. My body ached, but not in any way I could name. It felt like I had been torn in half and stitched back with fire.

"Hello?" I said, but the word was swallowed before it could echo. There was no wind, no birds, no distant hum of life. Just me.

And the silence.

I stood. Barefoot. Bare-armed. Dressed in something thin and unfamiliar. My steps made no sound as I moved through the mist, unsure if I was walking at all. The marble stretched endlessly in all directions, edged by nothing. It was as if the world had been stripped down to bone and shadow.

Then I felt it.

A tug.

In my chest, faint but firm. Like an invisible thread had been tied to my ribs, pulling me forward. I didn't want to follow. But I had no choice.

As I walked, the sky began to change. Small motes of silver light drifted down from above, flickering like dying stars. They brushed against my skin and vanished. Each one left behind a memory I didn't recognize.

A kiss pressed to my throat.

A whispered oath in a language I didn't know.

Hands around my waist, holding, claiming.

I stopped, breath catching. "What are you doing to me?"

The mist parted.

And there, at the center of everything, stood a woman.

She was tall, regal, with hair like moonlight and eyes like frozen rivers. Her gown shimmered like the surface of water under starlight. She looked at me as if I were a question she'd waited centuries to answer.

"You have crossed," she said. "The veil thinned. You slipped through."

"Where am I?"

"Between worlds."

I swallowed hard. "Why me?"

Her gaze sharpened. "Because you were called. Marked. Claimed. The ritual opened the door."

I felt it then—a weight around my neck. My fingers flew to my throat and found a chain there. A pendant I had never seen before, shaped like an eclipse, cold against my skin.

"What is this?"

"A bond. A warning. A promise."

The woman stepped closer. "He thinks he has claimed you. But the bond is not complete. Not yet. You have a choice."

"Who is he?"

"The one who fights the curse. The one who feeds it."

I shook my head. "None of this makes sense. I want to wake up."

The woman tilted her head. "You will. But you will not wake the same."

Behind her, the mist began to thicken. Shapes moved within it. Shadows with eyes. Whispers curled through the air like smoke.

"Be careful, Halia," she said, her voice almost kind. "Even in dreams, there are doors that should never be opened."

Then the ground split beneath my feet.

I fell.

And woke up screaming.