CHAPTER ONE: THE BEGINNING
845 Words
"Are you crazy? How could you do such a thing?"
"This was not the plan!"
"How was I supposed to know he was working for them?"
"Can you all just shut up already?"
"Why should we? Look where we are! We're going to die for sure!"
"And you! Why aren't you saying anything?"
"Hmm."
The argument echoed through the dungeon, bouncing off the damp stone walls. Water dripped steadily from somewhere in the darkness, each drop landing with an irritating plink that only made the silence between their shouts feel heavier.
Iris leaned against the cold wall behind her and winced. The rough stone scraped against her skin through her shirt. The air smelled of mold, wet earth, and something metallic that she didn't want to identify. Flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the floor, making the narrow cell seem smaller with every passing second.
How had she gotten herself tangled up in this mess?
Seriously.
If someone had told her a year ago that she would be trapped in a Victorian-style dungeon with her high school friends, a vampire, a shifter, a fey, and her favorite teacher—who had secretly been a witch the entire time—she would have laughed in their face and called them insane.
Yet here she was.
The iron bars of their cell were cold enough to sting when touched. A distant howl echoed somewhere beyond the corridor, followed by the sound of chains rattling. The noise sent a shiver down her spine.
Ten months.
Only ten months had passed since graduation.
Ten months since her biggest worries had been exams, student council meetings, and figuring out what she wanted to do with her life.
Back then, the supernatural world had existed only in books, movies, and ridiculous conspiracy theories online.
Now it was her reality.
A reality filled with creatures that shouldn't exist, ancient secrets, impossible magic, and enough near-death experiences to last several lifetimes.
And somehow, through a series of increasingly terrible decisions, she and her friends had ended up at the center of it all.
How had they gone from ordinary students to becoming leaders in the supernatural world in less than a year?
Honestly, that part still surprised her.
Well... not her exactly.
Iris glanced at her friends as they continued arguing.
Alaric paced like a caged predator, his crimson eyes flashing with frustration. Fenrik looked one insult away from punching someone. Aelthira sat against the wall with an expression that suggested she was already planning revenge. Even Rose looked exhausted, strands of hair escaping her usually perfect appearance.
Beside Iris, Chloe sat quietly, her arms wrapped around her knees.
Her so-called friends.
The same people who somehow managed to turn every simple plan into complete chaos.
And now they were trapped in a dungeon, waiting to find out whether they would live long enough to escape.
A cold draft swept through the corridor, extinguishing one of the torches outside their cell.
Darkness crept closer.
For the first time since their capture, a knot of fear tightened in Irish's chest.
Maybe her friends were right.
Maybe they were actually going to die.
Then Alaric suddenly froze.
His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared toward the corridor.
"Listen."
Immediately, the argument died.
At first, Irish didn't hear anything.
Then it came.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Steady.
Growing closer with every passing second.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
Water dripped from the ceiling while torchlight flickered against the stone walls.
The footsteps stopped outside the cell.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Iris's stomach twisted.
Of course.
It was him.
The cause of every problem they were currently facing.
The reason they were trapped here.
The reason Rose had lost the person she loved.
"So," Fenrik spat, gripping the iron bars, "you've got the guts to show your face."
The man smiled.
A smug, irritating smile that made Irish want to punch him.
"Even now," he said, "you still have some fight left in you."
"Can you even understand the situation you're in?"
"Don't worry about us," Fenrik growled.
The man's smile widened.
"At least I'm not the one locked up."
Alaric stepped forward.
"When we get out of here, you're dead."
The man laughed.
"Try your best, little one."
Then his gaze shifted to Rose.
"And how are you doing, Rose?"
Rose didn't answer.
Instead, she stepped forward and spat at him.
Pure disgust flashed across her face.
The man chuckled.
"Still angry, I see."
"You killed him," Rose said coldly.
For the first time, the dungeon seemed even colder.
The man's smile never faltered.
"Yes. I did."
The hatred in Rose's eyes was enough to make even Irish look away.
The man simply laughed and turned around.
His footsteps slowly disappeared into the darkness, leaving them alone once again.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than the dungeon itself.
And somehow, deep in her gut, Irish knew this wasn't the beginning of their story.
It was the end.
Or at least, the beginning of the end.
Ten months earlier...
- Writer
