Chapter 5
546 Words
Soon after she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. Shadows seeped through the cracks in the obsidian walls, writhing like smoke given form. They hummed, low and haunting.
Serenya’s breath caught as one caught her waist. Then another wound itself around her wrist, tugging her gently but firmly toward the vanity carved of black crystal. The shadows did not speak, yet their intent was clear. Prepare.
Her pulse quickened.
Then they got to work. They loosened the gown she wore, fabric falling from her shoulders in a hushed sigh. Her bare skin prickled under their touch. She wanted to flinch, to fight them off, but some deeper part of her stilled, sensing that resistance would only amuse him further.
The dress she rejected from Nekros now dangled in front of her. The shadows lifted it with surprising gentleness, sliding it over her form. It clung to her curves as though molded by unseen hands with the neckline dipping scandalously low.
Her lips parted. “This is… indecent.”
The shadows tightened briefly around her waist, almost like a warning. Then they released, coiling back as if satisfied.
Jewels followed, obsidian bracelets that burned cold against her skin, and a choker that pulsed faintly. She reached up to touch it, but the shadows struck her hand away with a sharp sting, reminding her whose gift it was.
By the time they finished, she barely recognized the woman in the mirror. Her hair spilled in waves of dark silk, threaded with tiny shards of silver light. Her eyes, once defiant flame, now seemed caught between vulnerability and a dangerous allure.
She whispered to her reflection, “He dresses me like his bride… but chains me like his prize.”
The chamber doors creaked open. A pair of shadow servants stood waiting, faceless and silent, their forms shifting like smoke held together by bone. One gestured toward the hallway, an unspoken command.
Her throat tightened, but she lifted her chin. If Nekros expected her to walk to him trembling, he would be disappointed. Was she scared? Yes but at the same time she was excited and she couldn’t understand why.
The corridor stretched endlessly, walls gleaming with veins of molten light that pulsed like the heartbeat of the underworld itself. With each step, the air grew heavier, charged with his presence long before she reached the dining hall.
When the massive obsidian doors swung wide, she found him already seated.
Nekros reclined at the head of a long table carved from volcanic stone, its surface set with plates of gold and goblets filled with liquid that glowed faintly red. Candles burned with black flame, casting the room in a sinister glow.
His gaze lifted the moment she entered. Cold. Piercing. Possessive.
But then… something flickered there.
Hunger.
He rose slowly, the movement predatory, deliberate. His lips curved into the barest hint of a smile, though his eyes promised danger.
“You clean up well, little flame.” His voice was low, rich, the kind that curled down her spine and set fire to her nerves. “Comwe, let me see what shadows made of you.”
Serenya’s pulse thundered, but she walked forward, every step a battle between defiance and the heat curling traitorously in her chest.
- Writer
