Chapter Three – The Palace of Shadows
561 Words
Lyanna awoke on silk sheets in a room too grand to feel real.
Dark velvet curtains hung like silent sentinels, and the air held the faint scent of pine and storm. The bed beneath her was impossibly soft, the fireplace crackling with low flames. She sat up slowly, her body sore, her heart heavier.
Where am I? she thought. Then she remembered—silver eyes, the towering figure, the words that shattered what was left of her certainty.
You’re my mate.
She slid from the bed, bare feet brushing against cold marble. The clothes she wore had been changed—simple but elegant. Her old torn dress was gone.
She didn’t wait for permission. She needed answers. Needed space to think.
Pushing open the heavy door, she stepped into a hallway that stretched like a spine through the heart of the palace. The walls were carved from black stone veined with glowing silver runes—magic, old and powerful. Lycans didn’t just live here. They ruled here.
She wandered aimlessly, tracing her fingers along tapestries that told stories she couldn’t yet read—of kings, wars, beasts, and blood. She turned a corner and nearly ran into someone.
Four women stood in a semi-circle, dressed in silk and arrogance. The one at the center had hair like obsidian fire and lips curled in a venomous smile.
“Well, well,” the leader sneered. “If it isn’t the mutt.”
Lyanna stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. This wing is restricted to lycan blood. You don’t belong here.” Her eyes gleamed with malice. “Or anywhere.”
The others chuckled, their laughter sharp as knives.
Lyanna squared her shoulders. “I didn’t realize curiosity was a crime. I’ll leave.”
But the woman stepped closer, her voice dropping into something colder. “You’re the one, aren’t you? The little werewolf our King brought back.” She looked her up and down like something beneath her boots. “He won’t keep you. You’re just a... wild thing he pitied.”
Lyanna’s stomach twisted. She knew this tone. Had heard it her whole life. But something in her snapped. “And yet here I am. In his palace. Wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed.”
The woman’s face darkened, and for a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then she lunged.
Lyanna braced herself—but before contact, a deep, thunderous growl echoed down the hallway.
“Enough.”
The Lycan King appeared at the far end, his eyes locked on the woman with barely leashed fury.
She instantly bowed her head. “My King—”
“I said enough, Celestia.”
Celestia. Lyanna memorized the name.
The King stalked forward, his presence consuming. “Touch her again, and I’ll forget what little patience I still have for you.”
Celestia’s jaw clenched, but she nodded and motioned for her minions to retreat. They vanished into the shadows, leaving only their poisoned laughter behind.
Lyanna swallowed, unsure if she should thank him or slap him.
“You wandered far,” he said, eyes scanning her. “Curiosity or fear?”
“A little of both,” she admitted.
He gave a slight nod. “Stay near the east wing. That side is safer.”
“From her?” Lyanna asked, still shaken.
His jaw tightened. “From this world.”
- Writer
