Episode 4
1218 Words
Kael's POV
The council chamber stank of fear and delirium.
Even after she was dragged away by the guards, her scent lingered, soft and maddening. It was sweet, like wild honey drowned in fire and clung to the stone, to the walls, and to the inside of my head like a curse.
I hated it.
I hated her.
Lyra.
The name itself burned like acid in my throat. She was everything I despised—light, warmth, innocence. She looked at me like I was something foul, and she wasn't wrong. I am foul. I am everything her kind was warned about in bedtime tales.
But that didn't mean she was allowed to defy me.
The chamber doors shut with a clang as the last of the council fled. Cowards, every one of them. They could sense the edge in my temper and didn't dare breathe too loudly, nor let their delirium over the girl's scent betray them. They had seen what happens when my patience wears thin and knew better than to test its limits.
I turned toward the window, the only one that ever stayed open. Beyond it, my kingdom sprawled below—Nerezza, the land of smoke and stone. Mortals called it the Shadowlands, but its true name was Abythra, the Womb of Hell.
The skies were always black here, as if the world had forgotten what dawn looked like. Flames burned in the distance and the air shimmered with the heat of restless souls.
It was a place that devoured the weak and crowned the cruel. And my kind thrived in the rot of it.
Demons.
That's what the others called us. But we preferred Predorians, born of shadow and molded in blood. We had no need for gods or light. The dark was enough.
And I—I was their ruler.
Kael Dravon, Lord of Smoke and Chains.
The firstborn of the cursed bloodline that traded mercy for power.
When I stormed that wedding, I hadn't expected to see her dressed in white, and ready to belong to another man. I hadn't even known her face until that moment.
I'd only gone to claim what fate had carved into my skin centuries ago. The voice that could shatter realms, the voice that belonged to my fated mate. Her.
Fate. What a joke.
I didn't believe in destiny. Never had. I'd built my empire through fire and death, not the whim of some unseen power. And yet, the moment she sang at the wedding, something stirred inside me. Something that should have been long dead.
The pendant she wore, the mark of the first bond, had proved she was the one. But when I saw her standing there, dressed as another man's bride, something in me snapped.
She was mine.
And that's why I claimed her.
She was also the only thing in existence that could still make me feel.
And that's why she would never leave.
I could still hear her voice trembling with rage in that bedchamber. The way she trembled like a frightened prey and still dared to raise her chin was laughable. And yet, part of me wanted to see how long that defiance would last.
I would crush that pride piece by piece, until she learned that her voice, her will, and her very breath were mine to command. In my world, she would learn to bend. She would learn to yield. And she would forget every word that meant freedom.
Her father would come. Maybe her lover too.
Let them.
I'd crush them beneath my heel and make her watch.
Maybe then she would understand that this was not Silverkeep. There were no alphas, no packs, and no moon to guide her. There was only me.
And I would make her sing again.
But this time, it would not be for celebration or love.
It would be for f*****g mercy.
****
By the time dusk fell over Nerezza, the air was thick with ash and silence. The fires along the cliffs burned low, staining the sky a deep rust-red.
I hadn't intended to see her again so soon. I had more important things to deal with. But then, the chief maid, Ariel, had dragged my attention where I didn't want it.
"She still refuses to eat, My Lord," She had said. "Not a bite since she arrived. And not even the water."
I had told myself I didn't care. Let her starve. Let her throat dry out until she couldn't even sing. What was one weak, stubborn girl to me? But still, I went.
As I pushed the door, it slammed open beneath my hand, crashing into the stone wall. The sound echoed through the chamber, making her flinch.
She was sitting by the window again, the last streaks of dying light painting her face pale. Her wedding gown, which she hadn't even tried to change, now looked filthy and torn while the veil lay crumpled in a corner. Her hair wasn't left out, tangled and falling loosely around her shoulders.
Pathetic.
I hated how human she looked. So fragile and small.
Glaring at the untouched tray of food on the table, I demanded. "Why haven't you eaten? Do you plan to waste my food and my fûcking patience?"
She didn't turn around at first. When she did, her eyes were puffy, but cold.
"I'm not hungry," She said flatly.
I stepped closer, my boots thudding against the floor. "You haven't eaten in two days."
"I don't want your food or your water or anything that comes from you," She snapped, lifting her chin a little. "You took me from my home, from my people, and as long as you keep me here, I'd rather lick the dust off this floor and drink sewer water than touch anything you offer."
She still had fire left in her and I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Very well, then." I said, turning towards the door, "As you wish,"
If she wanted to starve, so be it. I would watch her spirit decay slowly until her pride turned to begging. And when that happened, I'd feed her the dust she craved.
Outside, Ariel was waiting, her old eyes darting nervously between me and the floor. She clutched her hands tightly in front of her apron.
"She won't last long like this, My Lord," She said softly. "The girl is stubborn, but she's still mortal."
"I know what she is."
I started walking down the hall, my cloak brushing the ground behind me while she hurried to keep up.
"She still wears that ridiculous gown," I muttered, clenching my jaw. "Take it off her."
"My Lord?"
"You heard me," I snapped and felt her flinch behind me. "Get her out of that thing. If I have to look at it one more time, I'll rip it off myself."
"Yes, My Lord"
"Prepare her for tonight."
"Tonight?"
"She'll sing," I said simply. "For me. For the council. For all of Nerezza if I f*****g please."
"Yes, my Lord."
Let the girl hate me.
Let her glare and curse and starve. But tonight, she will sing. And when her voice echoes through my halls, maybe I'll finally understand why it has haunted my dreams for centuries. And why it had been fated to drive me f*****g mad.
- Writer
