KISS THE DARK

CHAPTER 2

The woods swallowed her scream.

Selene ran until her lungs tore with fire, the underbrush clawing at her skirts, branches whipping across her face. Moonlight spilled in broken fragments through the canopy, guiding her in flashes, then abandoning her to blind darkness.

Behind her, Lyra’s voice called—soft, coaxing, as though this were a game they had played since childhood. “Selene… don’t run. You know I’ll always find you.”

The sound chilled Selene more than the night air. Her oldest friend’s voice had once been sanctuary. Now it was the sound of betrayal, of chains tightening around her throat.

Her chest heaved. She stumbled, caught herself on a tree trunk slick with moss, and pressed her forehead to the bark. Her thoughts raced, tripping over themselves.

Why?

Why Lyra? Why this?

But the answer came back as silence.

The memory of whispered words returned instead, sharp as broken glass. Her blood is the key.

Selene’s pulse thundered. She didn’t understand, but she knew enough—whatever Lyra wanted, whatever that stranger wanted, it would strip her of everything.

She turned, ready to keep running—

—and froze.

Lyra stood at the edge of the clearing, bathed in silver light. She did not look winded, though Selene’s breath rasped like broken glass. Her golden hair shimmered, her gown untouched by brambles, her beauty otherworldly and untouchable.

It was as if the forest itself parted to let her pass.

“Why?” Selene’s voice cracked, raw from fear and disbelief. “Tell me why, Lyra. After everything—why betray me?”

Lyra tilted her head, studying her with eyes that no longer held warmth. “Betray you? No, Selene. I’m freeing you.”

“Freeing me?” Selene’s laugh tore out, hollow and desperate. “You’ve sold me like an offering! To him—” Her voice broke. “To what is he?”

Riven stepped from the shadows then, silent as smoke, his presence commanding the clearing. His red eyes caught the moonlight, gleaming like coals. He said nothing, but Selene felt the weight of his gaze crush her chest, as though her very soul had been marked.

Lyra’s lips curved faintly. “Do you know what I envy most about you, Selene? Not your father’s estate. Not your gentle spirit. It’s that you were chosen. Born with blood that binds worlds together. You are meant for more than this fragile, fleeting life.”

Selene shook her head, backing away. “No. No, I’m just—just me. You’re lying.”

Lyra’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “Always so naive. Haven’t you felt it? That tug in your veins, that whisper in the dark? That was never madness. It was calling. And now…” Her gaze flicked to Riven. “Now it answers.”

Selene’s heart hammered, her body trembling. “And you? What do you gain from handing me over?”

For the first time, Lyra’s mask cracked. Bitterness twisted her beautiful face. “A place where I belong. Power. Immortality. No longer your shadow, Selene, but your equal—your better.”

The words sliced deeper than any blade. Selene staggered back, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to believe it was a nightmare, that any moment she would wake in her bed and find Lyra laughing beside her. But the truth stood here, cold and cruel, in the friend she had loved like a sister.

“I trusted you,” Selene whispered, her voice breaking. “I loved you.”

Lyra’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. For a heartbeat, Selene thought she saw regret. But then Lyra’s jaw hardened, and she raised her hand.

Selene didn’t see the blade until moonlight caught it.

Her scream split the clearing as steel kissed her skin, a shallow slice across her arm. Blood welled bright and red. The scent thickened the air.

Riven inhaled, slow and deliberate, his eyes flaring with hunger.

Selene clutched her wound, stumbling back. “Lyra—stop!”

But Lyra’s eyes shone fever-bright. “Do you feel it, Selene? The way the night stirs at your blood? You’re not human. Not entirely. You never were.”

“I don’t care!” Selene sobbed, retreating. “I don’t want this—I just want my life back!”

“You can’t go back.” Lyra’s voice was calm, cruel. “There is only forward.”

Riven moved then, so fast Selene barely saw him. One moment he stood apart, the next he loomed before her, his shadow swallowing her whole. His hand—cold as death—caught her chin, forcing her to look into his burning eyes.

“Fragile little flame,” he murmured. “Will you fight the dark… or kiss it?”

Selene’s breath caught. His presence was overwhelming—terrifying, magnetic. Every instinct screamed to run, but her body betrayed her, trembling in place, trapped by the force of his will.

“I won’t,” she whispered, though her voice wavered. “I won’t give in.”

Riven’s smile was slow, chilling. “They all say that.”

Selene wrenched free from Riven’s grip, staggering backward until her spine collided with the trunk of an ancient oak. Her chest rose and fell in jagged bursts, each breath a frantic gasp of life she suddenly feared she would not keep.

“Stay away from me!” she cried, her voice cracking.

Riven did not follow. He merely watched her, his head tilted, his red eyes gleaming with a predator’s patience. It was not pursuit—it was study. As though he were cataloguing her every move, every flicker of defiance, every shiver of fear.

It was Lyra who stepped forward.

Her blade glimmered in the moonlight, still wet with Selene’s blood from the earlier cut. She held it delicately, like an ornament, as if its weight were nothing.

“Please,” Selene whispered, her throat raw. “Lyra, don’t do this. You don’t have to.”

Lyra’s face softened in the moonlight. For a fleeting instant, she looked almost like the girl Selene had known—the girl who had plucked daisies in the meadow with her, who had sworn eternal loyalty beneath a canopy of stars.

But then her expression hardened, the softness snuffed out.

“I do,” Lyra said quietly. “This is the only way I can stand beside you, Selene. Otherwise, I’ll always be behind you. Always the shadow. Always forgotten.”

Selene shook her head violently. “That’s not true! You were never my shadow—I needed you, I loved you—”

“You pitied me,” Lyra snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice the night. “Every smile, every hand you offered me—I saw it. I felt it. I was your burden, your fragile little companion.” Her eyes gleamed wet, but her voice did not falter. “But not anymore. Tonight, I take what’s mine.”

She lunged.

Selene stumbled aside, the blade grazing her ribs instead of sinking deep. Pain flared white-hot. She cried out, clutching the wound as blood slicked her fingers.

“Stop!” Selene’s sobs tore from her throat, ragged and desperate. “Lyra, please—”

But Lyra was relentless. Each strike was swift, practiced, almost ritualistic. It was not a clumsy murder; it was a ceremony, a fulfillment of something long prepared.

Selene fell to her knees, the earth cold and unyielding beneath her. Her breaths came in broken gasps, blood dripping steadily onto the soil.

Lyra stood over her, blade poised above Selene’s heart. Her hand trembled, her lips pressed tight.

“Don’t make me,” Selene begged, tears streaking her cheeks. “Don’t make this real.”

Lyra’s eyes closed for a moment. A single tear slipped free.

Then she drove the blade down.

Agony exploded through Selene’s chest. The air tore from her lungs in a strangled cry. Her vision blurred, the world tilting as the steel withdrew and blood gushed warm across her gown.

Her body convulsed. Her fingers clawed at the dirt. Her heart faltered.

And through the haze of pain, she saw Lyra’s face. No joy. No regret. Only resolve.

“Forgive me,” Lyra whispered.

But forgiveness was already slipping beyond Selene’s grasp.

Darkness crept in at the edges of her sight, thick and suffocating. Her limbs grew heavy, her pulse weakening. The night sounds dulled to silence. The stars blurred above, fading one by one, as though the heavens themselves were abandoning her.

She thought of her mother, long buried. Of childhood laughter. Of stolen moments in gardens under the moon. Of Lyra’s hand once clasped with hers, their promises spoken into the night.

All gone.

Her lips formed a broken whisper. “Why?”

But Lyra had already turned away, her shoulders stiff, her blade slick with betrayal.

Selene collapsed fully, her cheek pressing into the earth, her blood soaking the soil.

And then—another presence.

A shadow loomed. A figure knelt. Cold fingers brushed the hair from her face.

Riven.

His eyes burned like coals, the only light left in her fading world. His voice, low and silken, cut through the haze of death.

“So fragile,” he murmured. “And yet… you cling.”

Selene’s lips trembled. She tried to speak, but only blood filled her throat.

Riven’s hand lingered against her cheek, colder than the night air, yet steadying. “Do you wish to live, little flame?”

Her vision swam. Live? Could she? Her body felt so heavy, her heart too weak. And yet—she wanted to scream yes. She wanted to burn, to rage, to demand justice for the knife in her chest, for the betrayal carved into her soul.

Tears mixed with blood on her lips.

Riven’s expression was unreadable, a mask of ancient calm. “There is a price. You will not be as you were. The sun will forsake you. Your heart will no longer beat as theirs does. You will hunger, you will ache, you will kill.” His gaze pierced her. “But you will live. You will rise.”

His face dipped closer, his breath cold against her skin. “Decide.”

Her mind screamed with images: Lyra’s betrayal. Her father’s cold indifference. The ache of every moment she had been overlooked, unseen. All she had lost.

Selene’s last strength gathered in a single whisper. “Yes.”

Riven’s lips curved into a slow, terrible smile.

“Then kiss the dark.”

He bent, his mouth sealing over hers, fangs sinking deep into her flesh. Pain flared, but it was quickly consumed by fire—searing, overwhelming, burning through her veins as though her blood itself was being remade.

Her scream was swallowed into his kiss.

The night exploded into blackness.

And Selene Veyra died.