08. A Life Bound to Darkness
1614 Words
THE DOOR suddenly swung open.
An elderly woman entered. Despite her age, her commanding aura had not diminished.
Xiandra’s gaze shifted toward her.
“Slave,” the old woman said coldly. “Didn’t I tell you to force her to eat?”
The servant in front of her lowered her head. “Forgive me, Mistress. I tried, but she refused to eat.”
The old woman stepped closer, her presence suffocating.
“Very well. Call your companions and prepare the bath for this woman.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
The servant quickly left the room.
Xiandra was left behind—with the old woman’s piercing gaze locked on her.
Everything happened so fast.
A sharp slap landed on her right cheek. She wasn’t prepared, but she steeled herself, determined not to shed tears in front of this woman.
“Who is she? Is she like the monster?” Her thoughts screamed.
Before she could recover—
Another slap hit her other cheek. Harder. More painful.
Blood trickled from the corner of her lips.
The old woman gripped her face tightly, her fingers digging into her skin.
“Straighten up, mortal.” Her voice was cold and heavy. Be grateful you’re still breathing. Fix yourself for the prince.” She released her. “Remember, you owe your life to this world. It’s only right that you serve the prince—until your death. Get up. Stop being weak and pathetic.”
Xiandra had no choice but to clench her jaw and meet the old woman’s gaze with burning defiance.
Not even a sob escaped her lips. She felt numb to everything that was happening.
“Go. Bathe her and dress her properly,” the old woman ordered before finally leaving the room.
What kind of life awaited her in this darkness?
A life where mortals like her were nothing but slaves?
Silently, three servants guided Xiandra toward the bath. Their footsteps on the marble floor were almost soundless—like ghosts in the dark. Though their hands were gentle as they held her, Xiandra could feel the weight of their silence.
In the center of the room stood a large wooden basin, carved from the most precious tree of the forest—strong, yet aged, as though it had witnessed thousands of rituals of surrender.
The water inside was as clear as crystal, but beneath its deceptive clarity, it felt as if danger whispered from the depths.
The scent of flowers and herbs filled the air.
Roses. And vanilla.
An aroma that seemed to invite peace… Yet beneath its sweetness lingered a hint of something far more sinister.
“So fragrant… yet it feels cursed,” Xiandra murmured to herself.
She observed the three servants who were busy with their tasks.
They wore long, white dresses—clean but draped in an air of sorrow. Their hair was tightly pulled back into buns, and that’s when she noticed marks on their necks… Bite marks, a silent testimony to their captivity in this oppressive world.
“How do you endure living in this world?” Xiandra whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence of the room.
The three glanced at her but quickly looked away.
“We’ve grown used to it…” one of them murmured softly.
“Sssh!” another hissed. “Didn’t they tell us not to speak to the lady?”
They lowered their heads again, focusing their attention on removing Xiandra’s clothing.
They slowly undressed her. Their hands were gentle, almost like the wind brushing against her skin—yet Xiandra felt the coldness in their every movement.
“And why are you forbidden to speak to me? Have you grown numb, blindly obeying those monsters?”
She tried to stir their emotions, but it was as if their hearts had gone deaf to mercy.
“We only wish to prolong our lives…” one of them whispered softly, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.
A bitter smile tugged at Xiandra’s lips.
“Fools. If it were up to me, I’d rather die… than suffer in this wretched world. Wake up!”
But no response came.
Their souls seemed deaf—empty vessels, merely drifting along the current of fate.
The three servants guided her into the warm water. The heat enveloped her body, as if trying to offer comfort. Yet beneath that warmth was a chilling whisper… like the embrace of death disguised as relief.
They dressed her in a green gown. The fabric was woven from the finest threads of the kingdom’s most precious cloth. It was crafted for a queen… or for a sacrifice.
The servants adorned her from head to toe.
Her hair was styled like a crown atop her head.
Her skin glowed under the soft flicker of the candlelight.
“What is the occasion?” Xiandra asked coldly, masking the unease in her voice.
“Ah… a visitor is coming,” one of the servants replied softly, “and everyone is preparing for the newly awakened prince.”
“Huh! So they’re capable of such things…” Xiandra scoffed, her tone laced with disdain.
But no matter how hard Xiandra tried to remain strong, the fear in her heart was like an ocean, slowly drowning her courage. Before she could brush off her unease, the door at the far end of the room creaked open. A cold breeze swept in, sending a chilling sensation across her skin.
She froze. Slowly, her gaze drifted toward the door… and there, a shadow emerged.
A tall figure. Standing. Motionless. His presence seemed to drain all the light from the room. The three servants immediately bowed and hurried out, their fear palpable in every step they took. The heavy footsteps of the newcomer echoed in Xiandra’s ears—none other than the monster who feasted on her every night.
But he looks different now. Far from the savage, bloodthirsty creature she had first encountered in the forest. Now, he was more refined… more dangerous.
His strength was fueled by her blood.
But… was it true? Had he really awakened from his deep slumber?
“But… how?” Xiandra whispered to herself, struggling to suppress the fear coursing through her veins.
“I’m thirsty.”
Zacheus’s voice was cold—an unsettling blend of menace and seduction.
Before she could utter a word, his hand had already snaked around her waist. Xiandra flinched, but an unseen force seemed to hold her in place, preventing her from pulling away.
“D-Don’t…” she whispered weakly, but it was as if he didn’t hear her.
In a heartbeat.
In a single heartbeat, his fangs pierced her neck. But…
No pain.
No sting.
The only thing she felt was the coldness of his lips brushing against her skin.
Instead of pain, a strange sensation crept through her core—an intense heat that seemed to burn through her very soul.
“Why… do I feel like I’m enjoying this?” her mind whispered, but she couldn’t move.
What kind of magic had he placed on her?
And why did she feel more at ease in his embrace—when it was something she should despise?
Xiandra gripped the prince’s shoulders, not to push him away… but to steady herself.
“No… I shouldn’t…”
Yet her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Despite everything, her body seemed to crave the cold touch of the monster draining her blood.
She quickly pushed Zacheus away.
He stepped back, his lips stained with blood… but he was smiling.
“How does it feel, human? Does it taste good?” he taunted, wiping the traces of blood from his mouth with a white cloth.
Xiandra instinctively covered her neck. But when her fingers brushed against her skin, she felt nothing.
“Nothing?!” Her eyes widened in shock.
“What… did you do to me?!” Her voice trembled, but the warmth coursing through her body refused to fade.
“Calm down.” Zacheus’s voice was cold—laced with seduction and danger. “I merely lent you my mother’s enchanted necklace.”
Xiandra’s hand flew to her neck. A necklace?
“It carries ancient magic.” He stepped closer, his gaze burning into her soul. “No one will be able to smell your blood… except me.”
“And…” He paused, a dangerous smirk curling on his lips. “You will no longer feel pain… or any suffering from me. Because I’ve marked you.”
Xiandra’s world stopped.
“Marked… me?”
Slowly, she lowered her hand from her neck and saw it—a symbol etched into her skin, shimmering between light and darkness.
“Correct.”
A chilling whisper pierced the silence.
“No one can touch you… except me.”
Zacheus’s voice brushed against her ear—a sinful melody that enveloped her entire being.
“Your blood belongs to me, Xiandra.”
Xiandra gasped.
“H-How do you know my name???” she exclaimed, her voice barely believing what she heard.
But instead of answering, Zacheus merely offered a dangerous smile. Cold. Alluring.
“Prepare yourself to go down.”
Before she could utter another word, he turned away.
“My guests are arriving.”
A final command… before he disappeared into the darkness beyond the door.
Xiandra stood frozen, her body weak as her hand instinctively touched her neck, still feeling the strange warmth from the mark.
She stared at her reflection, confusion clouding her mind as her eyes landed on the necklace around her neck… A necklace that now seemed to hold a secret that bound her very existence.
- Writer
