"𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑽𝑼𝑺: 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑮"

“𝟓: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑩𝑺𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑺”

On the massive monitors surrounding the room, live feeds of familiar places were streaming. The street of my old house, the entrance to the cafe I visited every day, even my bedroom window... But the real blow was on the walls.

The walls were covered with photographs of me. Hundreds of frames—me carrying coffee in the cafe, walking distractedly on the street, even sitting alone on a bench during that rainy night abroad. Beneath them were meticulously kept notes:

“Lyon - February 14: Still afraid but doesn’t show it.”

As I approached the desk, my breath hitched. Every single one of my friends’ names, surnames, workplaces, and photos were filed in a list. He knew more about me than I knew about myself. Corvus hadn't just watched me; he had analyzed every second of my life like a laboratory rat. On the main computer screen, a folder glowed:

"ELARA".

I moved the mouse with a trembling hand and clicked. Suddenly, that familiar, deep voice echoed through the room’s speakers. Corvus was there, or his presence was etched into every atom of this room:

"Welcome, Elara. Are you ready to meet your own truth?"

Amidst the files on the desk, a small silver box caught my eye. I couldn't stop my fingers from shaking as I opened the lid. Inside was the only heirloom from my mother, the necklace I thought I had lost while fleeing Lyon. My breath caught in my throat. This necklace should have perished in that fire. Corvus had pulled it from the ashes. He hadn't just watched me; he had added my pain to his collection.

At that moment, a shadow appeared in the doorway. I didn't need to turn around; the scent of smoky cologne and the sudden change in air pressure screamed his arrival.

"Do you like my collection, Elara?"

Corvus asked. His voice was calmer than ever, yet possessively sharp. I turned to him quickly, clutching the necklace.

"You’re sick!"

I screamed, my voice echoing in the empty room.

"All of this... these photos, the people in my life... You didn't just follow me; you lived my life! Who are you, and why me?"

Corvus walked toward me with heavy strides. In the dim light, the bottomless darkness in his eyes looked raw for the first time. He stood right before me, gently but authoritatively taking the necklace from my hand and placing it back on the desk.

"I am the guardian of that past you’re running from, Elara,"

he said, leaning in.

"Why did I choose you? Because you are the only thing that survived that fire, and I... I only deal with things that rise from the ashes."

He slowly placed his hand on my cheek. This time, I didn't—couldn't—pull away. His eyes were locked onto mine.

"Do you understand now? You aren't a debtor to me. You are my greatest unfinished piece."

When Corvus withdrew his hand from my cheek, it felt as if the strength in my body vanished with him. My knees buckled, and I found myself on the ice-cold marble floor of the secret room. As the chill climbed from my knees to my soul, Corvus had already vanished into the darkness.

I struggled to my feet. As I dragged myself toward my room, I paused at the muffled sounds coming from the corridor. Corvus’s harsh, authoritative voice mingled with the brief responses of the guards.

"Seal every exit. Not even a bird flies out!"

His voice echoed like a sledgehammer, reminding me once again that I wasn't a guest in this house—I was a priceless captive. I entered my room and leaned my back against the wood. I waited for the sound of the lock... and it came. That metallic click was the final curtain drawn between me and the world.

As I lay in bed, sleep was miles away. I tossed and turned, searching for a threat even in the rustle of the sheets. Then, I sensed movement in the hallway. A faint, metallic sound echoed at my door, like a locking mechanism turning slowly. Heart in my throat, I closed my eyes instantly. I regulated my breathing and stiffened my body. I was doing what I did best: faking sleep to survive.

The door opened with profound silence. The smoky, ashen cologne signaled his entry. His footsteps advanced slowly on the marble floor and stopped right at my bedside. I forced myself not to hold my breath as the edge of the bed dipped under his weight.

I felt Corvus’s hand in my hair. His fingertips slid through the strands with a narin touch—as if touching porcelain—yet with a dominant possessiveness. He leaned down and whispered into my ear, his hot breath scorching my skin:

"Closing your eyes won't silence your mind, Elara. But do not fear; I know how to love your darkness too."

The ice-cold kiss he left on my forehead remained like a seal on my soul. He rose silently and left. I heard the door lock again. In that moment, I realized: to Corvus, I wasn't just an obsession; I was a destiny planned down to the very second.

When the sun rose over Istanbul in a dirty grey, I had memorized every pattern on the ceiling. At the sound of the lock, I sat up. It wasn't a servant; it was him. Corvus entered in a razor-sharp black suit, carrying a tray. His eyes locked onto mine, red from lack of sleep.

He placed the tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of my bed. He reached out and gripped my chin; as his fingers sank into my skin, there was nowhere to run.

"I hope a sleepless night has cleared your mind, Elara,"

he said, his voice as cold and searing as the morning air.

"Because today is the first day of the rest of your life. From now on, I will decide what you wear, what you eat, and who you speak to."

I tried to pull my chin away, but his grip tightened.

"You are not my owner,"

I spat.

Corvus leaned in, his lips so close to mine that every word felt like a brand on my soul:

"Not your owner, but your destiny, Elara. When you walked out of that fire that night, you owed your breath to me. And I never leave without collecting my debt. Now, finish this and come downstairs. I want you to wear the dress I had prepared for you; because today, we are going to show the world who stands by my side."