Chapter 3: The Collar and the Curse
The chain of silence between them stretched taut with every footstep Elira took behind the imposing figure of Lord Thorne Vaelric. The manor swallowed them whole — endless corridors twisting like the veins of some slumbering beast, walls adorned with fading portraits that seemed to watch her, judging, waiting.
She kept her head down, fists clenched at her sides. The cold stone beneath her bare feet bit into her skin. She hadn't been offered shoes.
Thorne led her deeper, past veiled windows and closed doors. The light grew dimmer, flickering with the soft hiss of wall sconces. At last, he stopped before a tall, iron-bound door carved with an archaic sigil — a rose pierced through the heart with a fang.
"Elira," he said without turning, his voice a dark velvet. "Do you know what this is?"
She stared at the door. "No, my Lord."
His head tilted slightly, and though she could not see his face, she could feel the amusement ripple from him.
"It is the binding chamber. You took your brother's place, did you not? Then you shall bear his curse."
She flinched, heart tightening. "I said I'd serve. I didn't—no one told me about a curse."
He turned now, slowly, his eyes catching the candlelight with an unnatural gleam. Crimson, deep as spilled wine. "You offered yourself in a Blood Oath. That is more than service. That is ownership."
Elira's breath hitched. "You can't just—"
"Ah," he interrupted, lifting a single gloved finger. "But I already have."
The door opened on its own with a groan that echoed down the stone corridor. Cold air swept out, thick with the scent of old magic — metallic, heavy, and humming like a living thing.
Thorne stepped aside, gesturing inward.
She hesitated.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You may walk in, or I will carry you."
Elira stiffened and stepped inside.
The room was circular, windowless, the walls etched in ancient runes that pulsed faintly red. At its center stood a marble pedestal, and upon it rested a collar — delicate, silver, inlaid with a single dark stone.
It looked deceptively beautiful.
"That doesn't look like a curse," she whispered.
"No." Thorne entered behind her, the door sealing shut with a whisper. "It looks like a gift. That is how the worst curses are worn — willingly."
He picked it up, held it in both hands as though weighing something far heavier than metal. "This collar was crafted by the first Vaelric. Its enchantments bind the body... and the will."
She stumbled a step back. "I didn't agree to this."
"You agreed to take your brother's place," he reminded her coolly. "And he... was to be collared."
Her throat tightened. "What happens if I refuse?"
Thorne closed the distance between them in two smooth steps. Not touching her — never that — but close enough that she felt the pressure of his presence like a hand at her back.
"Then your life is forfeit. The Blood Oath is sealed. If the bond is not claimed within a day, it consumes the bearer." His voice was low, almost gentle. "You would burn from the inside out."
Elira blinked hard. No escape. No choice. Only fire or submission.
He raised the collar, brushing back the hair from her neck with a gloved hand. She went rigid. Not from the touch — it was brief, impersonal — but from the weight of it all. The chain of fate locking shut.
"I don't—"
"You may kneel," he murmured.
"I won't."
There was the smallest flicker of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Then stand."
He clasped it around her neck. The metal was cold—then blistering.
Elira gasped, knees buckling as magic surged through her spine like lightning. The runes along the wall blazed red. Her fingers clawed at the collar, but it was already sealed. The stone at its center pulsed once—twice—and then went still.
She collapsed to the ground.
He didn't help her up.
"You will feel it every time you disobey," Thorne said calmly. "It will tighten. Burn. And if you attempt to remove it, it will kill you."
She breathed in ragged bursts, vision blurry.
"You monster," she hissed.
He crouched beside her, not cruel, but not kind either. "No, little dove. Not yet. But this house will make one of us into one."
He stood and walked to the door.
Then, he added without looking back, "Sleep well. The collar takes your strength on the first day. You will be weak. I suggest you do not test it too soon."
The door shut with a slow finality.
And Elira was alone.