Zaria pressed her hand against the crescent-shaped mark, feeling the lingering warmth that pulsed like a heartbeat of its own. The artifact she had touched last night was gone—safely hidden beneath the folds of her uniform—but the residue of its energy lingered, humming beneath her skin, vibrating through her bones. Every step she took across the polished floors of Vane Estate was tethered to it, and through it, tethered to him.
Lucien.
The very thought sent a jolt through her. She hated him. Hated that he had changed her, hated that she was drawn to him, hated that even now, she felt his presence as if it lingered around her like a shadow she couldn't shake.
Focus, she reminded herself, gripping the mop tighter. Morning chores loomed like a battlefield. Dusting the grand staircase, polishing the silver, scrubbing the floors—the routine of servitude had never felt so complicated, so psychologically suffocating. Every glance from Lucien, who had been observing silently from the library balcony above, twisted her stomach into knots. She wanted to flee, to run away from the bond that pulled her closer with every heartbeat. And yet… she couldn't.
⸻
The staff moved silently around her, whispering in hushed tones. She caught fragments of conversations, like the faintest threads of a tapestry she was only beginning to see.
"…don't go near the East Wing," whispered one of the kitchen maids to another. "Staff who wandered there… they never returned. Not even the dogs could find them."
Zaria's heart lurched. The East Wing—the place she had dared enter last night—was more dangerous than she'd imagined. The bond throbbed in response, a warning and a lure all at once. It was as though the estate itself recognized her, acknowledged her presence, and whispered to her in its own dark language.
Her fingers brushed the mark again. It burned faintly under her skin.
The bond… it's alive. It's reacting to me. And I… I can feel it.
⸻
By noon, Zaria had managed to steal a few moments alone, wandering the shadowed halls with her curiosity barely contained. She overheard fragments of conversations that hinted at family secrets and the darker history of the Wolfe bloodline.
"…Lucien's family… dangerous… powers… East Wing…"
"…your father… debt… tied to the pact… bloodline…"
Zaria froze. Debt? Pact? My father?
Her mind raced back to the day she received the letter, to her father's sudden death, to the shame and humiliation that had marked their family. And now, all the threads were intertwining, binding her fate to Lucien Wolfe in ways she had never imagined.
So this… this isn't just about my father's mistakes. It's bigger. It's… inherited.
The realization sent a shiver through her. Her life had always been hard, but now it seemed there were forces at play far beyond her comprehension.
⸻
That afternoon, she was in the servants' quarters experimenting with the bond. Every instinct was heightened. She could hear the distant echoes of footsteps in the corridors, smell the faint perfume lingering where Lucien had walked hours before, even sense the subtle vibrations of the estate's foundation beneath her feet.
The bond isn't just a connection. It's… psychic. Emotional. Maybe magical.
A tingle ran down her spine as she concentrated on the mark. Closing her eyes, she extended her awareness, and the world around her seemed to sharpen. She could detect the faintest tremor of movement in the East Wing, almost as if the walls themselves were alive, whispering to her, guiding her toward the secrets she had uncovered last night.
⸻
And then she saw her.
A shadow moved at the edge of her perception—a staff member she barely knew, cloaked in darkness, watching her with sharp, calculating eyes. Zaria stiffened. The staff member's expression was cold, almost predatory, as if they knew more than they should.
"Who… who are you?" Zaria demanded, her voice trembling.
The figure didn't answer. They slipped back into the shadows like a ghost, leaving her with a growing sense of unease.
Not everything here is as it seems, she thought. And not everyone is on my side.
⸻
The rest of the day was a blur of heightened senses and small experiments. Zaria tested the mark, extending her awareness beyond the room. She felt herself sensing danger before it arrived, detecting shifts in the air, subtle vibrations that warned her of approaching footsteps. Her strength surged unexpectedly, allowing her to lift a heavy vase with ease, her reflexes sharper than they had ever been.
This… power. It's real. And it's mine… in a way.
But even as she explored it, the bond pulled at her relentlessly. Every thought of running from Lucien, every fleeting desire for freedom, was countered by the sensation of being drawn inexorably toward him.
I hate him, she repeated to herself, over and over, though her heart betrayed her. I hate him… but I can't escape him.
⸻
Evening fell, and the estate was cloaked in shadow. Zaria found herself in the library, ostensibly cleaning, though her eyes continually drifted to the tall windows overlooking the East Wing. The wind whispered through the open panes, carrying a faint scent of earth and decay. She shivered. Something was coming. She could feel it in her bones.
Lucien appeared then, silent and imposing as always. His golden eyes scanned the room, settling on her.
"You've been experimenting," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.
"I… I needed to understand," she admitted, heart racing.
"You have no idea what you're playing with," he replied, stepping closer. The bond reacted violently. Heat radiated from him, searing her senses. "The East Wing isn't just a wing. It's a history. A power. And now… it's responding to you."
Zaria felt a shiver run down her spine. Responding to me? Why?
⸻
The conversation was interrupted by a sudden, chilling noise—a faint creak, like a floorboard giving way under a weight that wasn't there. Both of them froze. Zaria's heart hammered. The bond surged, glowing faintly beneath her skin, tugging her toward the East Wing.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "Stay here."
But Zaria couldn't. Her curiosity, her instincts, and the bond itself propelled her forward.
She moved quietly, slipping down the shadowed corridors toward the East Wing, following the faint vibrations only she could sense. The air grew colder, thicker, almost tangible with tension. The walls seemed to close in, whispering warnings she couldn't fully decipher.
And then she saw it—a shadow, darker than the darkness itself, moving near the far end of the corridor. It paused, as if sensing her approach.
Zaria's pulse raced. Who—or what—is that?
⸻
Suddenly, the shadow moved faster than she could comprehend. The bond pulsed violently, almost pulling her toward it. Her reflexes reacted instinctively. She dodged a swinging object—an iron candelabra that had fallen from the wall—landing on her feet with a grace she hadn't known she possessed.
The shadow lurked closer, and she realized with a jolt: it was not human. Its eyes glowed faintly red in the darkness, and a low growl emanated from deep within it.
Zaria's heart pounded. So the estate isn't just haunted—it's protected. Or… it's hunting me.
⸻
Lucien appeared at her side, his expression unreadable. "Step back," he commanded. The bond flared in response to his presence, the warmth and the danger mingling. He moved with supernatural speed, placing himself between her and the shadow.
"You don't understand," he said, voice taut with restrained power. "This isn't just a threat to you. It's a threat to everything you care about. And now… it knows you exist."
Zaria's stomach twisted. The bond pulled her toward danger, toward the East Wing, toward the unknown. She realized she could not ignore it. She could not run. And she could not escape Lucien.
⸻
By nightfall, the shadow had vanished, leaving only silence and tension in its wake. Zaria sat in her quarters, trembling, the bond pulsing beneath her skin like a living heartbeat. Her thoughts raced: her father's connection, the journals, the artifact, Lucien's warnings.
She had survived the day, but the estate had marked her. The bond, the mark, and the shadow's presence had all confirmed it. She was tied to Vane Estate in ways she did not yet understand.
And Lucien Wolfe… he was no longer just a threat. He was a part of her.