The corridor stretched endlessly, lit only by weak torches that sputtered as if they too were suffocating. Adrian walked slowly, each step echoing against the stone, a hollow sound that reminded him of a coffin lid being nailed shut. His hands trembled, though he clenched them into fists to hide the weakness from himself.
Selene's words still burned in his ears. You belong to me. Every breath. Every thought.
He tried to shake them off, but they clung to him like chains. The memory of her grip on his chin, the way her eyes had pinned him as if he were nothing but an insect struggling beneath glass—these were not easily banished.
And yet, beneath the fear, another memory persisted: Cassia's lips, warm and trembling against his. The courage in her whisper: She'll never have your soul. That memory was both salvation and torment. It gave him strength even as it reminded him of how perilous his position had become.
What if Selene already knew?
He stopped, pressing his back against the cold wall, his breath shallow. What if Liora's warning had not been kindness but manipulation? What if she wanted to use his rebellion for her own advantage? In this house, trust was more dangerous than betrayal.
The torch beside him flickered violently, as if responding to his doubt. For a moment the shadows around him thickened, forming shapes—faces half-formed, mouths twisted in silent screams. He blinked and they dissolved, but the unease remained.
He pushed himself forward, deeper into the corridor. He was not sure where he was going—back to his chambers, perhaps, though part of him dreaded being alone. Alone, his thoughts multiplied like rats in the dark, gnawing at him from every direction.
Halfway down the passage, he heard footsteps.
He froze.
The sound was light, almost delicate, yet purposeful. Someone was following him.
"Adrian."
The voice was soft, hushed, but unmistakably female. He turned sharply.
Liora emerged from the shadows, her gown pale, her hair loose over her shoulders. She looked younger in the dim light, almost fragile, but Adrian knew better than to be deceived. Every woman here wore a mask, and fragility was the most dangerous of all.
"What do you want?" His voice came out harsher than he intended.
She raised her eyebrows, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Is that how you greet the only one willing to risk speaking to you alone?"
"I don't need your help," he said quickly, though even as he spoke the words he felt the lie.
Liora stepped closer, her eyes glittering. "Don't you? You looked ready to collapse at the table. Selene nearly devoured you in front of us all. You think she hasn't noticed the distance in your eyes? You think she won't punish you for it?"
Adrian's throat tightened. "You're trying to frighten me."
"No," she said softly, almost sadly. "I'm trying to prepare you. Selene will test you, Adrian. And when she does, you will break. Unless…"
She let the word hang, her gaze steady.
"Unless what?" he demanded.
Her lips curved. "Unless you have an ally."
Adrian stepped back, suspicion flaring. "Why you? Why risk anything for me?"
For the first time, her expression faltered. Something flickered across her face—bitterness, perhaps, or longing. "Because I know what it means to be owned by her," she whispered. "I know the weight of those chains. And because you… you are not like the others. You still fight."
Her hand brushed against his arm, light as a feather. He flinched but did not pull away.
"I don't trust you," he muttered.
"Good," she said, almost smiling again. "Don't. But remember this: Selene doesn't destroy you all at once. She unravels you slowly, thread by thread, until there is nothing left but devotion. If you want to keep even a fragment of yourself… you'll need me."
Adrian stared at her, torn. Every instinct screamed not to believe her, not to give in to another's web of manipulation. And yet, her words struck too close to truth. He was unraveling. He felt it with every breath.
Before he could answer, a sound broke the tension—a low creak, like a door opening somewhere down the corridor. Both of them stiffened.
Liora stepped back quickly, her face hardening. "Not a word of this," she hissed. "Not to anyone."
Then, like a shadow dissolving into darker shadows, she slipped away, leaving Adrian alone again.
The corridor felt colder now.
He stood still, listening, but the sound did not return. At last he forced himself onward, until he reached his chambers.
Inside, the air was thick, heavy with the faint scent of incense. The fire had burned low, casting long, skeletal shadows across the walls. Adrian shut the door, leaning against it as if to keep the whole world at bay.
But the world followed him in.
Selene's voice in his memory. Cassia's kiss. Liora's warning. All of it collided within him, leaving him trembling, caught between defiance and surrender.
He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. He tried to pray—though to what, to whom, he no longer knew. His prayers felt like words tossed into a void, swallowed without echo.
"Whose prisoner am I?" he whispered again.
The silence gave no answer.
Only the shadows shifted, and for an instant he thought he saw her—Selene—standing in the corner, watching. But when he looked again, the corner was empty.
Still, the sensation lingered. The certainty that he was never alone, never unwatched, never free.
And somewhere, faint but undeniable, he felt the stirrings of addiction tightening its claws.
The memory of Selene's grip was not only terror. It was something else too—something he dared not name.
Something that frightened him more than all the rest