A knock came before dawn.
Not on the door, but somewhere inside her head. It was a dull and insistent pulse of magic. In a matter of seconds, it woke Aurora from her sleep and called Nyra to her chamber.
"Come," Nyra said.
No explanation. Too busy to get dressed appropriately, Aurora went barefoot, her heart beating faster than her pace. This time, the hallway was cold and dark, as though the walls themselves knew she wasn't going to comfort.
She tried asking once, "Where are we going?"
Nyra didn't answer.
The corridor narrowed. The air grew denser. At the end of the passage, a tall arched doorway awaited them, framed by flickering black torches. The door was unlike anything Aurora had seen in this reality, carved from murky obsidian, the markings shifting just out of focus.
Nyra paused. "You've been summoned."
"By who?"
"You'll know soon enough." She pushed the door open with a single, gloved hand.
All sounds were absorbed by the chamber beyond. It flickered with a faint red light.
Aurora took a reluctant step in.
Shrouded and silent, figures sat along the circular wall, their faces hidden under veils or shadows. Instead of being seen, they were felt. And in the center, not on a throne, but on a modest stone bench, sat a man with silver-streaked black hair and deep red robes.
He was not hideous. He was not growling or armed.
But his eyes pinned her like she was prey that had strayed in of her own volition.
"You are the wolf girl," he said.
His voice was even, almost bored. But it carried the kind of weight that didn't invite correction.
Aurora stayed standing.
"I'm Aurora."
He didn't rise. "You have no titles. No lineage. No bond."
The rest stayed silent and still, as if they'd rehearsed this moment. Nyra had vanished behind the doors.
"You were rejected less than a full moon ago," he continued, eyes scanning her. "Your control is unstable. Your origin is weak. And yet here you are in the heart of this realm. Guarded. Fed. Watched."
Aurora's fists tightened slightly at her sides. "I didn't ask to be brought here."
He ignored that. "He says you matter. That you bear something worth protecting."
There was only one 'he' they spoke of like that — Lucien.
Thorne leaned back just slightly. "I've witnessed two wars and watched kings be turned inside out for less."
His tone did not rise. And if anything, it got softer.
"Some members of this chamber believe you are a prophecy waiting to unfold," he said. "I believe you are a volcano waiting to errupt."
Aurora's throat instantly became fuzzy. However, she did not drop her eyes. "Then why summon me at all?"
That question made him grin sluggishly.
"Because if you are a spark, I'd rather snuff it now than wait for fire."
A wave moved through the room.
"Tell me, girl. Have you awakened yet?" His head tilted. "Has something inside you started to become hungry? Shift? Speak?"
Aurora paused out of caution.
And then she said nothing.
Thorne's eyes narrowed. "So it's begun."
One of the veiled figures finally spoke with woman's voice. "She should not remain here."
"Not all roots grow where they're planted," another murmured.
But Thorne raised a single finger, silencing them.
He got up at last, He was tall and regal with every of his movement precise. He stepped closer to Aurora, and stopped only a foot away.
"If you crumble," he said softly, "you will not break alone. Mighty kingdoms have fallen over girls who thought they were chosen."
He turned and walked away with no further instruction.
The doors opened again behind her.
She hadn't been dismissed.
But she had been warned.
Aurora walked briskly, the voices she'd overheard still echoing in her head. Crimson-born. If she awakens, Lucien will be the first to burn.
Their words hadn't frightened her. Not exactly. But they'd left a steady awareness that whatever this place thought she was, they were preparing for it.
The wall shifted again — her chamber waiting behind it. The wall slid open without a sound as she stepped forward, revealing the same room.
She didn't stop walking.
She intuitively moved around the platform in the middle of the room.
Then she walked toward the side alcove, which she had not yet looked at. Her pace slowed as she entered.
That's when she saw it.
A scroll that hadn't been there before now resting on a pedestal of smooth black stone.
The parchment was thick, sealed with a blood-colored ribbon and a sliver of black fabric threaded through the knot. She didn't have to touch it to know who it was from.
Still, she did.
Her fingers closed around the ribbon. It was warm. She untied it carefully, unrolling the scroll without tearing the thread.
Inside, a single line shimmered faintly on the parchment:
"You've heard enough from others. Come. I'll give you something real."
— L
No signature, just the initial. But it was more than enough.
Aurora stared at the words for a long moment. Not because she doubted — but because she didn't.
He wanted her to come to him. Alone.
And somehow, she already knew the path would be waiting.
She left the scroll behind and turned toward the door again. The wall parted before she could even reach it.
The hallway beyond was not what she recalled anymore. The light had changed and was warmer now. Instead of candles, now there were little crimson jewels encased in the ceiling and they shone continuously and guided her along. The stone beneath her feet had gone warm, as if responding to her choice.
She followed the lights.
She went left, then turned right. It was a lengthy tunnel without any windows or furnishings.
Her memory flash backed: the forest and the voice, "You're mine." But this was different. It wasn't possessive or cruel — just constant.
She passed a series of arched mirrors, each embedded in the walls like windows. None of them showed her reflection. Instead, they showed flickers — movements out of sync with her steps. A tilt of the head she hadn't made. A faint smirk. A flash of crimson eyes that weren't hers.
She didn't stop.
The end of the passage led to a circular chamber that was lit from above by a single floating orb. The walls here were not made of stone; instead, they buzzed slightly, veined with brilliant mineral veins.
Lucien stood in the center of the chamber, clad in black again, with no armor, crown, or ornamentation. Just him.
He didn't smile. Didn't speak.
Just held her gaze.
She stepped forward, slow but deliberate.
There was no greeting. No bow. No acknowledgment of what she had overheard.
Only silence.
And then:
"You made the right choice," he said.
She didn't respond.
He took one step forward, and the chamber door sealed gently behind her.
They were alone now.
And the air shifted.
Something in it changed — not magic, not threat. Something human. Tense.
Her fingers curled at her sides.
Lucien's voice lowered, just enough to settle near her ear, though he hadn't moved closer.
"Tell me, Aurora"
"Did they frighten you?"
"The ones who whispered behind the curtains, did they frighten you or excite you?"
Her heart gave a slow, deliberate beat.
She didn't look away.
"Does it matter?" she asked.
He tilted his head slightly. "It might."
Then silence again.
Lucien stood just a breath away, his hand cupping her jaw, the shadows of his realm bending around them. His thumb grazed her cheek slowly.
Aurora didn't flinch this time.
Her chest rose and fell with shallow, controlled breaths. The voices she had overheard still rang in her memory — "The crimson-born shall split the veils." But here, in front of him, that prophecy felt less like a threat and more like an invitation.
"I know what they said," she murmured, her voice low.
Lucien's expression didn't shift, but the air tightened. "You listened."
"I wandered," she said, eyes holding his. "But yes. I heard them."
"And?"
"And I'm still here."
A pause. His gaze burned into hers, not with anger. Consideration, maybe. Or challenge.
Aurora stepped forward, closing the last inch between them. Her fingers brushed his chest. They were not bold but they weren't scared either. She could feel his power — not just around him, but beneath his skin, humming like a storm restrained by sheer will.
"They think I'm dangerous," she said softly.
"They're right."
"But you don't want me gone."
"No."
Her lips parted. "Why?"
Lucien's eyes dipped to her mouth, just briefly, before returning to her eyes.
"Because I'm not afraid of danger," he said. "And I don't fear what you might become."
Aurora's pulse raced from the awareness threading between them.
Then deliberately, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn't soft or hesitant. It was a choice and she poured all the pressure of her uncertain world into it.
Lucien responded in kind. His hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her still as he deepened the kiss. Heat rumbled low in her belly as his mouth claimed hers. It wasn't possessive. It felt like he could take more but wouldn't.
His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. She didn't fight it. Didn't flinch. Her fingers clutched his shirt, holding on as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.
But just as her body began to melt into his, the door to his chamber slammed open.
They broke apart.
A tall figure stood in the doorway, framed by torchlight. His presence filled the space before he even stepped in — cold and commanding.
Thorne.
His gaze swept the room, landed on Lucien, then Aurora, and stayed there.
"So this is how it begins," Thorne said flatly.
Aurora backed up a step instinctively. Lucien didn't move.
"You said you brought her here for protection," Thorne continued, walking in without invitation. "But I see now you brought her here to burn everything down."
Lucien's eyes flicked toward him. "Careful."
"No," Thorne snapped. "Not this time. She's not one of us, Lucien. And every second she stays here, the realm feels it — cracks forming. Lines shifting."
"She hasn't even awakened," Lucien said coolly.
"But she will," Thorne growled. "And when she does, it won't be just you who pays."
Aurora stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm right here. You don't have to talk around me."
Thorne turned, his stare sharp enough to cut. "You don't understand what you are. What you'll cost us."
"I didn't ask to be brought here," she shot back. "But I'm not hiding either."
The silence between Lucien and Thorne was heavy with things neither would say aloud..
Lucien finally spoke again, "Enough for tonight. Leave."
Thorne didn't argue. But he didn't bow either. Just turned and walked out. He didn't speak, but his presence was heavy with warning.
When the door clicked shut, the silence felt denser than before.
Aurora sat back down, heart pounding. Lucien didn't approach her again. He just watched her for a moment longer, then said only one thing before he vanished into the shadows.
"Remember what you heard."
And then he was gone.