One morning, I found another note waiting for me in the kitchen.
Buy meat. Pork and beef. Fresh.
I folded the paper carefully and slipped it into my pocket. Leaving the mansion, even for something small like shopping, always felt like a relief.
Outside, the air felt lighter. The iron gates closed behind me with a dull sound, and for a moment, my chest felt less tight. The world beyond the Arya residence moved normally—cars passing, people talking, life continuing without fear of what might be hidden behind locked doors.
The supermarket was nearby. I bought the meat on the list, choosing carefully, my mind strangely quiet for once. On my way back, I stopped at a small convenience store.
Just for a moment.
I bought myself a drink and a pastry and sat near the window, watching people walk by. Students laughing, couples talking, someone scrolling through their phone without a care in the world.
Normal things.
I hadn't realized how much I missed that.
As I took a sip of my drink, my phone suddenly vibrated.
I froze.
Slowly, I looked down.
Signal bars.
"…There's signal here?" I whispered to myself.
There was never any signal at the Arya residence. Not even enough to send a message. That was why I hadn't spoken to anyone since I started working there.
My phone rang again.
I answered immediately.
"Bia?" My voice sounded softer than I expected.
"Sabrina!" she exclaimed. "Finally! I thought you vanished."
I laughed quietly. "I didn't. I swear."
"You disappeared," she said. "No messages, no calls. I was worried."
"There's no signal where I work," I explained.
"Where do you work?" she asked. "You never really tell me."
"It's a private residence," I said. "An old family. Big house."
"That already sounds uncomfortable."
"It kind of is," I admitted.
She hummed. "So how are they treating you?"
I hesitated before answering. "They don't really talk to me. They leave notes. I do my job.That's it."
"That's lonely."
"It is," I said quietly.
"What about the house?" she asked. "You sound… tired."
I stared out the window. "It makes noises at night."
"Noises?" she repeated.
"Chains," I said. "Growls. Heavy breathing."
"Sabrina… that's creepy."
"I know."
"Are you safe?"
"I think so," I replied. "Nothing's happened. It's just… unsettling."
"Promise me you'll be careful," she said.
"I will."
We talked a little longer after that—about her job, a show she was watching, small things that reminded me of the life I had before.Hearing her voice made my chest ache in a way I couldn't explain.
"Call me again when you can," she said gently.
"Okay?"
"I will," I promised.
The call ended.
I stared at my phone for a moment before standing up. The grocery bags felt heavier when I picked them up.
The walk back to the Arya residence was quiet.
The closer I got, the more the world seemed to dull, as if color and sound were being drained away.
Mrs Arya's Pov
Midnight was approaching.
I could feel it in the way the house tightened around me, like a breath held too long. The Arya residence always reacted to that hour—walls colder, air heavier, silence thicker. I had lived with it my entire life, yet it never truly became familiar.
Some things shouldn't.
I stood outside the forbidden room, fingers resting against the cold wood of the door. The magic carved into it pulsed faintly, responding to what waited on the other side. It always did when midnight was near.
I pushed the door open.
Moonlight spilled into the chamber, revealing the figure seated at its center. White hair cascaded down her back, luminous in the dim light. She sat on the elevated chair—crafted generations ago, not for comfort, but for dominance. A throne, in all but name.
The chains around her neck glowed faintly, their magic humming, alive and alert.
Her eyes lifted to meet mine.
Red and blue.
Sharp. Knowing. Annoyingly aware.
I rolled my eyes before she could speak.
"Must you always look so pleased with yourself?" I muttered, already irritated by her presence alone.
Her lips curved slightly. "Ah," she said, voice smooth and mocking. "Come to admire your work?"
I ignored the comment and crossed my arms. I had no patience tonight.
"How long do you intend to keep staring at the moon like it owes you something?" I asked.
She leaned back against the throne, relaxed in a way that made my skin crawl. "Five hundred years gives one plenty of time to appreciate small entertainments."
I clenched my teeth.
We had danced this dance for centuries.
She straightened then, eyes sharpening. "Tell me," she said casually, "is tonight the night?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I already knew what she meant.
"Will you finally free me?"
The question was calm. Too calm. As if she hadn't asked it a thousand times before. As if hope hadn't already been crushed under the weight of centuries
I met her gaze steadily.
"Never."
The word echoed in the chamber.
Her expression flickered—just for a moment—before settling into something darker. Amused. Bitter.
"You always say that," she replied. "And you always look so certain. Fear does that to people, I suppose."
My voice hardened. "This isn't fear. It's necessity."
She laughed softly, the sound low and sharp."Is that what you call it now?"
I stepped closer. "You are too dangerous to be freed. You always have been. Your power destroys everything it touches."
Her eyes burned brighter. "Or perhaps," she said slowly, "you simply couldn't control me."
That was enough.
In one swift movement, she stood and lunged forward, her hand reaching out toward me—
The chains reacted instantly.
Magic flared.
She was yanked back violently, gasping as the glowing restraints tightened around her neck.The force sent her to her knees, the sound of metal slamming into stone echoing through the room.
I didn't flinch.
I had learned long ago that mercy only fed her defiance.
The clock struck.
One.
Two.
Three—
Twelve.
The air shifted violently, magic surging as her body began to change. I watched as bones cracked and light flared, her form twisting under the curse she carried.
In seconds, the woman was gone.
A massive white wolf stood in her place, fur bristling, red-blue eyes blazing with rage. The chains still clung to her neck, digging deep as she snarled, teeth bared, breath heavy and wild.
The sound reverberated through the chamber.
She strained against the chains, muscles rippling as she fought them with everything she had. The wolf growled, a deep, furious sound that shook the walls themselves. She pulled once. Twice. Again.
The chains held.
They always did.
I exhaled slowly.
"This," I said quietly, more to myself than to her, "is why you will never be free."
The wolf's eyes locked onto mine, filled with hatred so pure it could have burned me alive if it were fire. Her breathing was heavy, labored, forced into submission by magic older than either of us.
For a moment—just a moment—I felt the familiar weight settle in my chest.
Then I turned away.
I had made this choice long ago.
Without another word, I walked toward the door. The growls followed me, vibrating through the floor, through the walls, through the bones of the house itself.
I didn't look back.
The door closed behind me with a heavy thud, sealing her once more in silence.
Some monsters are born.
Others are imprisoned.
And some… must never be allowed to walk free again.