They woke me before dawn.
I'd barely slept, my dreams filled with shadows and glowing eyes, with hands reaching for me from the darkness. When the attendants came, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself this was all some elaborate nightmare.
The iron bracelet on my wrist told me otherwise.
"Come," the silver-haired woman said. She'd introduced herself last night as Helena. "Your education begins now."
They dressed me in a simple white gown—symbolic, I supposed, of the purity I was meant to bring to this cursed union. My hair was braided and pinned, leaving my neck exposed. Everything about the preparation felt deliberate, ritualistic.
Helena led me down the tower stairs to a room I hadn't seen before. It was circular, like the bathing chamber, but the walls were covered in tapestries depicting...
I stopped in the doorway, heat flooding my face.
"Yes," Helena said dryly. "You'll need to get comfortable with such images. What happens in three days will be far more intense than anything woven into fabric."
The tapestries showed figures entwined in various states of intimacy. But what caught my attention was that in each scene, there was always one woman and multiple men. Four, to be exact.
"Sit," Elder Moira commanded from where she waited by a large table covered in ancient texts and scrolls.
I sat, my hands folded in my lap, trying to ignore the explicit imagery surrounding me.
"You understand the basic mechanics of breeding," Elder Moira began without preamble. "But what you're about to experience is nothing like a normal union between man and woman."
She unrolled one of the scrolls, revealing an intricate diagram—four figures arranged in a circle, connected by lines of what looked like flowing energy, with a fifth figure in the center.
"The Ashenbane brothers," she continued. "Kieran, Dante, Lysander, and Caspian. Once, they were a single being—the original Beast, cursed for his arrogance by a powerful witch he'd scorned. In desperation, he used blood magic to split himself into four, hoping to dilute the curse's power."
"Did it work?" I asked quietly.
"Yes and no. The curse weakened, but it didn't break. Instead, it evolved. The four brothers can't be in the same space—their combined magic becomes volatile, destructive. Over the centuries, they've learned to live apart, each ruling their own territory. But the curse's price remains: without a mate to bind them, to anchor their power, they cannot produce an heir. And without an heir, the bloodline—and their humanity—slowly fades."
She looked at me with those cold eyes. "Every two hundred years, they're allowed to try. One sacrifice, chosen by lottery. If she's their true mate, she can bond with all four. If she's not..."
"She dies," I finished.
"Usually." Elder Moira's expression didn't change. "Though some are simply... returned. Broken, but alive. The brothers aren't monsters by choice, Ava. They don't want to hurt their sacrifices. But the curse demands consummation, and if there's no bond, no true mate connection, the magic rejects the union violently."
My mouth went dry. "How will I know? If I'm their mate?"
"You won't. Not until it happens." She rolled up the scroll. "But there are signs. The brothers will know before you do. Their beasts will recognize you."
Helena stepped forward with a leather-bound book. "This contains accounts from previous sacrifices who survived long enough to document their experiences. You should read it."
I took the book with trembling hands. The leather was worn, stained. How many girls had held this before me? How many had read these words and then walked up that mountain anyway?
"Today, you read," Elder Moira said. "Tonight, you'll meet with a... consultant. Someone who can prepare you for the physical aspects of what's to come."
My cheeks burned. "I don't understand—"
"You're a virgin, girl. Untouched. When four powerful males claim you in succession—or possibly simultaneously—your body needs to be prepared or you'll be torn apart." She said it so matter-of-factly, as if we were discussing the weather. "There are techniques. Exercises. Oils and herbs that will help."
I wanted to disappear into the floor.
"You have two more days," Helena added, her voice gentler than Moira's. "We'll do everything we can to ready you. But ultimately, Ava, your survival depends on one thing."
"What?"
"Whether you're truly theirs."
I spent the morning reading accounts that made my hands shake and my heart race. Most were clinical, describing the journey up the mountain, the separate territories, the different brothers. But some were personal, intimate.
Kieran took me first. His touch was rough, desperate, as if he'd been starving for centuries. And perhaps he had. But beneath the beast, I felt something else. Loneliness. A soul that had forgotten what warmth felt like.
Dante burned like wildfire. Every kiss left marks, every caress ignited something primal in me I didn't know existed. He made me feel powerful even as I submitted to him.
Lysander was patient where the others were urgent. He took his time learning my body like it was a puzzle he intended to solve. And when he finally claimed me, it was with a precision that shattered me more completely than any rough passion could have.
Caspian made me laugh even as he made me moan. He found joy in pleasure—mine and his—and that joy was infectious. With him, I forgot I was a sacrifice. With him, I felt chosen.
The account ended there, mid-sentence, the ink smudged as if the writer had been interrupted. Or taken.
I closed the book, my heart pounding.
These women had felt things for their captors. Desire. Connection. Maybe even something deeper.
Was I supposed to feel that too? Or was I supposed to endure, survive, and hope that my body's compliance would be enough?
A knock on the door made me jump.
"The consultant is here," Helena announced.
I stood on shaking legs, smoothing down my white gown, and prepared myself for another humiliation.
But when the door opened, the woman who entered wasn't what I expected. She was young, beautiful, with dark hair and knowing eyes. And she smiled at me with genuine warmth.
"Hello, Ava," she said. "My name is Sera. Twenty years ago, I walked up that mountain just like you're about to."
My breath caught. "You survived."
"I survived," she confirmed, closing the door behind her. "And now I'm going to teach you how to do the same."
Sera moved through the room with an easy grace, as if she belonged here—or perhaps as if no place could contain her anymore. She gestured for me to sit on the cushioned bench near the window while she pulled up a chair across from me.
"They've filled your head with clinical details, haven't they?" she asked, her voice warm with understanding. "Diagrams and ancient texts and warnings about being torn apart."
I nodded mutely.
"Let me tell you what they won't." She leaned forward, her dark eyes holding mine. "The brothers aren't mindless beasts. They're men—complicated, damaged, powerful men who've been trapped by a curse for over a thousand years. And yes, they need you to break it. But Ava, they don't want to hurt you."
"Then why do so many girls die?" The question burst out before I could stop it.
Sera's expression softened. "Because fear creates resistance. And resistance against that much concentrated magic, that much desperate need..." She shook her head. "The curse punishes rejection. Not physical rejection—emotional rejection. If you go up that mountain expecting monsters, if you wall off your heart and simply endure, the magic will tear you apart trying to force a bond that isn't there."
"But you survived."
"I survived because I was curious instead of terrified. Because I saw them as individuals rather than as one collective threat." She paused. "And because I was honest about what I wanted."
"What did you want?"
A smile played at her lips. "To be seen. To matter to someone. I was a merchant's daughter—forgettable, ordinary. My father barely noticed when they took me. But up on that mountain, with those four brothers..." Her eyes grew distant. "I mattered. Every breath, every heartbeat, every choice I made could tip the balance between salvation and destruction."
"If it was so wonderful, why are you here instead of there?"
The smile faded. "Because I wasn't their true mate. We felt the bond forming—all of us did. But it wasn't complete. After three months, the magic started to reject me. Slowly at first, then more aggressively. Kieran was the one who brought me down before it could kill me." Her hand moved unconsciously to her shoulder, where I caught a glimpse of an intricate scar beneath her sleeve. "He marked me. A protection sigil. It's the only reason I survived the separation."
My chest tightened. "So even if I do everything right—"
"If you're not their true mate, eventually the curse will force you out. But here's what they don't tell you in those books: you'll have time. Time to know them. Time to experience things most women never even imagine. And if the bond does take..." She leaned closer. "If you are theirs, Ava, you'll never want to leave."
"What are they like?" I whispered. "Really?"
Sera's whole demeanor shifted, becoming almost wistful. "Kieran is the eldest. The original. He carries the weight of their curse like a physical burden. He's rough, protective, possessive—but gods, the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not watching. Like you're the first stars appearing in a sky that's been dark for centuries."
She stood, pacing to the window. "Dante is fire and fury. Everything he feels is immediate, intense. He'll challenge you, push you, make you want to scream—and then make you scream for entirely different reasons. He's the hardest to reach, but once you do..." She pressed her hand against the glass. "Once you do, his loyalty is absolute."
"Lysander is the strategist. The one who thinks ten steps ahead of everyone else. He'll study you like you're the most fascinating puzzle he's ever encountered. And he won't touch you until he's certain he can unravel you completely. When he does..." She laughed softly. "You'll understand why patience is a virtue."