Lucrezia's heart ceased momentarily, as she stared at those eyes with familiarity within. No words or actions, but pure-bred emotions.
M-Madelyn?
Emotions struck her nerves, stirring her body as she marveled in shock and dread. What was she doing here?!
The shock permeated her entire body priming her to bolt. Lucrezia wanted to step out and yell, scream, warn her of the danger of crossing the den of the Devil's Bone, and abode of their enemy, but couldn't. It was as though her body became paralyzed in a spot.
This wasn't Veximoor. It was Dreadwyn, the welcoming path to hell. If she were here, could that mean...
Lucrezia looked behind, hoping to see her father's Betas. Have they come to save her? Have they finally realized their mistake in marrying her to the Lord of Dreadwyn?
The courtyard threshold was crowded with the House's soldiers, their armor glinting dully beneath sunlight, however, not a single familiar face stood among them.
Expecting to see them, Lucrezia was met with the hard faces buried under their helmets. No wolves, no warriors answering to the call to war, and no army marching in defiance of the Lord's reign but Madelyn, shackled to the cold stone floor with her wolf form trembling against the weight of the invincible chains that bound her.
Lucrezia's breath caught in her throat. For a fleeting moment, she had dared to hope if her father would finally come to reason and send for her freedom? But as her gaze swept the courtyard once more, the truth sank deep and cruel that there was no rescue, and definitely no rebellion waiting at the gates.
Only Madelyn.
For a strange reason, Lucrezia's heart clenched, and a ghost smile tainted her lips. What did she expect? She was the cursed one. Her fa-King Vladimir, Alpha of the Secktom pack, wouldn't waste a single breath just to save her. This was her life now.
But as reality dawned upon her, Lucrezia finally adjusted to the unexpected scene. Then why was she here? D-Did she… Did she come all the way here to save… her?
Every fiber of her being was interlocked in apprehension and sheer panic at the thought she refused to believe. She wouldn't dare… wouldn't think to disobey her father.
Madelyn's glacial eyes softened, as if she read her thoughts, confirming them. The emotions; relief—perhaps at ease she was still breathing—pain, pity, guilt… it spurted, permeating over her entire body.
When she was fourteen, Madelyn was brought to the Red Keep to watch over her. The young girl was frightened at first, courteous and more duty-minded than friendly. To many, it was a curse and fear to any who stayed, breathed, or walked near the confinement of the witch. Although it was against the young girl's wish to serve, Lucrezia knew she had no option.
Year after year, Madelyn grew closer than an ordinary servant, and more of a sister. She never acknowledged her to be her 'servant' from the beginning but a girl deprived of a choice.
When stones and curses rained down on the Red Keep, and when the world recoiled from the blood of the Cursed, Lucrezia was never truly alone because Madelyn's laughter, her steady hands, and her soft words, tethered her to the world outside herself, even when boundaries remained, and even when the world was cruel. They bonded like blood, laughed and talked, although there had been too many limitations.
Most werewolves shifted at the age of eighteen but Madelyn bloomed late at twenty-six. It was at that moment she realized the reason young Madelyn was sent to take care of her—because they assumed she was also an outcast.
Initially, Lucrezia held on to that hope that perhaps, she might experience late blooming and prove her father wrong. Prove to the folks and villagers or any who cared to listen, wrong to be a witch but also a late bloomer.
But year after year, that hope flickered, dimmed, and finally faded. Lucrezia lived with the painful knowledge of the curse in her blood, and the torments of every whisper and gossip.
"The witch is here. Cast your eyes ahead, and your mind purified so she may not taint your soul," They whispered warnings in hushed tones when twice in a year, she crossed the roads and headed to the capital.
Lucrezia felt a bit satisfied that she was feared, but the irritation and disgust in the eyes of every mouth saddened her. The revulsion in every face stung more deeply than any curse she could bear.
When Lucrezia faced ridicule, torment, and isolation, it was Madelyn who stood beside her. It wasn't out of duty but of love, but that love would one day demand a price.
Lucrezia remembered the day that it led Madelyn to the chain. It was the last day of visiting her mother, as she walked on the roads that led to the capital but was surrounded by enemies that sought to end the cursed life of a witch.
Madelyn threw herself into the fray, allowing a binding meant to enslave her to strike her instead. From the fatality, it was black magic, and worse of it all, the wielders disappeared, in belief it struck her truly. The magic was cruel enough that Madelyn remained bedridden for two weeks, and final in the sense that she would never shift again.
Lucrezia couldn't believe her ears and tried so hard to request a presence with her father and beg him for a healer for Madelyn's ailment, but as expected, her request fell the deaf ears.
It also tainted her name in the gossip of several Lords and Ladies, servants, and nobles. Why would someone of royal blood find a filth worth saving?
However, she'd always been regarded as nothing like them.
Because at the end, Madelyn had given up her freedom, her wildness, everything to save her. Lucrezia had never feared for anyone the way she feared when she remained asleep because it was loyalty born of obligation, and maybe even anger at the cruel twist of fate—but not this.
Now she found Madelyn caught in her wolf form, restrained by that invincible chain, she felt that memory wash over her and the familiar surge of disbelief, panic, then awe.
H-Her wolf… she breathed in thought, holding the wall firmly for support when her knees buckled. How was it possible?
Lucrezia never doubted Madelyn's strength and endurance, but one thing she knew so well, was the fact that her wolf was entirely gone.
But seeing her here… those unfamiliar red eyes instead of gold, knocked her wholly.
Had her father sent her? For the nth time, that thought crossed her mind and a part of her knew the answer to that question.
She had lived long enough to know this was entirely her choice. Madelyn had come for her—always for her—but this time, Lucrezia feared it was beyond returning.
A painful primal sound tore from the throat of Madelyn's wolf, echoing through the courtyard, breaking her out of her reverie, and for a heartbeat, Lucrezia could not breathe.
Those eyes— glacial red, almost luminescent under the sun—pierced through every barrier she had raised since she'd set foot into Dreadwyn, before looking away. They held animal fury; beneath the feral rage was something painfully human, something pleading, yet something unknown, and her fingers curled against the window frame.
Whatever the magic keeping her captive was, she was in pain. Real pain.
"Don't…" The whisper escaped her lips before she could stop it but vanished into the nothingness unheard.
The wolf's chest rose and fell in ragged heaves and each breath brought a tremor that rippled through the chains as she strained against them again. Her muscles were taut and quivered with the steel biting into her flesh, eliciting more painful growls.
A faint whimper of a beast's snarl followed, but it was fueled in an almost absolute wrath belonging to a deranged varmint, and a cold shiver ran down Lucrezia's spine. W-Was she wrong?
Her eyes unconsciously found him in the midst of the commotion below and her heart skittered full force at his presence.
The funniest thing was the fact that his eyes seemed to have been on her the entire time, watching and gauging from a distance. He was back to wearing his usual golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves, and his mouth absent for her to see. But that surge of darkness wrapped his body tighter than she'd ever imagine. This one was cruel, fierce, and merciless.
Just like the Devil.
Lucrezia's breath hitched in response. She swallowed down the last trace of hope that clung to her tongue and watched him move.
He seemed to bend, shift, and disimbue gravity on his own accord. Only when he break eye contact did air rush back into her lungs once more in a sharp and trembling manner.
The food she had eaten earlier suddenly felt like ashes in her stomach when she clutched her skirt and dragged her feet, quickly following the noise.
"Milady…" Edhira didn't bother asking anymore, when Lucrezia suddenly moved away from the window, and she followed suit.
Something told her something was definitely wrong somewhere. She could feel it, even more the closer they passed through corridors and stone floors. Lucrezia has never felt this hopeless, vulnerable, and the urgency to see someone than now.
She badly wanted to see Madelyn, to confirm with her own eyes that the impossible sight she'd glimpsed from above had not been some cruel illusion, and the only way to do so was by seeing.
Her pulse thudded in her ears as the great doors groaned open ahead of them. Beyond, the courtyard stretched wide, and Lucrezia's fingers trembled as she stepped past the towering arch that opened it, encircled with armored figures whose blades gleamed in the shards of sunlight.
For the first time in two days, Lucrezia finally breathed beyond the walls of her room; however, the air was thick with the feeling of something wrong. The feel of black magic.
Initially, it wasn't what grabbed her attention, but the clear vision of a white wolf struggling against the unbreakable bond holding it in place.
Madelyn.
It took every willpower in her not to thrash forward and wrap her arms around her. Just like he predicted that reaction, a firm hand grasped her arm, grounding her in place, and her eyes stung in unshed tears.
Bound to the stone dais at the center, her wolf form trembled in the cruel grip of invisible bindings. The marks across her flank shimmered faintly where magic had burned through her skin, burning further, eliciting more and more unbearable sound from her throat.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
The voice, smooth as sin and evil wrapped in every word, coiled from behind her. She didn't even hear him coming when her attention had been solely fixed on the white wolf before her.
Lord Vaeron stood, tall and faultless, his gold-etched mask glinting like the face of a false god as he stepped closer until she could feel the cold of him through the silk of her gown.
But all Lucrezia could see truly, was the pain curling every edge of Madelyn's wolf form, sending a wave of despair through her body and her knees weakened.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, to shield Madelyn, to undo what had already been set into motion.
"That is called Noctom, a magic a hundred times powerful to capture beasts of any kind. The more you fight it, the more gradually it weakens your body,"
Lucrezia's face paled at the information and her eyes flickered to his briefly, returning to the persistent white-wolf. Its fur was darkened by blood, and the fresh smell of blood oozed into the air.
"Noctom had been specially designed for werewolves, trapping their companion so they wouldn't shift back. It surges the body with immense strength at first, until it shifts, weakening the wolf at the end. It slowly corrupts the mind, and then its soul. A fastest way to trap the body, and the slowest way to kill one,"
Lucrezia stiffened, growing even paler as she watched the young wolf struggle. Her breath quickened in growing dread, but she couldn't do more than watch, which was becoming more than an eyesore.
"The cycle repeats and repeats, and repeats, until nothing but broken limbs and corpse is left."
As if on cue, the white wolf's distraught scream pierced the air as it thrashed and snapped, baring its fangs dripping with saliva and blood-lustered eyes toward Lord Vaeron.
Lucrezia couldn't breathe anymore, her whole body already shaking from fear but rooted to the ground. The tears she'd prevented for so long spilled across her pale face as she watched the white wolf scream in a heart-wrenching pain, almost matching the one in her chest.
"Please…" she breathed, unable to stand it anymore.
God knows how much she wanted to stop this, stop everything from happening. It was happening so fast she couldn't process anything apart from the pain and the distraught the young wolf passed through. That young wolf who was and is her friend.
More than ever, Lucrezia longed to turn back time, to plead with her never to come for her rescue, but the moment had already slipped beyond reach. Admitting it was something Lucrezia simply couldn't bear.
He looked at her pale face, "Don't plead yet, little wolf. We haven't enjoyed the entertainment yet," It was devilishly calm and final, but it held a tinge of some mischievousness.
Beneath the golden mask, she felt the weight of his smile and her heart clenched so violently she thought it would burst.
E-Entertainment? Her thoughts became a blur at his treacherous comment. H-How was torturing... an entertainment?
"W-Why?" Lucrezia managed to whisper, unconsciously letting a lone tear fall down her cheek.
"Why?" he repeated, almost bored. "Your father must think highly of himself by creating a siege between fate and punishment by giving his beloved daughter to the hand of death," his tone dripped with malignancy and venom at the mention. It sounded almost conventional and the white wolf's ragged breath followed after the short silence.
He began to circle her, "For years, every kind was given freedom and mercy they desired, until they pivoted against one another. Your kind against your kind, and against another, until it's nothing but innocent souls in the cruel hands of death, and wicked ones in its merciful claws. But what King Vladimir failed to understand or rather, at the end," he passed a cold look at the wolf and his tone lowered in the most dangerous and unmerciful voice sending cold sweat down Lucrezia's spine. "…was that no matter how he tries to dodge fate, it always keeps closing in."
Madelyn's wolf snarled in distraught when it convulsed as another wave of magic flared across her, the blue-white veins of the Noctom pulsing beneath her fur. The sound of it burned through Lucrezia's chest.
Before she realized, his gloved hand came to rest just at the curve of her throat in a light, teasing caress that could just as easily become a blade.
"Do you know what's unforgiving?" He asked, staring deep into her ocean-blue eyes as though he could peer through her soul. "She has your scent," It was the unmerciful and suspicious look that got her heart racing wildly. "It was the first thing I noticed when my men dragged her from the western ridge. Slow as poison, fast as a blade, but unnoticeable past my eyes. It was even more interesting to learn that it was your kind; a pure-bred werewolf."
Lucrezia swallowed, parting her lips but no words came in. The pressure in his grip tightened around her neck and she gasped, wide-eyed, attempting to peel his hand off her.
He tilted his head, studying Lucrezia's face. "Tell me, does she belong to you?"
He demanded, his voice low but rough around the edges, those eyes grasping hers in an unforgiving manner.
He looked like he could see through her, even the darkest secret beyond any ordinary eyes and she struggled, a soft cry escaping her throat.
"Ah, I see," He went on. "You always had that peculiar talent for silence. Perhaps, that might change," His hand fell away, and he stepped past her, his boots whispering across the stones.
Lucrezia gasped, drawing air into her lungs as her eyes stung in hot tears and slightly faltered. Her voice died at the restraint of his hands, with lips quivering with words she couldn't form.
He approached the wolf with the grace of an executioner, and the soldiers lining the courtyard bowed their heads as he passed, not daring to lift their gaze.
The white wolf's growl rose in a low, trembling thing of agony and defiance, but even that sound faltered when he stopped before her.
"A clever kind, cautious enough to slip through my watchtower wards in gloom. Imagine my amusement—someone was trying to spy on me in my abode and far interesting to learn it was from the hands of your father,"
The words 'spy' and 'father' rolled off his tongue like venom, soft but deliberate, and he turned to look at Lucrezia.
"And do you wish to know what I do to creatures of your kind?"
Lucrezia's knees weakened. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to shield Madelyn, to undo what had already been set into motion but she could barely even breathe.
With those eyes darkened from the very depth of hell, "I'm going to show you what's done to spies," he said at last, cold, quiet but clear with each word wrapped in dark promise.