đź“–
Elara didn't sleep that night.
How could she? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that shadow—her shadow—screaming as it rushed at her. She could still feel the heat of the seal's power in her hands, still hear Lucien's final words echoing like a warning.
"Next time, it won't be a shadow. It'll be someone you used to love."
She didn't know what that meant. Not yet. But something in her gut told her Lucien didn't make empty threats.
When the sun—or whatever passed for sunlight in this cursed realm—rose over the blood-red skyline, she dressed in silence. Her wardrobe had been mysteriously replaced overnight with new clothes: sleek black pants, a high-collared coat, and a strange pendant with a crimson gem that pulsed faintly against her chest.
It looked like an eye.
She didn't ask questions.
By the time she stepped into the grand hallway outside her chamber, Lucien was already waiting.
"You look well," he said.
"I didn't sleep."
"Good. Sleep is a weakness in this place. You learn more when you're uncomfortable."
"How motivational," she muttered.
He smirked.
Today, he didn't lead her back to the training cathedral.
Instead, they descended—downward—into a part of the estate she hadn't seen before. The deeper they went, the colder the air grew. The walls changed from polished stone to rough, ancient brick.
Eventually, they stopped before a black door with golden chains woven across it.
Lucien turned to her. "Today's lesson won't involve conjuring."
"Good. I'm not in the mood to fight ghosts again."
"It won't be a ghost." He unlocked the chains with a wave of his hand. "It will be someone real."
The door creaked open on its own.
Inside stood a woman.
She leaned casually against a long obsidian table, her arms folded, lips painted the color of dried roses. Her hair fell in thick curls down her back—blood red and glowing faintly. Her eyes were catlike, yellow with slit pupils. And her gaze locked instantly onto Elara with icy precision.
"So," the woman purred, "this is your new pet."
Elara stiffened.
Lucien said nothing.
The woman pushed off the table and walked forward with the grace of a queen. She wore a crimson dress that shimmered like it was woven from fire. Every step she took echoed like a warning bell.
"Elara Quinn, meet Selene. She was once what you are now."
"Was?" Elara asked.
"I outgrew the contract," Selene said smoothly. "But not the man behind it."
Lucien's expression didn't change, but the tension between them filled the room like poison.
"You still hold a portion of the mark," he said quietly. "You haven't outgrown anything."
Selene chuckled. "Then let's say… I evolved."
She turned her attention back to Elara, circling her slowly like a wolf eyeing a new cub.
"You're pretty," she said. "In a fragile kind of way."
"Thanks," Elara replied, forcing herself not to flinch. "You're very… red."
Selene's smile sharpened. "Feisty. I like that. You'll need it."
Lucien stepped between them. "Selene's here to train you in emotional projection. That requires controlled confrontation."
"You mean she's here to mess with my head."
"Exactly," Selene said brightly.
Before Elara could blink, Selene's hand shot forward and pressed against her chest—right over the pulsing pendant.
A surge of heat rushed through her body. Her knees buckled.
And then—
She was back.
Back in her childhood bedroom.
The scent of old perfume, the soft creak of floorboards… Her mother's voice calling from the kitchen downstairs.
"Elara? Dinner's ready!"
Her heart stopped.
She hadn't heard that voice in over a decade.
But this wasn't real.
She turned around—and saw her mother standing in the doorway. Alive. Smiling. Holding out her arms.
Tears blurred Elara's eyes.
"No," she whispered. "You're gone. I buried you."
The smile didn't fade. "Come home, Elara. You don't have to be alone anymore."
Elara stepped back.
"This isn't real."
The bedroom melted away like wax. The warmth vanished. And Selene stood there again, eyes narrowed in amusement.
"You nearly believed it," she said.
"You—" Elara gasped, shaking. "You made me see her. My mother."
"Emotional projection," Selene said. "You'll need to control your attachments. Otherwise, anyone—me, Lucien, worse—can use them against you."
Lucien stepped in. "Enough for today."
Selene pouted. "Already? I was just getting started."
"You were pushing," he said, voice colder now. "She's not ready for your games."
Selene smirked and backed off.
But as she passed Elara, she leaned in and whispered, "He always chooses girls with broken hearts. That way, when he ruins them, no one notices."
Elara said nothing.
But her fist clenched.
Lucien didn't respond to the comment. He simply motioned for Elara to follow.
As the door closed behind them, she looked back once—just once.
And saw Selene watching her with a look that promised one thing:
This isn't over.