Chapter 2 — River of Shadows
Dawn crept slowly across the ruined kingdom, brushing the jagged stone walls with pale light. She woke to the soft murmur of the wind through broken towers and the distant growl of the male beasts patrolling the outskirts.
Her body ached from the journey, her skin sticky with sweat, mud, and the debris of the forest. She had never felt so filthy in all her life. Tentatively, she stepped outside, looking for a quiet place to wash before the male beast leader demanded her obedience for the first time.
He appeared silently behind her, as if he had always been there, his tall form casting a long shadow over her small frame. Two meters of power and control, black curls glinting, eyes sharp and unyielding.
"You reek of the forest," he said simply. "You'll bathe. Now."
Her cheeks burned. "I… I don't have… proper clothes," she whispered, glancing down at the tatters clinging to her frame.
He didn't answer. Instead, he took a bundle from his side, unwrapping it to reveal a simple tunic—black, soft, and impossibly large for her tiny frame.
"You'll wear this," he said. "It protects modesty, and it will serve for the first days. Obey."
She swallowed nervously and nodded, stepping behind a large boulder by the river that snaked through the ruins. The water was cold, biting, but refreshing, washing away the grime and leaves tangled in her hair. Her reflection in the rippling surface startled her: mud-streaked cheeks, wide foal-like eyes, and hair damp and clinging to her pale shoulders.
When she stepped out, the tunic swallowed her tiny body, sleeves dragging past her hands, hem brushing her ankles. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her elbow with a firm but careful grip.
"Stand straight," he said, voice low and commanding. "Do not shrink. You are not prey. Not here."
Her heart thumped in her chest. She had never been commanded like that before, and yet… there was something in the way he held her, protecting but asserting dominance, that made her feel both afraid and strangely secure.
She adjusted the tunic as best she could, tugging at the sleeves and watching him silently. He didn't offer comfort, didn't soften his gaze—but she caught a flicker of something unreadable in his yellow eyes, like he was studying her very soul.
"You are… fragile," he muttered. "But that will change."
"Y-yes, my lord," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He released her and stepped back, letting her finish. The moment felt charged, almost electric, as the morning sun glinted off his hair, and the shadows of the ruins danced across the water.
She looked up at him, nervous but curious. Why does he watch me like that? she wondered. Why does his presence make my chest ache?
For the first time, she realized that surviving in this kingdom would not only require obedience and caution—but also learning to navigate the intense, consuming presence of the one who now held her fate in his hands.
And deep down, hidden beneath her fear and awe, a tiny spark of something else began to stir—a blend of fascination, longing, and an unfamiliar warmth that she could not name.