In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the main house was like the sea before a storm—deceptively calm, yet troubled by unsettling undercurrents. Lysander spent most of his time in his study or the underground laboratory with Dr. Lin, consumed by the study of the exorbitantly purchased bronze casket. Even Lucian seemed more preoccupied than usual, his comings and goings more frequent, a persistent gravity etched between his brows.
Selene found herself无形地 excluded from this central drama. She knew the casket pertained to the curse binding Lysander, and thus, indirectly, to her own fate. Yet, he clearly had no intention of involving her. She still possessed the tablet with its limited access, but the information available seemed to have hit a wall. Deeper knowledge of the "Eternal Shackle" and the "Ultimate Yin Force" remained firmly locked away.
This exclusion from the truth bred a restless frustration within her. She felt like a moth trapped under a glass bell, seeing the flames outside but unable to reach them, beating its wings uselessly against the transparent barrier.
She had tried, on the rare occasions he returned to the master bedroom to rest, to cautiously probe for information.
"Any discoveries with the casket?" she asked one late night, feigning nonchalance as he emerged from the bathroom.
Lysander paused, towel drying his hair. The damp black strands falling over his forehead softened his usual severity. His gaze, when it met hers, was deep and assessing. "Why the interest?"
She met his look without flinching. "It concerns the 'Shackle' you bear. And my fate seems tied to that 'Shackle.' I believe I have a right to be interested."
She laid their intertwined stakes bare, no longer masking her intent.
Lysander watched her in silence for a few seconds before tossing the towel onto a chair. He walked to the bed but didn't lie down, turning instead to face the dense night outside the window.
"The thing is… troublesome," he finally said, a thread of weariness woven through his words. "The runes are an ancient prohibition. Dr. Lin can only decipher fragments. It holds a peculiar energy field, but it's highly volatile, and… carries a corrosive will."
"A corrosive will?" Selene's heart jumped.
"Yes." He turned, his eyes sharp. "Like a venomous trap. Anyone attempting to unravel it risks having their mind eroded by its negative energy."
Selene drew a sharp breath. Was that why he kept her away?
"Then why are you still…?" She left the question hanging.
A smile, cold and nearly cruel, touched his lips. "Risk and reward are two sides of the same coin. If this casket truly contains residual power or memory fragments of the 'Betrayer' from a millennium ago, then it could be the key to unraveling the 'Shackle.' It's a gamble worth taking."
For power, for freedom from the curse, he would risk everything. Seeing the familiar, wolf-king blend of desperation and obsession in his eyes, Selene felt a tumult of complex emotions. He was her cage, yet was he not himself imprisoned by a far more formidable fate?
"Isn't there… a safer way?" she couldn't help but ask.
His gaze lingered on her face, complex and unreadable, before he finally said, tone flat, "That's not your concern. Focus on yourself."
The conversation ended as abruptly as it began. The icy wall was back, solid and impenetrable.
Yet, the threads of fate often entwine people in the most unexpected ways.
That afternoon, tired from reading in the library, Selene wandered into the adjoining conservatory—a room filled with rare and curious artifacts collected by Lysander over the years. It held everything from antique porcelain to modern art. She rarely visited, always feeling the objects here carried his cold, detached aura.
Her gaze drifted absently to an inconspicuous corner, where a plain stone pedestal held a few small items. One of them made her pupils contract violently—a palm-sized, dull-colored ornament, its material strikingly similar to the bronze casket from the auction pictures. It was shaped like a broken key!
Her heart hammered against her ribs. How was this here? Something Lysander had overlooked? Or was it deemed unimportant?
Compelled by an unseen force, she approached and carefully picked up the small "key." It was cold to the touch, its texture nearly identical to the casket, etched with intricate, ancient runes on a miniature scale.
The moment her fingertips made contact with the markings, chaos erupted.
The "key" seemed to come alive, vibrating faintly. A piercingly cold energy, carrying a fierce, pulling sensation, lanced up her fingers and surged into her body! Simultaneously, she felt it—the unstable, "corrosive" energy field from the underground laboratory, which Lysander had described, seemed to answer a call, turning violently agitated!
"HUM—!"
A low, penetrating hum, seeming to rise from the very foundations, instantly filled the entire mansion! The lights in the conservatory flickered wildly. Paintings rattled on the walls. Delicate ornaments developed hairline cracks.
The "key" in Selene's hand grew burning hot. The frigid energy rampaged inside her, clashing violently with her own Pure Yin Constitution in a way that was both agonizing and eerily… familiar? As if this energy was a forgotten part of her own bloodline.
"Agh…" She doubled over in pain, her consciousness feeling shredded by the invading force.
"Selene!"
Lysander's roar was like thunder at the doorway. He materialized there instantly, his face a mask of unprecedented fury and… a flicker of alarm? He had clearly sensed both the disturbance in the lab and the aberrant energy flare here.
His eyes locked onto the glowing, superheated "key" in her grasp and her pain-wracked form.
"Let it go!" he commanded, his voice cutting. He crossed the room in a stride, his large hand closing over the "key" with irresistible force, trying to wrench it away.
The moment his skin touched the object, a more violent energy discharge exploded around them.
"BOOM!"
An invisible shockwave erupted from the two of them, hurling nearby artifacts in all directions! Lysander grunted, the muscles in his arm cording as he clenched the "key," a feral green light blazing wildly in his eyes as he marshaled his own power to suppress it.
For Selene, the icy energy invading her body found a conduit, rushing violently toward Lysander. It slammed into his own power and, through him, the raging energy from the casket below.
She had become a conduit—a bridge connecting the "key" and the "casket"!
Excruciating pain blurred her vision. Her ears rang with the shriek of clashing energies and Lysander's strained roars. Just before darkness swallowed her completely, she seemed to hear a roar—primeval, saturated with resentment and defiance—echoing directly within the depths of her mind…
Then, nothing.