The carriage rocked violently beneath Aurelia, the wheels grinding against the uneven forest path.
The air was thick with the scent of old leather, sweat, and crushed leaves.
Even though Sorana sat beside her with a stiff posture and annoyingly calm breaths, Aurelia kept her eyes glued to the tiny window, refusing to meet Sorana's gaze. She still hadn't forgiven her for Felicia, and she doubted she ever would.
Compared to Calvus's stare—compared to the way his eyes clung to her like claws—this cramped, suffocating carriage almost felt like a sanctuary.
Aurelia breathed out slowly, trying to silence the frantic pounding in her chest. She whispered to herself so quietly that Sorana wouldn't hear, her voice trembling as it slipped between her teeth.
I'm safer here. He won't look at me here. He won't stare at me like that again. He's a human betrayer. I don't trust him. I don't care what he thinks, and for all I know, he killed Gaius and is lying about everything, just like the rest of them.
The forest grew darker, the trees thicker, their twisted branches scraping the carriage as if whispering their own warnings.
Aurelia kept telling herself she wasn't scared, that she could handle the palace, the creatures, the shadows, and the endless, twisted games that Tenebrarum played.
But the truth clung to her throat: Could she really survive this place? Could she truly walk into the jaws of darkness and come out alive?
Then the carriage slowed, the wheels grinding softer. Sorana lifted the curtain just a fraction, letting a beam of bright gold light slice through the cramped space. Aurelia leaned forward, confusion curling in her chest until the rumbling grew louder, until the ground itself trembled beneath them. The curtain slipped from Sorana's fingers, as if even she had been struck silent.
Aurelia pushed herself closer, her heart rising as if it wanted to escape through her throat. Then she saw it.
The gates.
Massive, towering constructions forged entirely from gold, veined with glowing ancient markings, rose so impossibly high that they looked as if they were cutting open the sky.
When they moved—when those monumental doors swung open with a deep, thunderous groan—the sound vibrated through her bones, the weight and power of it pressing against her ribs until she could barely breathe.
Her breath escaped in a sharp, whispered tremor.
This is real. This is the dark creature's castle. I can't stay here. I can't.
The gates widened like a mouth opening, either welcoming her or preparing to swallow her whole; she couldn't tell. Every inch of her body screamed that once she crossed inside, there would be no turning back, no escape, no second chance.
Anxiety crashed into her, her fingers trembling and her throat tight as if it were bound by rope.
"Are you okay, my lady?" Sorana asked, reaching for her hand.
"I'm fine," Aurelia hissed, pushing Sorana's touch away. Her eyes were locked on the gates, as if they would consume her if she dared to blink.
As the golden gates closed behind the carriage, the entire courtyard sprang to life around Aurelia.
Sound and color collided in a vivid tapestry, shadows dancing as if the ball had already commenced. Every creature within the palace moved with purpose, racing to prepare for the night ahead.
Guards marched in disciplined formations, their armor clanging and resonating against the marble floor.
Maids swiftly navigated the scene, balancing trays adorned with veiled fabrics and glowing lanterns. The air thrummed with a palpable energy, one that vibrated with the essence of dark power—a reminder that this palace was built for monsters, not mere humans.
Aurelia stepped down from the carriage, the coachman steadying her with a firm grip.
The cold marble beneath her shoes was a stark reminder of her surroundings, while the scents of burning incense, fresh flowers, and a hint of something metallic mingled in the air around her.
Sorana leaped down after her, skillfully balancing two large boxes.
"I'll be back shortly," she stated briskly, her posture strong and assured as she turned away. Without waiting for permission or glancing back at Aurelia, she strode off with purpose, undeterred by any fears that might linger.
Aurelia breathed the word "no" too late; her hand was half raised, the air still rippling from Sorana's departure.
Sorana had already vanished into the crowd, leaving Aurelia standing alone in the center of the dark creature's palace—just a human surrounded by beings far stronger and far stranger than herself.
Aurelia felt her heart climb painfully high in her chest. The noise, the movement, the cold shimmer of the golden walls—everything felt as if it were closing in around her. She whispered to herself, "She left me. She actually left me here alone."
The realization hit her like a wave, and for a moment, she stood frozen as the palace seemed to swallow her presence whole.
Her breath was shallow, her body tense, and her eyes darted from face to face, praying none of them lingered too long on her—praying none of them recognized how fragile she was, how human she was, how breakable she was.
Aurelia stepped back the moment fingers closed around her wrist, her breath catching in her throat. She slowly and painfully lifted her eyes to the face she already knew all too well: Calvus.
He didn't smile or greet her; he simply focused on her hand, held firmly in his palm, as if the world had shrunk to that small, fragile point of contact.
The noise of the ball, the bustling servants, and the bright torchlight faded into the background, overshadowed by the intensity of his breath.
She didn't respond or utter a word; with determination, she yanked her hand from his grip, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed, clearly refusing to engage with him.
But Calvus didn't step back.
He leaned in slightly, studying her with an unsettling focus that made her stomach twist.
His gaze traced over her face, her dress, and the faint tremble in her fingers, as if he could see too much and enjoyed every moment of it.
"You shouldn't walk alone here," he said quietly, his voice low and almost a growl. The words were shaped by some twisted concern or possessiveness that she couldn't quite read. "Dark creatures stare at anything that shines, and you... shine too much today."
Aurelia remained still; she didn't thank him, didn't respond, and only shifted her weight, pressing her lips together as she fought against the rising fear and anger.
Her eyes darted over the unfamiliar palace halls.
But Calvus noticed it—he always did.
His hand moved again, almost reaching for her arm, but he stopped himself.
His fingers curled in frustration, and he took a rough breath as he looked at her, as if she were slipping away from him once more.
And she said nothing—absolutely nothing.
She remained silent for several reasons: she didn't trust him, Sorana had left her, Tenebrarum was somewhere in this palace, she felt trapped once again, and Calvus was the last person she wanted to owe anything to.
A tense breath escaped her as she turned her face away, completely ignoring him, though her heart hammered violently against her ribs.
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To be continued...