(Princess Elara's POV)
The forest felt alive when he found me.
But the castle… the castle feels like it remembers me.
Kael doesn't speak as he pulls me through the gates of Drakmorn. Soldiers bow, though fear hangs on their faces like frost. No one meets his eyes. No one breathes too loudly.
Even the wind seems to quiet in his presence.
His grip on my wrist is firm but not painful—controlled, like everything he does. As if he's holding back a force far more dangerous than himself.
I should try to pull away.
I should scream.
I should beg for mercy.
But the way the shadows move around him keeps me frozen. They slither at his heels, curl around his boots, and then retreat, almost shy, when I step too close.
As if they don't know what to make of me.
As if they recognize something in me I do not.
Kael stops without warning, turning his head just enough that I see the line of his jaw, the faint silver bruise of an old scar.
"Keep up," he says, voice deep, cold, emotionless.
I swallow hard and follow.
The fortress interior is worse.
Not in horror—
But in familiarity.
The torches burn with black fire instead of gold.
The walls hum faintly with runes older than my kingdom.
And deeper inside, I swear I hear whispers—not words, just a low, aching murmur like the castle is breathing.
I don't speak.
I don't ask questions.
He's the kind of man who makes silence feel safer than answers.
But when the door slams shut behind us, I flinch.
His eyes flick toward me—just a second, just enough to catch the smallest crack in his expression.
A flicker of… recognition.
Or anger.
Or grief.
I can't tell.
He hides everything too well.
He leads me to a long corridor where silver mirrors line the walls. I catch glimpses of myself—dusty, exhausted, terrified—and glimpses of him behind me, tall and dark and unreadable.
But the mirrors do something strange.
They warp around him.
Bend away, just slightly, as if refusing to reflect him clearly.
As if they fear him.
We reach a chamber at the end—massive, dim, carved with runes that glow faintly blue when I step inside. The shadows seem to hesitate at the threshold, like they're waiting for his permission to follow.
Kael releases my wrist.
For the first time since the forest, I can breathe—but barely.
He steps back, keeping a distance between us.
Why?
To protect me?
Or himself?
Finally, I gather the courage to whisper, "Why did you bring me here?"
His eyes lift to mine.
Cold.
Sharp.
Uninterpretable.
"You trespassed," he says.
"That's not a reason to—"
"It is for me."
That's all he gives me.
No explanation.
No emotion.
Nothing.
He turns away like the conversation is over.
But I'm not done.
I move toward a carved pillar with swirling runes, reaching out a hand to touch—
His voice cuts through the air like a blade.
"Elara."
I freeze.
His tone is different this time.
Not angry. Not cruel.
Warning.
"Do not touch that."
I pull my hand back immediately, heart pounding.
"What is it?"
He looks at the pillar, and something old, hollow, and painful shadows his face.
"A reminder," he says quietly.
"Of what?"
His stare returns to me.
Of something he will not say.
Of a past he will not share.
"Your room will be prepared," he says, turning away again. "You will stay within guarded halls. You will not wander."
"And if I do?" I ask softly.
He looks over his shoulder.
This time, the shadows rise at his feet like a warning.
"Then the castle will show you why no one leaves Drakmorn alive."
He walks away before I can speak again.
The doors shut behind him.
And I finally realize the truth:
I'm not his prisoner.
I'm not his guest.
I'm something else.
Something he fears.
Something he needs.
Something the shadows whisper to when he's not looking.
Something my mother never told me.