The Moonfang Lycan's stronghold was not a castle, but a fortress carved into the side of a volcanic mountain, its obsidian walls shimmering with a predatory gleam under the twin moons. King Lyraki carried Elara through a labyrinth of dark, silent corridors, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer power radiating from every Lycan they passed. Their eyes, a uniform crimson, held no warmth, only fierce loyalty to their Alpha and a chilling indifference towards her.
She was taken not to a dungeon, but to a chamber that spoke of stark, brutal luxury. Black marble floors, walls adorned with tapestries depicting ancient battles, and a massive, carved obsidian bed dominated the room. It was opulent, yet devoid of comfort, a gilded cage designed for a rare bird. As Lyraki set her down, she instinctively backed away until her shoulders hit the cold, unforgiving wall.
"This is your prison," Lyraki's voice rumbled, devoid of emotion. "For the treason of your father, Alpha Thorne, the Redwood Pack is forfeit. All who aided him will be hunted. But you," his eyes, red as embers, fixed on her, "you are different. You carry his blood, but also a… stain. A weakness that interests me."
Elara hugged herself, trying to suppress the shivers that ran through her. "I had no part in my father's actions. I didn't even know."
Lyraki scoffed, a deep, resonant sound. "Ignorance is not innocence, omega. But it also presents an opportunity. You will serve. As what, I have yet to decide. Perhaps a trophy. Perhaps a breeder to dilute the tainted bloodline. Or perhaps… a tool."
The word "tool" sent a fresh wave of ice through her veins. He was not talking about a servant. He was talking about something far more sinister. "I have nothing to offer," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His gaze sharpened, a predatory glint entering his eyes. "Don't you? I saw your eyes, little human. There is a fire there. A spirit that should have been extinguished long ago. And something else." He took a step closer, his towering form casting a long shadow over her. "What secrets does your human blood hide, omega?"
Elara felt the familiar buzz in her mind, a chaotic static attempting to push through. The Lycans here were too disciplined, their thoughts shielded, but Lyraki… his mind was a tempest. A fortress, yes, but with cracks she could sense, ancient pain, raw power, and a deep, consuming loneliness. She fought against the urge to reach out, to touch, to know. Her gift was a double-edged sword; it showed her truths, but it also exposed her.
"I… I don't understand," she lied, her voice trembling.
A low growl vibrated in his chest. "Don't play coy. The Elder Lyra mentioned you. A human-passing omega with a cursed sight. My ancestors spoke of such beings. Harbingers of chaos, or… keys to untold power." He leaned in, his scent overwhelming, a dark forest after a thunderstorm. "I will discover which you are."
He then turned, his heavy boots echoing on the marble floor. "You will remain here. Guards will be posted. Try to escape, and they will tear you limb from limb. Understand?"
Elara simply nodded, unable to speak, her throat tight with fear. She watched him leave, the heavy obsidian door closing with a resonant thud, sealing her in. She was alone, truly alone, in the heart of the Obsidian Alpha's domain. She sank to the floor, her mind reeling. The fleeting image, the crumbling temple, the woman screaming, and the word Mine had been so vivid. It felt like a memory, yet it wasn't hers. It felt like… a premonition. Or a curse.
Outside, the first distant rumbles of thunder began to echo, mimicking the turmoil in her heart. She was a pawn, trapped in a game where the rules were unknown, played by a king whose intentions were as dark and impenetrable as the obsidian walls surrounding her. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming scent of him, the memory of his terrifying crimson gaze. But even with her eyes closed, she could still feel it the faint, undeniable pull, a connection she feared more than death itself.