The icy chill of the sharp blade pressed against her throat was the last memory left in her mind.
"No, please… stop!"
Chloe's plea was lost in the torrential jungle rain, swallowed by the rumbling thunder. She knelt on the ground, mud clinging to the hem of her pristine white silk dress, now stained.
Facing her, the towering figure of her pursuer stood like a mountain, obscuring even the faint light of the crescent moon. He said nothing, his eyes blazing with the ruthless cruelty of a predator.
A decisive slash of the sword cut through the air. The burning sensation of blood gushed out, followed by a throbbing, numbing pain spreading through her brain. And finally, an endless, profound darkness swallowed her last vestiges of consciousness.
"Gasp!"
Chloe sprang up from the large bed, her body convulsing violently like someone who had been submerged in deep water and miraculously surfaced at the last minute.
She greedily inhaled the cold air, her chest heaving with agonizing pain as if being torn apart. Cold sweat poured down, soaking her thin silk nightgown, making her shiver with the chill of reality.
Chloe tremblingly raised her hand to her throat. No blood. No cuts. The skin on her neck was still smooth, white, and warm with the rhythm of her pulse.
She glanced around; the familiar room with its pale blue silk curtains and the gentle scent of lavender appeared in the weak morning sunlight filtering through the crack in the door.
Helplessly, she propped herself up on the mattress, her head slumped, her breathing still ragged.
"I'm alive again. I'm back to square one."
Her voice was hoarse, filled with exhaustion and despair. How many times had this happened? She couldn't remember anymore. Five times, ten times, or perhaps a hundred times?
Memories of death began to overlap. A jumble of the pungent smell of blood and the howling of wolves. Sometimes she was pushed into a deep abyss, sometimes poisoned by her celebratory drink, sometimes torn apart by sharp claws.
The pain from each death seemed to linger in every cell, blurring the line between reality and delirious illusion.
However, amidst this chaotic jumble of painful memories, three things were etched into Chloe's brain like ironclad rules for survival.
She called them Chloe's Rules of Survival: Never get killed. Never trust men. Absolutely don't let the Volkov brothers find you.
"The Volkovs…" Chloe murmured the name with a mixture of disgust and horror.
The Volkov clan was a powerful, ancient, and brutal werewolf empire, the most formidable on the continent. If she remembered correctly, the clan had a vast number of members, each a warrior possessing terrifying strength.
But who exactly should she avoid? Which one of that large pack of wolves?
Her memory of the villain's face was always shrouded in a fog at the crucial moment. She only remembered their blazing red eyes and breath reeking of danger.
Therefore, it was best to stay away from anyone bearing the Volkov surname. Completely away.
Suddenly, a flash of clarity struck her stagnant mind. Chloe looked up at the pendulum clock on the wall.
Today was April 15th.
Her heart tightened as if an invisible hand were squeezing it. This was the fateful day, the day her parents would choose a marriage for her younger sister, Clara Adair.
Her Adair family was no ordinary noble family. They were descendants of ancient mages, possessing a wondrous and pure lineage of magic.
That bloodline was a gift from the gods, but also a tempting bait for demons. Any race, human or beastman, that interbred with Adair's blood would produce offspring with superior magical and physical abilities.
For that reason, the beautiful and talented younger sister, Clara, possessing abundant magical power, was always the target of countless powerful families seeking marriage to consolidate their status.
As for why she was excluded from this marriage proposal list? It was because her parents wanted to protect her.
From birth, Chloe was extremely weak. The magical energy within her was unstable, like a raging flood constantly tormenting her small body, causing her to frequently fall into a coma or become exhausted.
To protect their poor eldest daughter, her parents spent countless hours and effort concealing her existence from the outside nobility.
Even the marriage arrangements for Clara were carefully calculated to ensure the Adair family received the strongest possible protection from an external force, thus creating a long-term shield for Chloe.
Her parents never intended to marry her off. They wanted her to live quietly but safely within the embrace of her family forever.
Chloe sat up in a panic, memories of previous cycles flooding back like a whirlwind. That time, it was because of her agreement to the Volkov family that her entire family was wiped out.
She didn't bother to put on her shoes or her outer garment. Chloe rushed out of the room in her flimsy silk nightgown like a madwoman.
"Miss Chloe! Miss, where are you going?"
"You're barefoot, Miss!"
The maids working in the hallway panicked and chased after her.
But Chloe didn't care. She ignored her bare feet hitting the cold stone floor, ignored her heart pounding as if it would burst from her chest.
Her vision began to waver, her lungs burned from lack of oxygen, but the will to survive pushed her beyond the limits of her frail body.
She rushed down the main hall stairs, her small feet flying towards the main living room.
Bang!
Chloe used all her strength to fling open the heavy wooden door, shouted with all her remaining energy.
"Wait!"
Before her was the scene she had always feared. Her father was holding a black wax-sealed envelope, preparing to give it to the housekeeper to send the reply. The whole family, including her father, mother, and younger sister Clara, turned to stare at her. They were astonished by her sudden and disheveled appearance.
Chloe staggered forward, her trembling hands snatching the letter from her father's grasp.
Her father frowned, his voice filled with worry and reproach. "Chloe? What are you doing? What's the meaning of this?"
"No, Father…" Chloe gasped, her sky-blue eyes brimming with tears of fear.
"We can't let Clara go to the Volkovs… we can't…"
Her mother stepped forward to support her. "What nonsense are you talking about? A marriage to the Volkovs will protect you for life."
Chloe shook her head frantically.
She wanted to say: "Because she will die! Our whole family will be torn apart by those wolves!"
But before the words could leave her mouth, a sharp, needle-like pain pierced her heart, causing Chloe to faint.
She had forgotten how weak she was, completely unable to withstand the strenuous activity or the extreme agitation she had just experienced. The magical energy within her had erupted uncontrollably, stripping away her last vestiges of consciousness.
Chloe's body collapsed onto the stone floor like a wilting flower.
"Chloe!"
"Sister!"
The desperate screams of Clara and her parents were the last things she heard before completely sinking into the gloomy darkness of a repeating beginning.