The thought wouldn't leave her alone.
It chewed at her from the inside, slow and ugly, the way fear does when it has nothing else to do.
Since when was he playing with my heart?
How much of her was still her?
How much had he already taken without her noticing?
It wasn't just shame. Shame was easy, compared to this.
This was doubt.
If he could do this to her—Sylvera, stubborn and sharp, Sylvera who always noticed things—if he could hook her without her even hearing the trap snap shut…
What chance did she have now?
None, the dark seemed to whisper. None at all.
Then his voice cut through it.
"Still wondering?"
The dungeon door sighed open.
Dusk spilled in behind him, thin and red, turning the stone into something that looked bruised. It made the room feel smaller. It made her skin crawl.
His steps made no sound.
Still, she felt every one of them. Not in her ears. In her bones.
Sylvera rose before she could stop herself. Spine straight. Chin high. Pretending her pulse wasn't trying to claw out of her throat.
He came into view like a sin in human shape. Black clothes clung to his frame. The crown sat on his hair, violet jewels pulsing faintly, faint-faint, like something breathing that shouldn't be alive.
His eyes found her.
Silver. Sharp. Almost amused.
Completely merciless.
Her mouth went dry.
"How I did it," he said softly, like he was reading her mind. "How far it goes." His head tipped a little, curious in that predator way. "You want a demonstration?"
Before she could move, his hand lifted.
No spell words.
No fancy gesture.
Just a small flick of his fingers.
The world obeyed.
The air thickened around her. It wasn't wind. It wasn't fog. It was… pressure. A force clamping down.
It wrapped around her ribs.
Her throat.
Her arms.
Invisible teeth.
She gasped, and the sound hit the silence sharp, humiliating. Her body jerked on instinct, trying to pull away, trying to dodge, but there was nowhere to go because the space itself had already decided.
She reached for her magic.
It bolted.
It didn't even fight.
Her power curled up into something small and useless and scared, and refused to come.
Nothing.
Not a spark.
Not even that tiny heat she always felt under her skin.
And then—the castle moved.
Sylvera felt it. She hated that she felt it.
The walls groaned low, almost pleased. Chains swayed in rhythm with his breathing. Shadows slid toward his boots like they belonged there. The ground trembled, not in fear, but in… reverence.
Like worship.
Her throat went dry.
"Still wondering about my limits?" he asked, smiling.
It was that smile with no warmth. Pretty shape. Empty inside.
He closed the distance.
One step.
Then another.
Slow. Calm.
Like he was taking his time on purpose.
Sylvera backed away anyway, heart hammering, panic beating in her blood like a drum. Her shoulders hit stone. Hard.
No more room.
She couldn't move further even if she wanted to tear through the wall.
And still he came.
Until his presence filled everything. Until her breath hitched. Until his breath brushed her lips.
He didn't kiss her.
Of course he didn't.
He smirked.
Slow. Infuriating. Like he enjoyed the way she hated him.
His hand lifted. Fingers brushed her jaw. Soft touch, cruel intent. His thumb dragged at the corner of her mouth and stayed there too long, gentle in the worst way.
"Stop wondering, little witch," he whispered. His voice slid over her skin. Smoke-sweet. "You'll get nothing from it."
Her breath broke.
Not because of the words.
Because now she knew.
This wasn't just sorcery.
This wasn't normal magic.
It felt old. Heavy. It tasted of dust and fire. Of things that had existed before humans ever thought to name gods. The air thrummed with it, and it wasn't even trying to hide.
Lorian wasn't a mage anymore.
The man had drowned.
What wore his skin now was bigger than him.
Merciless.
Hungry.
And the crown—
Gods.
She saw it.
It wasn't just cursed.
It was alive.
Light bled from the violet jewels, pulsing slow, slow. In rhythm with something that felt like breathing. The glow crawled over his face, touching his skin almost lovingly, sinking in.
Feeding.
Thriving.
The truth hit her hard, right in the gut, like someone had shoved a blade into her and twisted.
It didn't belong to him.
It had claimed him.
Made him more.
Made him monstrous.
Every gift he'd ever had—his arcane talent, his cunning, his cruel patience—everything the man once was… the crown drank it and multiplied it. Again and again and again, until there was no room left for the human.
His power wasn't a storm anymore.
It was a kingdom.
It was fire.
And he wore it like a second skin.
The cage of air tightened around her chest. Her ribs ached. The stone seemed to lean in closer. The chandeliers swayed gently. Shadows curled at his feet like dogs waiting for a command.
This wasn't just display.
It was a warning.
You cannot fight me.
You will never win.
Her lungs clawed for air. Her soul screamed. And still she stared back.
Because now she knew exactly what kind of monster was wearing his face.
And what it would take to break him.
She didn't wait long.
The realisation burned too hot. She couldn't sit still with it. Not inside that cage. Not after seeing what lived behind his smile, what breathed through that crown.
So when the chance came, she took it.
No guards.
No chains.
No word from him.
Just silence.
A mistake.
Or a test.
She didn't care which.
Barefoot, breath shallow, she slipped through the door and into the belly of the castle.
The halls yawned before her. Long corridors, crooked and wrong. Faint violet light crawled along the stone in thin veins, like roots under skin. The walls pulsed softly. A heartbeat trapped inside rock. The deeper she went, the colder it got—not wind-cold. Not weather.
This cold slid into her bones.
She passed doors she didn't dare open.
One stood ajar. She saw an altar slick with old blood. She didn't look longer than a second. She couldn't.
Another door… a mirror. It caught her face and didn't give it back properly. Faces stared from the glass, hollow-eyed, mouths moving in silent pleas. She ran before she could think too hard about it.
The castle whispered while she moved.
Her name.
Over and over.
Like prayer. Like hunger.
Then she found the door.
It was sealed with silence. No obvious lock. But it hummed, like a vein full of magic. Her hand shook when she touched it. When it opened, light spilled out cold and blue and wrong.
The room was a shrine of glass.
Shelves towered to the ceiling. Crystal vials lined them. Hundreds. Thousands. Each one swirling with pale light that shifted and coiled, alive in a way it shouldn't be.
Sylvera stepped closer.
The air burned cold in her lungs. It made her teeth ache.
And then she heard it.
A whisper.
Soft. Shivering.
So faint she thought it was her own thought at first.
Then another whisper joined it.
Then another.
Her blood iced over.
Souls.
They were souls.
Trapped. Bottled.
Still awake.
Still screaming.
The vials trembled as if sensing her. Voices brushed her ears like cobwebs. Some sobbed. Some begged. One whispered her name like it knew her.
Sylvera staggered back. Her nails dug into her palms hard enough to hurt. Her breath came ragged. Her throat was raw with the scream she refused to let out.
Lorian wasn't just corrupted.
He wasn't just cruel.
He was something else.
Something older.
Something that collected.
And gods—some of those voices felt familiar. Villagers. Travellers. Faces she'd seen once in sunlight. People she hadn't saved. People she'd told herself she couldn't save.
Her knees weakened.
Her heart thundered.
She pressed her palm to the cold stone shelf, forcing breath through her teeth, swallowing the iron taste rising in her throat.
There was no saving him.
No saving this place.
If she stayed, she'd end on that shelf. Another vial. Another whisper bleeding into the dark.
She turned and ran.
Not caring about the walls that breathed her name.
Not caring about the crown's shadow curling through the halls.
She didn't want revenge.
Didn't want answers.
Didn't even want justice.
She just wanted out.
Before he realised what she knew.
Before he decided she was no longer his obsession—
and became just another vial in the dark.