⸻
While Soren toyed with Seraphina beneath the dim gold of the fading sky, elsewhere in Virelia's depths, the cold, merciless dark of the underground dungeons held its own secrets.
Beneath the castle—deep where light dared not tread—Lucian stood before a prisoner.
Chains clinked softly in the silence.
Isabel hung from the stone wall, arms and legs spread wide, bound to four corners like a marionette discarded in a cruel game. Her clothes were torn, bloodied, though no wound marked her flesh. Her dark hair clung to her face, and her eyes—cold, sharp, burning—glared up at him with loathing so vivid it almost scorched the air.
Lucian tilted his head, his voice low and cruelly calm. "You'd best start talking. Tell me everything you know. I want it all."
"I don't know anything," Isabel spat, her voice hoarse but defiant. "You'll get nothing from me. Why can't you accept it? I can't help you."
The back of his hand met her cheek in a crack that echoed through the stone chamber. Her head whipped sideways, her face flushed hot with pain. Still, when she turned back to him, her gaze was a dagger of fury.
"You monster," she hissed, her jaw tightening. Her eyes began to burn, veins tracing up around them, red flooding her irises like blood rising in a tide. The chains rattled softly with her trembling.
Lucian stepped forward, his tone deadly. "You'd better control yourself. We both know who's stronger."
At those words, the pulse of power within her receded. The red drained from her eyes. The veins vanished. Her breathing slowed.
Lucian let silence hang before speaking again, slower this time.
"You know I can't force the truth from you, not directly," he said. "You and I—we're alike in more ways than one. But I can, as hell, torture the word out of your lips."
"I've told you," Isabel growled. "I know nothing. Let me go."
"Not so fast, Iz," he said, the nickname falling from his lips like a poisoned lullaby. "You forget I remember things. I know, as a child, you lived with the witches. I know you grew up in their coven until they found out what you were—until you were turned, until they cast you out."
She flinched.
He stepped closer, his voice now a whisper, dangerous and soft. "So don't lie to me. You know something—something that could bring me down. And believe me, I have no plans. No plans at all… to be taken down."
Isabel stared at him, the hatred in her eyes now shadowed with something else—recognition, maybe even fear.
Lucian didn't press further. He didn't need to—not yet.
He turned, leaving her breathing heavily in the chains, the question echoing in silence:
What did she know?
⸻
Outside, the night deepened.
The carriage rolled smoothly over the cobblestone road, wheels creaking softly. It pulled to a stop before the outer gate of the Edevan estate—a tall, wrought iron barrier flanked by stone columns. Two lanterns glowed faintly on either side, casting a quiet halo of light on the path.
Seraphina turned her head to look at Soren. To her surprise, he had truly brought her home—no detour, no games.
Her hand hovered at her chest before she bowed her head slightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere, if cautious. "For your… kindness."
Soren's reply was a single nod, accompanied by that maddening smirk. The one that tugged at the corner of his lips like he knew too much and cared too little.
It made her want to slap him.
She moved to step down, but his hand caught her wrist gently.
She turned, startled. His hand was now at her waist, light but deliberate.
"I never got to know your name, my lady," he said, voice low, casual.
Seraphina straightened her back, chin rising with pride. "I'm Lady Seraphina."
"Seraphina," he repeated, letting the name linger on his tongue. "A beautiful name." His smirk widened, half-mocking, half-genuine. "Well then. Have a lovely evening, Seraphina."
She hesitated. Then simply said, "Thank you," and stepped down from the carriage.
She tried not to rush. She truly did. But her feet moved with urgency, betraying her nerves even as she tried to compose herself. Her figure retreated quickly past the gate, disappearing behind the heavy doors of the manor.
Soren watched her until she was no longer in sight.
Then, leaning back in his seat, he tapped the carriage wall twice.
"Drive."
As the wheels turned and the shadows swallowed the road once more, his smirk remained, devilish and amused.
This day had taken quite the turn.
And he was beginning to enjoy it.
———