[POV: SOLENNE]
Solenne stirred slowly. She didn't even realize she had passed out again.
Her mind felt like water—too fluid to hold shape, slipping through her grasp. The stone beneath her was still, but the air around her pulsed with magic she didn't recognize… and she heard a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
She furrowed her brows and forced her stormy-gray eyes open.
The throne room had not changed. The braziers still glowed with their ghostly, smokeless flame, and, despite awakening, the silent warriors remained standing along the walls, unmoving.
The throne remained cracked and cold, but the King had moved—he was no longer standing at her side.
Ruvan was crouched a few feet away from her, his massive body coiled in a position far too still to be relaxed. He looked like a predator caught between the instinct to attack and the desire to toy with what he had captured.
Solenne tried to sit up, but her body resisted. His golden eyes glowed softly in the dim light, fixed on her with a gaze that kept her fixated in place.
Ruvan moved—just barely—a flicker of motion as he shifted his weight forward.
She froze.
Neither of them spoke—not that she could, anyway.
She met his eyes instead, and something in his expression tightened. Not anger. Not recognition. But… confusion. Curiosity. Pain.
"You're quiet," he said at last, voice rough from disuse. He tilted his head. "Too quiet."
Solenne offered no answer.
Ruvan inhaled deeply, as if trying to sort through a thousand memories eroded by time and madness.
"I know that smell," he muttered. "But not you."
He moved a few inches closer. Solenne was nearly choked by his potent pheromones—she had never witnessed an Alpha with an aura so imposing. She could practically taste it.
"You smell like blood and lies," Ruvan observed.
'Blood and lies?' Solenne's pulse quickened, but she stayed still. 'What the hell is he talking about? He really is insane.'
His voice was softer but undoubtedly vexed. "You smell like… mine."
Ruvan's hand moved slowly and deliberately, as if not to scare her. He reached toward Solenne again, fingers hovering near the burned mark across her chest. She flinched, thinking he might activate the bond again, but he didn't touch her this time. Just hovered.
"False bond," he said, voice dipping into something darker. "They tried to bind you to me."
Solenne nodded once. 'He... knows?'
Ruvan blinked. "…But it's still burning because of me."
The King said it like a revelation, as if the truth had revealed itself to him. His pensive gaze returned to hers.
"You didn't speak the vow. You didn't say my name," he said.
Solenne frowned. 'Is that important? I don't recall a verbal component in the alpha mating rituals—granted, I don't have much experience in that regard.'
Ruvan added tentatively, "I didn't say yours, either."
Something passed between them—silently and slightly unsettling. Then Ruvan shifted, sitting back on his heels. His gaze dropped to the ritual binds that hung loosely from her wrists.
"Did they leave you for dead?" he asked.
She nodded again.
"How generous," he said bitterly. "A sacrifice for a monster."
Ruvan head tilted again, this time with sharp calculation. "You're not afraid of me."
Solenne lifted a brow; it wasn't exactly agreement, but also not denial.
"Then why don't you speak?" Ruvan demanded.
She sighed softly, brows furrowing in frustration. Most of the time, she didn't mind that she couldn't speak since no one bothered to talk with her in the first place—but at a time like this that she wished she could communicate.
"You ignore me and still aren't scared?" he warned. "You should be."
Then he stood. The floor vibrated faintly, and the runes in the stone glowed beneath the King's feet.
'The fortress recognizes him,' Solenne noted. 'This whole place is… strange. Are we still in the mountain? The air... it doesn't feel right.'
Solenne dragged herself upright, managing to sit. She expected him to walk away, return to his throne, and maybe even vanish back into the stone… Instead, despite his threat, Ruvan turned toward her.
"Come."
Solenne blinked.
"You woke me," he said simply. "That makes you mine."
Then, he extended his hand in offer. The gesture wasn't demanding, but it wasn't soft, either. Solenne wasn't sure what came over her—perhaps she had come to terms with death and feared nothing anymore—but she reached out to him almost instantly.
Her fingers hovered above his for a long breath before she took it.
It was… warm.
It didn't burn like before; it wasn't searing heat like the false bond mark. Just… warm. Pleasant, even.
It felt more grounding than frightening.
Solenne had expected the contact to hurt—her body still tensed, waiting for magic to lash out or the bond to ignite again, but it didn't.
Ruvan's grip remained steady as he helped her to her feet.
She swayed once, but he didn't let go. He steadied her and released her hand, then eyed her warily.
He was unnervingly strong for a man who had just awakened from centuries of burial. Not just his pheromones or how large he was physically—his presence filled the hall like smoke, heavy and suffocating.
Solenne felt his eyes on her again, and she looked up at him. He was watching her too closely.
"You're smaller than I remember," he murmured. "But… not weaker."
Her brows drew together. 'He keeps talking like he has met me before.'
"I don't mean you," he said quickly, almost irritated. "You are not who I remember. But you feel like…"
Solenne waited for him to elaborate, but he never finished the thought. Instead, he turned and walked toward the far end of the throne room.
She hesitated for a moment before following behind him.
Ruvan slowed his pace and turned to look at her. "Do you know me?"
Solenne nodded and tilted her hand to indicate she knew little about him. She pointed to the throne, then to her head, and drew the outline of a pointed crown.
"You know I'm the… was the King," he confirmed. "You are a she-wolf, so I am sure you recognize I am also an alpha."
She nodded again.
"…But do you know my name?" Ruvan asked curiously.
Solenne took a moment of pause. She actually wasn't sure what his given name was—he was only referred to in scary stories and myths. So, she shook her head.
"So my name has been lost," he murmured. "…Just how long have I been asleep?…"
Solenne shrugged. She didn't have a clue; after all, she didn't have the luxury of attending school, so everything she knew was taught to her by her mother—and her mother's curriculum only consisted of the bare necessities: reading, writing, and a little mathematics.
"I am Ruvan," he introduced after a moment. "I'd say you can call me that, but…" Ruvan glanced down at her with a complicated expression, "I don't think you will."
'Ruvan,' Solenne mulled over the name in her mind. 'It's a strong name, fitting for a King. It suits him.'
He didn't wait for an answer before continuing onward. The corridor they entered was long and narrow, lined with disturbing statues of wolves. It felt like walking through the ribs of some ancient creature—curved bone-like arches, red-veined stone.
Ruvan said nothing. His pace was measured, as if every step was calculated, every breath deliberate, and Solenne trailed a few feet behind, observing.
"They kept sending sacrifices," he said suddenly. "Always dressed in white. Always marked with false bonds."
Solenne was surprised he brought it up. She eyed the back of his head curiously as they walked.
He didn't look back, "But none of them ever had your scent."
Solenne's hands curled into fists at her sides. 'Why am I different?'
"They burned like paper," he added, his eyes taking on a slightly crazed look. "Couldn't even scream long…"
She stopped walking, her lips curling with disapproval.
When he heard her footsteps cease, Ruvan stopped, too. He turned, eyes narrowed. "That frightens you."
Solenne sighed. [No. It disgusts me.]
It was instinctive, so she didn't notice, but she had subconsciously used her hands to speak. She used to talk to her mother and some of the kinder pack members in sign language and still often did it out of habit, even when she was alone.
Ruvan observed her hands, his expression unreadable. "What are you doing?"
Solenne blinked, realizing what she had done. She shook her head apologetically and waved it off.
"Is that how you communicate?" he asked. His voice held no pointedness or judgment—it was a genuine question.
She nodded slowly, surprised by his attitude.
Ruvan closed his eyes briefly before saying, "Do it again."
Solenne raised a brow, confused. Doing as he asked, she signed [Like this?]
"…No, do whatever you said before," he clarified.
'Why does he want me to do that?…' she frowned and shook her head to deny his request.
Solenne waited for him to change his mind, but even after a minute of silence, he still stared at her expectantly, silently urging her to repeat her prior words of disapproval.
So, reluctantly, she repeated the motion: [No. It disgusts me.]
Ruvan watched her hands, his attention undivided as he studied the movement.
"Teach me," he said after a long moment. His voice had lost some of its gravel. Still rough—but quieter. "If I'm going to understand you."
She tilted her head.
"Of course, unless it pleases you, being unable to communicate," he said. "I could always just pretend I know what you're saying. I'll make up all kinds of ridiculous things for you to say."
Solenne exhaled softly through her nose, almost amused. But she nodded, slightly endeared by his interest.
From reminiscing about killing innocent women to asking Solenne to teach him sign language in an instant—he was unpredictable at best, and terrifying at worst.
…But something about him drew her in.
They walked on, deeper into the fortress. Past frozen wolves and ancient altars. Past places no mortal had set foot in for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.
At last, Ruvan stopped before a heavy, double door. He pressed his hand to it, and the runes beneath his palm flared to life.
The doors opened with a loud creak.
A chamber lay beyond—spacious, dimly lit by floating orbs of soft red light. There was a hearth that hadn't burned in ages, a bed draped in moth-worn black velvet, and a table carved from dark wood and bone.
It was a resting place… a bedroom.
"You'll stay here," he said.
Solenne stepped inside slowly, and Ruvan lingered in the doorway.
He hesitated briefly, "Do not wander. There are still things in this fortress that remember me… and not kindly."
She nodded once in understanding but was puzzled by his words.
'Doesn't this place belong to him?' she wondered. 'Shouldn't its inhabitants be fonder of him? At least enough that they wouldn't be dangerous?…'
Ruvan turned to leave but paused.
"I don't know what you are," he said without looking at her. "But you didn't wake me by accident."
Then he left, the doors closing behind him.
Solenne was alone for the first time in days… but surrounded by ghosts.