Lyra's POV
The first thing I felt was silk. Soft, smooth, strange under my skin.
The second was warmth. A low heat like embers resting beneath the floor.
The third was fear.
My eyes flew open.
I was in a bed. A massive bed, draped in black and deep red sheets that shimmered faintly in the golden lantern light. The ceiling stretched high above, carved with patterns I didn't recognize. The walls were dark stone, cold-looking but clean, with tapestries hanging like shadows on either side.
Where was I?
I sat up too fast, dizzy. My legs trembled under the thin black dress I didn't remember wearing. My heart raced as I looked around. There was no window. No door I could see. Just one huge chamber with a desk in the corner, some silver furniture, and that awful silence.
Then it came back.
Mistress Elena. Her laugh. The strange man. The cloth shoved into my mouth.
"The Demon Lord will be pleased."
I pressed a hand to my chest. My heart was slamming against my ribs.
They sold me.
I tried to stand but staggered. My knees hit the soft carpet before I could find balance.
The silence broke.
A soft creak echoed as a door opened—hidden behind one of the dark panels. I backed up quickly, stumbling against the bed.
A girl stepped in.
She was younger than me. Brown hair tied back, eyes down, wearing a plain grey dress. She didn't look at me.
She carried a tray with a folded robe, a comb, and a bowl of warm water.
She placed it gently on a nearby table.
"Where am I?" I asked. My voice was raw.
She paused. Her hands twitched slightly, but she didn't lift her eyes.
"You're safe," she said. "You were brought to the palace."
"The palace?" I whispered. "Why? Who brought me?"
The girl didn't answer right away. Instead, she moved to the mirror and began laying out items like she was following instructions.
"I… I didn't do anything wrong," I tried again. "I was just in the village. With Elena. Why am I here? What is this place?"
The girl finally looked up.
There was fear in her eyes. Not fear of me—fear of someone else.
"You shouldn't ask too many questions," she said quietly.
"Please," I whispered. "Just tell me. Who lives here?"
She hesitated, then looked toward the door like she was checking if anyone could hear.
Her voice dropped even lower.
"This is the chamber of the Demon Lord."
I felt like the ground disappeared under me.
The girl quickly looked down again.
"You were chosen. That's all I know," she said, and her voice shook a little now. "I'm only here to help you get ready."
"Ready for what?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
I moved closer. "Please. Tell me what's going to happen."
She stepped back. "I've already said too much. If he finds out—"
She shut her mouth quickly, her face pale.
I understood. She was afraid of him.
We both were.
"I don't even know his name," I whispered.
She only glanced at me. "No one says his name."
She held out a robe. "Please change. He'll come soon. You don't want to make him wait."
I took it with trembling hands. "What if I don't want to see him?"
The girl gave me a look that said you don't have a choice.
I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach as I took the robe from her. It was black and finely made, unlike anything I'd worn before. The fabric felt heavier than it looked, and the soft material pressed against my skin like an unfamiliar touch. My fingers trembled as I pulled it over my head, the room feeling colder with every second that passed.
As I finish dressings in silence, the air shifts. The lanterns flicker. A heavy presence falls over the room—and
the girl suddenly drops to her knees, eyes wide with terror.
She whispers one word.
"He's here."