Elira sat curled up in the corner of the prince's room, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The velvet couch beneath her was soft, but nothing could calm her racing thoughts.
Marry him? Why me? What even is this place?
She glanced toward the mirror on the far wall—the same one she had seen in her world, now dull and still. No light. No magic. No way home.
She sighed shakily. This is madness.
Locked in his chambers with no guards, no answers, and a dangerously possessive prince who talked about protection like it was ownership. Her mind whirled, trying to understand why she of all people had been chosen… and what Elarion truly meant.
Meanwhile…
Down the long, torch-lit halls of the palace, Prince Elric stormed past the guards without a word.
"Your Highness, shall we escort—?"
"Leave me," he growled.
The guards stepped back instantly. They knew that voice. The change was near.
Elric clenched his jaw as he passed the grand staircase, his breath already uneven. His body ached, skin burning from within. Veins throbbed with cursed power.
He turned sharply toward the east wing, moving swiftly down a narrow hall hidden behind a wall tapestry. A passage few knew existed. A passage only his bloodline could access.
He reached a heavy stone door and placed his palm on the ancient crest etched into the rock. It shimmered faintly—and opened.
The chamber beyond was cold and circular, its walls carved with runic symbols and silver chains bolted into stone pillars.
Elric entered, breath ragged. "Not yet," he muttered. "Not yet…"
But it was too late.
The first crack echoed from his shoulder. Then his spine arched unnaturally.
"Damn it—!"
His fingers curled, nails blackening into sharp claws. His skin rippled as bones shifted beneath. Silver eyes began to glow fiercely.
He dropped to his knees with a strangled groan, trying to hold it back.
"You said you'd control it," he spat, as if talking to himself. "You said she would help."
His voice deepened unnaturally.
Then came the growl.
A massive claw slammed into the floor as his body convulsed—fur bursting across his back, muscles expanding, face twisting into something monstrous.
The chains on the walls rattled, reacting to his magic.
Within seconds, the Prince of the Realm was gone—
—replaced by a massive, shadowed beast.
Eight feet tall. Covered in black fur and silver markings that pulsed like fire. His jaw opened in a snarl, fangs glistening.
But beneath all that power, the beast hesitated. Eyes wide.
She's here.
The beast turned its head—sniffing the air.
"Elira…"
A deep, low voice. Almost human. Almost a plea.
Then the chamber shook slightly as he slammed a fist into the stone wall, a roar of rage echoing through the hidden catacomb.
Back in the room…
Elira flinched.
She had felt… something. A shift in the air. A cold whisper crawling across her skin.
She stood slowly and moved toward the balcony. The palace was quiet beneath the moonlight, but the wind carried something wrong with it.
Something ancient.
Something… angry.