Chapter 2: The Scent of the Marked
The frost of the Night King's presence lingered in Selene's veins long after the throne room had emptied. Her skin still prickled with the memory of his eyes—those ancient, burning garnets that seemed to see into her soul. She had never believed the legends about vampires, let alone the cursed Night King who ruled the North. But she had seen him now. Spoken to him. And somehow, she'd survived it.
But the world outside those walls had changed.
Selene was escorted back to her quarters by a pair of silent, pale-eyed guards. Their armor shimmered like ice under the moonlight. The castle's corridors twisted like veins, alive with whispers—of war, of prophecy, and of the strange girl who had dared look into the Night King's eyes and lived to speak of it.
Once in her chamber, she collapsed onto the bed. Her body ached from the binding ritual; her soul was screaming. The curse was real. And it was inside her now. She could feel it coiling beneath her skin, something not hers. Something ancient.
She pulled up her sleeve. There it was.
A black sigil burned into the curve of her shoulder—elegant, cruel, in the shape of a crescent moon dripping blood.
"No," she whispered. "This can't be real."
The door creaked open.
A woman entered, wrapped in violet robes that shimmered with threads of silver. Her face was veiled, but her voice was soft, melodious.
"You carry the Mark," she said. "The prophecy begins."
Selene backed away. "Who are you?"
"A Seer. And a servant of fate. You must come with me."
She didn't want to, but her body moved on its own. She was led through secret halls and shadowed passageways until they reached a chamber filled with candles and smoke. There, on an altar, lay a book. Bound in dark leather, sealed with silver wax.
The Seer gestured. "This holds the truth of your blood. Read."
Selene's hands trembled as she touched the cover. The seal melted beneath her fingers, as though it had been waiting.
Inside were words written in an ancient tongue—but her blood knew the language. It whispered it to her. She read:
The Moonborne shall awaken the Night. The Blood of the Last Omega shall seal the King's fate. One shall burn. One shall reign. The bond shall end the curse… or begin it anew.
Her heart thundered. The Last Omega. That was her. She was the Moonborne.
And she had been fated not just to the Night King—but to the curse that bound him.
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Miles away, atop the frost-laced tower of his citadel, Valerian, the Night King, stood beneath the stars. Snow fell around him like whispers. He closed his eyes and exhaled.
He could feel her.
The Mark had taken.
She was his now.
"Selene," he said, tasting the name like forbidden fruit. "So the game begins."
And far below, in the dark woods beyond the castle, something stirred. A creature that had been waiting centuries for this exact moment.
The hunt had begun.