The Stronghold of Onyx Dusk
The cold stone beneath Isla’s palms jolted her awake. Her silver hair clung to her damp skin as she sat up, groggy and disoriented. The air was heavy with dampness and the faint scent of burnt herbs. The room was dimly lit by flickering torches, the walls dark and oppressive, their surfaces etched with strange, ancient symbols.
Her wolf stirred faintly but remained suppressed, muted by whatever relic Malrik had used.
“Good, you’re awake,” came Malrik’s voice, soft but uncomfortably close.
She turned sharply to find him seated nearby, his thin frame draped in dark silks. His gray eyes glinted with satisfaction as he studied her, though his expression held something unnervingly tender.
“Where am I?” Isla demanded, her voice sharp despite the lingering fog in her mind.
“You’re safe,” Malrik replied, as if that were an answer. “Deep within Onyx Dusk territory. No one will hurt you here.”
Her fists clenched at her sides. “You kidnapped me. Draven will come for me. And when he does, you’ll regret it.”
Malrik’s laugh was soft, almost pitying. “Of course he’ll come. But he won’t find you in time to stop what needs to be done.”
“What are you talking about?” Isla growled, her silver eyes blazing despite her weakness.
Malrik stood, his movements unhurried as he approached. “I’m talking about your future, Isla. The Moon Goddess didn’t choose you to be someone’s Luna. She chose you to lead. To be more. But those children you carry…” He paused, his gaze lingering on her abdomen. “They’re chains. They’ll bind you to a life beneath your potential.”
Isla’s breath hitched, rage boiling in her chest. “I’ll never abandon my children,” she hissed. “Never.”
Malrik’s smile faded, replaced by something colder. “You say that now, but you don’t understand what you’re sacrificing for them. Power, freedom, purpose—everything you were born for.” He crouched beside her, his voice softening. “I’m not your enemy, Isla. I’m offering you a gift. A chance to embrace what you’re truly meant to be.”
Her body tensed, every fiber of her being screaming to fight, but her strength refused to return. She lunged at him, desperate to strike, but her body faltered, collapsing against the cold stone.
Malrik caught her shoulders, his touch gentle but firm. “You’ll see,” he murmured, his tone almost apologetic. “I’m doing this for you. For us.”
Isla glared up at him, her silver eyes fierce despite the tears pricking at their corners. “There is no ‘us,’ Malrik. And there never will be.”
Malrik’s expression hardened, though a flicker of something—pain?—crossed his face. “You’ll change your mind. Eventually.”
The torches flickered, their flames casting long, shifting shadows across the room. As Malrik turned and walked away, Isla was left alone in the suffocating silence, her mind racing with fury and fear. Her wolf stirred faintly, a whisper of defiance against the relic’s suppression.
She stared at the dark ceiling, a single thought anchoring her in the sea of uncertainty: Draven will find me.
