The Fortress of Shadows
The wing of Malrik’s stronghold where Isla and Seraphine were confined felt less like a prison and more like a living thing. The walls pulsed faintly, their glowing runes emitting a sickly green light. The symbols hummed with a low, oppressive vibration, sapping Isla’s strength and muting her connection to the Moon Goddess.
Isla stood near a small, barred window, her silver hair catching the faint moonlight. Even the light felt thin and distant, struggling to penetrate the dark energy that suffused the air. Her hands rested protectively over her stomach as she stared into the gloom beyond.
The creak of the heavy iron door drew her attention. Malrik stepped inside, his gaunt figure framed by the flickering torchlight. His clothing was immaculate, tailored to perfection, but his presence was anything but polished. Shadows clung to him unnaturally, and his movements were deliberate, almost theatrical.
“You’ve adapted well,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of malice. “Most wolves crumble faster under these runes. But not you. I admire that.”
Isla met his gaze, her silver eyes blazing with defiance. “Whatever you’re trying to achieve, you won’t succeed.”
Malrik stepped closer, his gray eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. “You underestimate me, Isla. I’m not after your cooperation. I’m after your inevitability. Your divine bloodline, my vision. Together, we could create something unstoppable—something eternal.”
He reached out, brushing a lock of her hair aside with the back of his trembling hand. The tremor betrayed his unsteady health, but his smile remained unnervingly confident. “Draven’s too simple to see what you truly are. But I do. I see you as you’re meant to be.”
Isla’s jaw tightened, her lips curling in disgust. Without a word, she lashed out, sinking her teeth into his hand. The metallic tang of his blood filled her mouth as Malrik jerked back with a hiss of pain.
“You dare?” he snarled, clutching his injured hand. His refined demeanor fractured, revealing something darker. His gray eyes blackened, veins bulging grotesquely along his neck. His already gaunt features twisted further, his skin taking on a grayish hue. The monstrous side he tried to suppress surged to the surface, making the air in the chamber colder, heavier.
“You think your defiance will save you?” Malrik growled, his voice now a guttural rasp. His shadow stretched unnaturally across the walls, distorting as though it had a mind of its own.
Isla stared him down, her breath unsteady but her resolve unshaken. “I’ll never let you win, Malrik. Never.”
For a moment, he looked as though he might retaliate, his warped form towering over her. But then, with a sudden, sharp laugh, he pulled back. The transformation faded slightly, though his trembling hands and darkened eyes remained.
“You’ll learn,” he said, his voice returning to its cold, mocking tone. “Everyone learns, eventually.”
With that, he stormed out, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. His twisted laughter echoed down the corridor, lingering long after he was gone.
