Kapitel 11: The truth.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling estate, Nila stepped out of the grand library. The palace, with its towering ceilings and expansive halls, seemed unusually quiet. The soft patter of her boots echoed through the empty corridors, and the only signs of life were a few maids moving about their duties, offering her kind, if not slightly curious, smiles.
She had spent hours in the library, captivated by the sheer number of ancient texts, some of which detailed the rich and often bloody history of the kingdom of Selene. But something had gnawed at her, an unsettling feeling that she couldn't quite place. Sol had been vague about the true ownership of the mansion. His explanations were playful, dismissive even, but she hadn't pressed. Not until now.
Curiosity, or perhaps the quiet of the evening, tugged at her. As she wandered deeper into the palace, a strange sensation bloomed in her chest. She ventured down a narrow hallway, the air was colder here, more sombre. The paintings that lined the walls grew darker in tone, portraits of noblemen and women, all staring out with stern, regal expressions.
Her fingers brushed the rough stone wall as she found herself standing before a large wooden door. The handle was cool under her palm, and with a slow push, the door creaked open. The room beyond was dimly lit, the only source of light the pale glow of the rising moon filtering through a small, arched window.
Stepping inside, Nila's breath caught in her throat. Before her was a vast collection of family portraits, all illuminated by the moonlight, casting long shadows across the floor. Her eyes scanned the room, her heart beating louder with each step.
Then she saw it.
A large portrait, draped in a heavy, ornate frame, dominated the far wall. The figures depicted were familiar, too familiar. Her eyes focused on the two young boys standing beside their parents. The stern, cold eyes of Aldric, the ruthless werewolf king, glared out from the canvas. His wife, regal and beautiful, stood beside him. And flanking them were two young boys, their postures stiff, their expressions eerily similar.
Her eyes went wide as recognition slammed into her like a physical blow. The younger version of Sol stood there, but beneath his youthful face was a name engraved on a plaque:
Cyrus Sol Selene.
Her heart stopped. Cyrus Sol Selene. It wasn't just Sol. He was Cyrus. The Cyrus she had run from. The werewolf king of Selene. The man she had been betrothed to and despised. The one she thought was a monster.
Her legs trembled beneath her, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The pieces of the puzzle came together all at once, and the weight of it crushed her. The gentle smiles, the teasing banter, the way Sol had looked after her none of it had been real. It had all been a lie. He had known who she was the entire time, while she had been blind to the truth.
And Raul… her heart twisted painfully as her eyes drifted to the other boy in the portrait. Darius. The very man she had also come to trust was none other than Cyrus's brother, the prince of Selene.
She stumbled back, her mind reeling as her world collapsed around her. Every memory with Sol—Cyrus—flooded her mind. The lake, the tent, the quiet moments where they had laughed together, and the feeling of his arms around her as he had saved her from drowning.
It was all a lie.
The betrayal hit her like a wave, washing away the warmth she had felt toward him, replacing it with an icy flood of fear and heartbreak. She had let herself grow close to him, had let her guard down, and he had played along, knowing full well who she was and what she had been running from. The king she had fled had been by her side all along.
Without thinking, she turned and ran. The portraits blurred as she sprinted out of the room, her breath ragged, her chest tight with anguish. She bolted through the palace, past the kind-faced maids who called after her, but their voices were drowned out by the pounding in her head. She had to get out, had to escape before Cyrus found her.
Tears stung her eyes, but she pushed them back, her heart breaking as she replayed every moment with him. How could she have been so blind? How could she have let herself care for him, trust him?
The cool night air hit her face as she burst through the palace doors and into the forest beyond. The trees loomed above her like shadowed sentinels, their branches clawing at the sky. She didn't care where she was going, only that she needed to be far away, away from Cyrus, away from the lies.
But the forest was darker than before. The moon's light barely penetrated the thick canopy, and the sound of her rapid footsteps seemed to echo unnaturally in the stillness. Her lungs burned as she ran, branches scratching at her skin, her thoughts a chaotic whirl of confusion and hurt.
Then she heard it a low, guttural growl that froze her in place.
Her heart raced as she spun around, searching the shadows. From the darkness emerged a massive shape, its hulking form outlined by the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. A wolf, larger than any she had ever seen, with fur as dark as night and eyes that gleamed with an unsettling intensity.
It stalked toward her, its growl deepening, its eyes locked on hers. Terror surged through her as she stumbled back, her mind screaming for her to run, but her legs wouldn't move. She was trapped, and the beast was closing in fast.
Suddenly, it lunged.
Nila screamed and darted in the only direction she knew, back toward the palace. Her heart pounded as she sprinted through the trees, the wolf hot on her heels, its powerful legs carrying it effortlessly over the uneven ground.
She could hear its breath, and feel the heat of its presence right behind her as she tore through the forest. Her mind raced as fast as her legs, panic overtaking her thoughts.
She could see the palace now, its grand silhouette rising against the night sky, and the wolf was right behind her, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Just as she reached the palace steps, the wolf lunged again, but she managed to throw herself inside, slamming the heavy doors shut behind her.
Panting and trembling, Nila pressed her back against the door, her chest heaving. She was safe for now, but the realization of where she was struck her just as hard as the chase had. She was back at the mansion—back where Cyrus was.
And worse, she wasn't sure which she feared more: the wolf outside or the king who had lied to her.
Geschenke
-- Geschenk
erhalten Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein