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.
Cyrus strode through the shadowed hallways of the palace, his mind preoccupied with the weight of his duties as king. The day had been long, filled with meetings and decisions that demanded his attention. Even now, as the evening settled and the palace grew quiet, there were still matters to attend to. The kingdom of Selene did not rest, and neither could he.
He left the library hours ago, leaving Nila immersed in her books. There had been a tension between them, a subtle but growing unease that he hadn't been able to ignore. He had brushed it off, believing it to be the strain of their circumstances, but as the day wore on, it gnawed at him.
As he left the main palace and was returning to his other mansion, his thoughts drifted to her. She would understand, he had reasoned, once she knew the full story. Once she knew that he wasn't the monster she had believed him to be.
But doubt was creeping in.
As he stepped outside into the cool evening air, the moon hanging low in the sky, he felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to let go of his human form, if only for a while. The palace, with all its burdens, was stifling tonight. His wolf called to him, a primal need to run, to feel the earth beneath his paws and the wind in his fur. He glanced around for a moment and then shifted.
The transformation was swift and familiar, bones reshaping as fur replaced skin. His senses sharpened, the coolness of the night air more pronounced, the scents of the forest and the palace grounds more vivid. As he padded forward on all fours, he felt the tension in his body ease. His wolf form had always been a refuge for him, a place where the complexities of his mind quieted, and instinct took over.
He began to run.
The trees blurred as he surged through the forest surrounding the palace, his brown fur rippling in the wind. His wolf was powerful, sleek, and fast. There was no room for hesitation or second-guessing in this form, only action, only the thrill of the chase, even when there was no prey.
But then, something familiar hit him...
Her scent.
Cyrus halted, his body tensing as he sniffed the air. Nila. She was close, too close. His wolf's heightened senses picked up the faintest trace of her, a mix of fear and urgency in her scent. She was running.
Why?
A growl rumbled in his throat as his wolf form reacted, emotions raw and uncontrollable. His rational mind would have paused to think, to understand, but the wolf didn't care. It sensed one thing: She was trying to leave. His wolf's anger surged. She was fleeing from him, abandoning him. And that was something the beast could not allow.
With a fierce snarl, Cyrus bolted in the direction of her scent, his powerful legs carrying him through the forest with terrifying speed. He didn't think, he simply acted. The trees blurred past him as he tracked her down, the sound of her footsteps ahead of him, frantic and desperate.
His wolf howled in fury. She was running from him, rejecting him.
He wouldn't let her go. He couldn't.
The palace came into view, and there she was, Nila, just a few steps ahead, her breath ragged, her legs straining as she pushed herself to the limit. His eyes locked on her, wild and burning with a mixture of rage and something else, something darker, possessiveness. She belonged to him, and his wolf wouldn't let her forget that.
As she reached the steps of the palace, Cyrus lunged. His jaws snapped at the air just behind her, but she managed to throw herself inside, slamming the heavy doors shut in his face.
For a moment, he stood there, his massive body panting, his mind a chaotic storm. The beast in him raged, wanting to break through the door, to confront her, but something held him back. A flicker of rationality. A flicker of the man still buried beneath the fur and claws.
He couldn't approach her like this.
With a low growl, he turned and shifted, his body twisting back into his human form. His breath came heavy as his feet touched the cool stone of the palace grounds. Sweat dripped from his bare skin, his chest heaving with the remnants of the chase. He needed to see her, to explain, to fix whatever had just shattered between them.
Taking another route into the palace, he made his way back to the grand hall, where she had fled. His heart pounded in his chest, not from the run, but from the fear of what he would find. Had she figured it out? The truth? The lies?
When he entered the hall, the sight that greeted him stopped him cold.
Nila was crouched on the floor, her back pressed against the door she had just slammed shut. Her body trembled, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes wild and filled with a mixture of fear, pain, and something else that cut him deeper than any blade ever could—betrayal.
Her gaze snapped to him, and the moment their eyes met, her expression shifted. Hatred.
"You," she spat, her voice a trembling mix of anguish and fury. "How could you? How could you do this to me?"
Cyrus froze, his body aching with the weight of her words. The betrayal in her eyes stabbed at him, each word like a dagger twisting in his chest. His voice came out hoarse, filled with desperation he didn't know he had. "Nila, let me explain—"
"Explain?" she cut him off, her voice rising as she stood, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You lied to me! You pretended to be someone else, someone I—" Her voice broke, and she turned away from him, pressing the palm of her hands into her eyes as if trying to stop the flood of emotions.
"I didn't pretend," he said softly, stepping closer, though the weight of her anger held him at a distance. "I am still Sol. I am still—"
"No!" she screamed, spinning back to face him, her eyes blazing. "You're not Sol. You're Cyrus! The same Cyrus I was supposed to marry, the same king I was running from!"
Her words hung in the air between them, raw and bleeding.
Cyrus's chest tightened, his throat constricting as he took a deep breath. "I didn't mean for it to be like this," he said quietly, his voice filled with the pain of his own mistakes. "I was going to tell you, but I needed time, time for you to see who I really am. To see that I'm not the monster you think I am."
Nila's laugh was cold, hollow. "Not a monster? You let me believe you were someone else. You let me trust you. I—" Her voice caught in her throat, her tears threatening to spill over again. "I cared about you, Cyrus. I thought I knew you."
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