“Your life is tied to mine.”

Thorne’s voice, laced with bitterness, and his cruel smirk haunted me.

I had been running from him through the nightmare, yet no matter how far I fled, he was always there.

I jolted awake, chest heaving, drenched in cold sweat. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I had actually heard his voice or if my mind had finally cracked under the weight of pain, fear, and whatever potions they had forced into me.

“He chases me even in my sleep…” My heart skipped a beat as the icy fear melted into simmering fury.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered angrily, springing upright from the bed only to pause. Something felt different.

I expected sharp pain, a splitting headache, something to tell me how sick I was, but there was nothing. No ache, no agony. I felt strangely new, whole and almost… fine.

Pressing my palm against my wrapped wound, I braced myself for pain. But there was none. The wound was still there, I felt the dampness seeping through, but the pain had vanished completely.

My sackcloth had been replaced with a fur-like half gown, slender at the arms and soft against my skin. It made me feel oddly regal, like some kind of princess misplaced in a nightmare.

As I hurriedly searched for my shoes in the dimly lit room, the memories of the day before crashed back in waves.

I wasn’t supposed to remember. I wasn’t supposed to know who I was or who Thorne was when I woke. So why did I remember everything?

“Was I wrong about what I heard? Or… is something wrong with me?” My temples throbbed, a dizzying reminder that all was not as it seemed.

“I know I heard them talking about me forgetting… Did I mishear? Was I dreaming?” My inner voice hissed in doubt.

I sat heavily on the finely arranged bed, burying my face in my palm, my head spinning with confusion.

The room was almost dark, eerily still. No answers, only silence. I resolved to go out, to search for any scrap of truth.

But the sound of whispers and movement outside the door froze me in place. The old hag is back again. Likely with another potion meant to strip more of me away.

I quickly slipped beneath the blanket, feigning sleep.

The door creaked open, and footsteps shuffled in.

“She’s still sleeping?” A cold male voice broke the silence.

My heart stopped. That wasn’t a dream.

“It’s a powerful concoction,” the elderly woman’s voice followed. “The longer she sleeps, the better.”

“She needs to be awake tomorrow. Sire Killian will want to see her. She can’t be lying there like a corpse.” His tone was sharp, like I was the one who had poisoned myself.

“She will wake by then,” the woman replied with a weary sigh. I felt her hands draw the blanket up to my chin.

Their voices dropped to mumbles, inaudible, conspiratorial, before they both left.

I opened my eyes to the dark ceiling. A conspiracy, I didn’t know the shape of it yet, but one thing was clear: Killian might not know everything that was happening.

I watched the night crawl by, restless, sleepless, my thoughts gnawing at me.

When morning finally came, brighter than expected, I felt oddly refreshed.

I sprinted from bed to splash water on my face when the middle-aged woman walked in.

“Elysian? What a pleasant surprise. You’re stronger than I thought. Awake already?” Her voice was unnervingly high-pitched, too cheerful for the first time since I’d met her.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I mumbled.

“You look like you’re going out,” she remarked, eyeing me suspiciously from the corner of her gaze.

“Yes. It looks bright outside.” I forced a chuckle.

“Go take a bath first. Your hair is a mess,” she teased, watching me too closely.

“Oh, yes. I do need a shower,” I agreed, masking my nerves with a childish smile.

The bath was soothing, warm, fragrant, almost heavenly compared to the constant fear I lived in. Not the kind of shower I was used to, but still calming. Even the towels felt impossibly soft and warm, as though magic clung to the fabric.

I cleaned up quickly, and the middle aged woman, as I helped style my hair.

“What’s your name?” I asked suddenly, catching her off guard.

The awkward silence that we were both dwelling in was scraping my skin off in fear, fear that she might do something to me from behind, I needed to engage her in a conversation.

“They call me Lupa,” She responded with a weak smile after staring at me for a minute. “I don’t even remember what my true name was.”

“Lupa…” I repeated softly. “It sounds nice. How long have you worked here?”

I wanted to keep her talking. I knew women her age liked to reminisce about their youth, their beauty, their past.

“I’ve been here since before the Sire was born,” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling faintly with pride. “I even nursed Sire Killian.”

I leaned into the conversation. “What was he like as a baby?”

Her expression softened. “He was a beautiful pup, full of bright energy.” She sighed, studying me through the mirror.

“You’re all set,” she said, patting my shoulder. “ Let me get your dress.”

As she left, I muttered under my breath, “We’ll try again another time.”

She returned moments later with the most exquisite gown I’d ever laid eyes on. Not fur this time, but cotton, how they acquired it, I didn’t know.

It was perfect, as though made for me. Royal blue with green embroidery, sleeveless, cinched at the waist, flowing into a full skirt.

As I slipped into it, I felt transformed, regal, almost like the royalty I see in movies.

“The Sire is waiting for you,” Lupa whispered, smiling as she caught me admiring myself.

Finally, I would meet Killian. Devil or not, he was the only one I felt I could speak to about Thorne. At least he wasn’t afraid of the Reaper.

“Let’s go,” I murmured back.

She took my hand and led me out. My steps felt heavier than they should have, my heart hammering with unease.

It was supposed to be a simple meeting. But the way my gown clung, the way she guided me forward, I felt less like a guest and more like a bride walking toward her groom.

Was this the plan all along? To erase Thorne from my memory, to strip me of myself, and marry me off to Killian? Was he the mastermind behind everything?

My pulse thundered in my ears. Even if I rejected him, would he stop? Or would he simply take what he wanted?

The thought sent shivers crawling down my spine.

Oh… I’m so dead.