Elara's pov

The cold stone beneath my shoes didn’t feel real. Nothing did. Not the silent guards who flanked the giant doors that seemed to stretch up to the sky. Not the thick iron gates that sealed behind us with a groan that sounded too much like the last breath of freedom.

And certainly not the woman who stood waiting beyond the bus door with a smile carved out of ice.

“I am Clara,” she said, voice cold and unnaturally smooth, cutting through the silence “Welcome to Lupira.”

She was human. She was young.

Maybe my age.

No one answered. No one dared.

She tilted her head, eyes flicking across us like we were livestock being appraised. “Your names mean nothing here. Not yet. You are tributes, and that is all. Property of the court. Your breath, your blood, your bones they belong to the crown.”

Beside me, Von tensed. I could feel it in the way his hand brushed mine.

Clara’s smile widened. “I’ll be your guide. Think of me as your last chance at survival. Listen to me and you'll leave, don't and… let's just hope you listen.”

She turned sharply, the heels of her boots clicking against the black stone as she gestured for us to follow.

The castle loomed ahead taller than anything I’d ever seen. It was built at the top of a beautiful hill, a mass of towers and turrets like claws scraping the sky. Banners dripped from every peak, red and silver, fluttering like bloodied silk.

We entered through the side door and stepped into shadow.

No lights.

No warmth.

Just the cold that seeps into your bones and the feel of unseen eyes watching you.

Clara didn’t stop until we reached a narrow hall. The ceilings were impossibly high, lost in darkness, and everything smelled faintly of iron and old machines. We passed no guards, no servants. Just statues. So many statues. Wolves carved from obsidian. Wolves with eyes of gold.

And they were all watching us.

“This is the Hall of Discipline,” Clara said as we stopped before a massive door. “You will wait here to be addressed by the King. And before we begin, a few rules—”

She turned to face us again. The smile was gone.

“Rule One: Do not run. There is nowhere to go, and the hounds are faster than your screams.

Rule Two: Do not lie to a werewolves here.They can smell truth and they will take what they’re owed, one way or another.

Rule Three: Never, under any circumstances, touch the silver doors at the east wing. What lives behind them only obeys the king so no guard would save you.

Rule Four: If the bell tolls twice at midnight, stay in your quarters. Even if something is scratching at your door.

Rule Five: Never speak the King’s name unless he gives you permission. If he hears it without offering it, your tongue will be the price.

Rule six: no fraternizing. Moonhowl allows you to repopulate but it's forbidden here. If you're caught you will be castrated in the most painful way and for the women… let's not talk about that.”

A girl near the front whimpered.

Clara's lips twitched. “You think this is harsh? You haven’t seen harsh.”

And with that, she pushed the grand doors open.

The Hall beyond was not what I expected.

It was massive lined with black stone columns that reached into infinity. Flames crackled in lamps hung from the walls but their light did not warm. Red stained glass windows filtered the red stained moonlight that fell across the floor like blood. Everything gleamed, from the polished floors to the throne itself raised on a dais of obsidian.

We were ushered in like animals, told to stand in rows. I kept my eyes low, fixed on the floor, but I felt the weight of the hall pressing into me. The walls whispered. Or maybe it was just my mind, cracking beneath the weight of what was coming.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

And then he entered.

The air shifted.

It didn’t make a sound. No footsteps. No warning. Just power a suffocating wave of it that hit like a storm.

My head snapped up, instinct overriding fear.

And there he was.

The King.

Massive. Taller than any man I’d ever seen. Broad-shouldered and draped in black armor with faint red lines that seems to move, like they were alive. His hair was ink-dark, swept back to reveal a face carved from shadow and wrath. And his eyes—

Gold.

Fully, terrifyingly gold.

The wolf was at the surface.

Every muscle in my body screamed to look away, but I couldn’t. Because those eyes, those beautiful eyes, were trained on me.

Not scanning.

Not observing.

Piercing.

He saw me. Really saw me. Like he’d been waiting.

And something in his expression twisted. Just for a second. Like he had tasted something rotten.

Then it vanished.

He looked away as if I were a speck of dust.

He stepped up onto the dais and turned to face us, voice cold enough to still the flames in the braziers.

“You stand in the heart of Lupira,” he said, voice low and lethal. “Not as guests. Not as people. You are here because your lives were bought with blood owed by those who thought themselves brave.”

His eyes swept the room like a god “You are here because humans do not learn. You breed rebellion like maggots breed rot. And for every insurgence, we take twenty more.”

He paused. “Tributes.”

The word was an insult.

“You will work. You will obey. And when called, you will kneel. If you fail, you will not be punished. You will be erased. Bone by bone. Memory by memory. We will leave no trace of your existence. Not even a whisper.”

A hush fell so deep I could hear the breath hitching in someone’s throat.

“Make no mistake,” he continued, “this is not mercy. This is dominance. You are not here to be saved. You are here to serve.”

He stepped down from the dias, each stride slow and deliberate, boots echoing across the stone.

“Those of you who survive,” he said, now pacing in front of us, “may be granted purpose. The rest…” He stopped. “Will feed the roots of the forest.”

And then his gaze landed on me again.

The room went cold.

“I smell something strange,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The guards stiffened.

My blood turned to ice.

He took one step toward me.

Von shifted protectively, but a growl from a nearby wolf stopped him.

The King leaned in slightly, his gold eyes boring into mine.

“You,” he said. “What… are you?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

His nostrils flared.

Then he smiled.

But it wasn’t kind.

It was the smile of something that had just found a puzzle it intended to break.

“Interesting,” he whispered.

And turned away.

“Clara, sort them. The weak go to the mines or guards who needs bed warmers. The strong to the gardens and general castle jobs. And keep this one…” He glanced back at me once, gold eyes gleaming. “Alive. For now. She serves my quarters.”

Then he vanished into shadow, as silent as he came.

The doors slammed behind him like thunder.

And I finally let myself breathe.