"Has the world always been red?" Donovan murmured, stepping out of his cell with a calm that belied the bloodshed he just committed monts ago.
His voice was low, contemplative, as if the murder was rely a passing thought.
Releasing a sigh, his head tilted slightly, following the direction the gaoler had fled. He could feel the gaoler’s fear, his panic, his heartbeat, hence, a sinful smile ghosted across his lips, its malice deepened by the faint glow of the dark runes etched into his skin. As he stretched his hand forward, crimson-streaked palm opened to reveal thin, shimring dark threads unraveling from his fingertips. They slithered through the air like living things, weaving into the shadows in pursuit of its prey.
The gaoler, drenched in his own sweat and consud by terror, sprinted through the labyrinthine halls with every ounce of strength he could summon.
His mind scread a single directive; raise the alarm! Warn the palace! The boy has freed himself!. Yet, no matter how far or fast he ran, the path twisted unnaturally beneath his feet.
He imdiately skidded to a halt, chest heaving, only to find himself standing once again in Donovan’s cell. His eyes widened in horror, locking onto the crumpled, lifeless body of his comrade. A strangled cry caught in his throat as he was faced with the reality of his situation.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head violently as if to dispel the nightmare. "This isn’t real."
Desperation clawed at him as he bolted again, forcing himself to recall the exit’s location. He retraced his steps with frantic precision, his heart hamring against his ribs. Yet, every attempt ended the sa: he passed through the main door only to be inexplicably drawn back to the scene of the carnage, back to Donovan’s cell.
"What... what is happening?!" The gaoler’s resolve crumbled as he staggered to a halt, trembling. The cruel realization dawned on him after recalling that he had stared into the boy’s devilish eyes. It made sense why the boy wasn’t chasing him. He was trapping him instead.
"Sobody! Help!"
"No one will hear you."
The gaoler froze as a voice spoke behind him, a mix of fear and exhaustion radiating through him. Slowly, he turned his head, compelled to confirm who– or what— was standing behind him.
Before he could fully turn around, sothing shot forward, swiftly coiling around his legs like a viper. The world spun as he was violently yanked off his feet and hurled into the air, leaving him dangling upside down. Blood rushed to his head as his wide, terrified eyes landed on the boy approaching him.
Panic surged through the gaoler’s veins, fueling his struggle as he clawed at whatever bound him. Seeing the boy draw closer, he tried to shift into his wolf form, desperation driving him, but before the transformation could take hold, another cord lashed through the air. This ti, it wrapped around the gaoler’s neck, tightening with such brutal precision, it cut off his breath, montarily seizing his transformation.
A choked gasp escaped him as Donovan stepped into the view, and the gaoler’s eyes were fixed on the boy’s finger, realizing too late that he was the one in control of whatever these things are.
"Did you forget who I am just because I’m your prisoner?" Donovan questioned, his tone calm, but the words struck like thunder. "I’m an Alpha wolf."
The gaoler wheezed, fighting for breath, as his strength faltered against the suffocating hold around his neck.
Donovan simply crouched, and he let out a soft hum. "Even if you shifted, your wolf would be no match for mine," he said with a quiet certainty.
"How does it feel?" he then asked. "Being caught in a web of misery with no way out. Every step you take, eventually leads you to the place where it all began. It’s like a tornt you can’t escape, right? This..." he gestured around him, his eyes dark with a silent fury, "---this is close to what I’ve been enduring. Like this isn’t enough, you wanted to kill with that guard over there. But who’s the dead one now?"
The gaoler, who had already pissed his pants, trembled with terror as he tried to figure out how the boy knew their plan. His breath hitched as he caught sight of Donovan’s eyes, now disturbingly altered from what he rembered. The irises had stretched into elongated ovals, their hypnotic shades of violet radiating an abyssal depth that seed to pull the very air from the room. Those were not the eyes of a child. No, this was no re boy.
"Where is Es?"
The demand in his voice cut through the gaoler like a blade.
"What... what are you?" the gaoler dared to ask, and Donovan tilted his head slightly to the side as he rembered the nicknas he’s been given.
"A monster, a devil’s child, a beast, and much more," he replied with a chilling calm. "But the nas an little to at this point, cause they’re all true. Now, answer my question, where is Es?"
"She’s in her chamber in the palace...p... please don’t kill ," the gaoler begged, his voice cracking. "I was only following orders, and I got greedy. I’ll do anything you want— just spare ! I beg you!"
Donovan’s expression shifted, his face etched with sothing far colder than rage — a dispassionate calculation.
"The walls may be silent, but I am not," Donovan began, his voice carrying the rhythmic cadence of an ominous verse that confused the gaoler guard. He continued, "Your sins inscribed, your soul ensnared. A mirror waits; your pain is declared. For the chains you forged were ant for , but their echoes bind you eternally."
The gaoler’s breath caught as Donovan released him, the threadlike cords retreating back into his fingers. He simply watched as Donovan turned and walked toward the cell door. Keeping his eyes on Donovan’s retreating figure, he reached for his sword around his waist, attempting to go for Donovan’s head, but before he could pull the sword out, Donovan suddenly paused after reaching the threshold.
"Kill yourself," he commanded without so much as a backward glance.
And then, he was gone, his footfalls fading into the corridor as the gaoler collapsed to his knees. He scread as his trembling hands reached for the weapon that would be responsible for his own demise. He was powerless to resist the command echoing in the room.
"...six, seven, eight, nine, ten," Donovan counted softly after exiting the tower. "Ten heartbeats...guards." His sharp senses guided him as he moved with predatory grace, his steps silent against the stone floor. Taking a sharp turn into the palace using the back door, he left the steady rhythm of those heartbeats behind.
The few sentinels he encountered were swiftly silenced before they could so much as draw a sound of alarm.
Elsewhere, Es lay motionless on the plush bed in one of the palace chambers, her pale complexion a stark contrast to the opulence surrounding her. Beside her, her father’s cousin sat vigilantly, her brows furrowed in quiet concern.
She had taken on the role of guardian in Damon’s absence, though convincing him to leave had been a battle in itself. If not for the looming specter of war and persistent reminders of his duty to the pack, he might never have left her side.
Rising from the chair with a weary sigh, she cast a glance at Es’s still form. "Only the moon goddess can tell what’s happening to this child," she murmured to herself. "Not even the vitamins are making any difference."
Her musing, however, was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. Lennox stepped into the room, his gaze imdiately drifting to Es. He quietly approached her bedside, checking on her before letting his gaze settle on the woman in the room.
"Aunt," Lennox began. "May I have a word with you in private? There’s sothing I need to discuss." he requested. "It won’t take much of your ti, I promise."
The lady hesitated only for a mont before nodding. With one final glance at Es, she followed Lennox out of the room, her mind already turning over what could be so urgent.
In the stillness, Donovan slipped through Es’s chamber window. Her scent lingered in the air, mixing with whatever dicinal concoction she must have taken. He followed her scent, hesitating for a mont till it grew stronger, undeniable, and he knew he was in the right room.
Approaching her bed, he didn’t care that his hands were stained with blood; the lives he had taken to get here no longer bothered him the way they used to.
Stopping at the edge of her bed, Es’s heartbeat was faint, softer than the gentle rustle of leaves, and unlike anyone else, her fragility struck deep within him. His eyes narrowed, their violet depth shimring with a cosmic brilliance, as though an entire galaxy swirled within them.
"I don’t know what it is about you," Donovan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he found her hand and laced their fingers together. The warmth of her skin grounded him, his expression softening before he even realized.
"But I need a reason to live," he continued, releasing her hand. "You’re going to give that reason, Esray. But that won’t be possible if you’re dead. No matter what happens, you and I will stay bonded. If I’m not allowed to die, neither are you."
Gently grabbing her wrist, Donovan’s expression turned calculating. He raised his bloodied finger, sharp nails cleaning in the faint light. He began to etch a symbol into her palm, his strokes precise.
If she were awake, the pain would have made it impossible to conclude the ritual.
When the intricate design was complete, Donovan repeated the design on his own wrist, carving the sa symbol into his flesh. Blood welled from the fresh mark, dark and vivid as they ran down his arm.
Without hesitation, he pressed their wounds together, letting their blood mingle.
As their essence entwined, the air around them seed to hum with an unseen power, binding their fates together in a way no divine force could sever.
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