The world around me felt wrong—muted, hazy, as if I were submerged underwater.
The last thing I remembered was Erevan's voice whispering in my ear, his words slithering into my mind like a snake coiling around its prey.
Now, I was waking up in an unfamiliar place.
The chamber was dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient wood—a stark contrast to the vibrant, living forest of the elves I had known before.
This place was darker, colder. A deep, primeval magic hummed beneath the surface, pressing against my skin like an oppressive weight.
"You're awake."
The voice sent an involuntary shudder down my spine.
I turned my head sharply, and there he was—Erevan, seated beside the large wooden bed where I lay.
He watched me with eerie amusement, his violet eyes alight with satisfaction. His silver hair shimmered in the low light—so much like Oregon's, yet utterly different.
"Where am I?" I demanded, my voice rough, edged with confusion.
"At my home," he said smoothly.
"The heart of my domain."
I swallowed hard, glancing around. The chamber had no windows, only an arched doorway leading into darkness. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings—symbols I didn't recognize—yet they pulsed faintly with a deep, unnatural energy.
A sudden awareness prickled at the back of my mind. Something was off within me. My body felt foreign, sluggish, as though an invisible force restrained my very will. My hands curled into fists against the velvet blankets.
Erevan leaned forward, his long fingers tracing the wooden bedpost absently.
"If you're feeling well enough, we should begin preparing for the ceremony."
My stomach turned.
"What ceremony?"
"Our matrimony," he said, as if the words were the most natural thing in the world. "Everything is ready. We were just waiting for you to wake up."
My breath caught.
"You're insane if you think I'm going to marry you."
He chuckled, the sound rich and condescending.
"Ah, but you already agreed, my dear. Do you not recall? You gave yourself to me. Willingly."
The memory slammed into me—his voice coaxing the words from my mouth, the spell twisting around me like vines tightening around prey.
"From now on, I am yours, Erevan."
No. That wasn't real. It wasn't my choice.
I clenched my jaw.
"You enchanted me. That wasn't my will."
Erevan's expression didn't falter.
"Perhaps not at first. But the more you stay here, the more you will understand. This bond between us—it is inevitable."
I forced myself to sit up, my limbs still heavy with the remnants of his spell.
"What do you want from me?"
He stood then, stepping toward a beautifully carved wardrobe against the wall. With a flick of his wrist, the doors swung open, revealing a gown of shimmering emerald silk.
It was undeniably beautiful—embroidered with silver vines and delicate star-shaped flowers. But the sight of it sent an icy dread curling in my gut.
"You are the Prime Apex," he said, lifting the gown with reverence.
"And I am the only one who truly understands your potential. Oregon and the others? They are fools, clinging to outdated traditions. But with me, you will not just fulfill your destiny—you will reshape it."
I glared at him.
"My destiny is my own. Not yours to control."
Erevan sighed, as if disappointed.
"You are still resisting. But that will change."
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, willing my strength to return.
"I won't go through with this."
He smiled again, that same unsettling patience in his gaze.
"We shall see."
Before I could retort, the chamber door creaked open, and a tall figure entered. It was an elf woman, her dark hair braided with silver rings, her emerald robes matching Erevan's.
Her face was sharp, unreadable, but the way she regarded me sent another wave of unease crawling up my spine.
"The preparations are complete, my lord," she said smoothly.
"The ceremony will begin at sundown."
Erevan inclined his head.
"Excellent."
The woman's gaze flickered to me.
"The bride should be made ready."
Panic flared in my chest. No. No, I couldn't let this happen.
As the door opened, I saw my chance. I bolted, racing outside—
Only to freeze.
Hundreds of dark elves stood in formation, circling the chamber where I had been held. Their eyes locked onto me, unreadable, unwavering.
The chamber wasn't just a room—it was a prison. There was no escape.
Erevan stepped toward me, his violet eyes gleaming.
"Be a good girl, Leighton. This will all be much easier if you do not resist."
A wisp of white smoke drifted from his lips—and the moment it touched my face, I felt it.
The loss of control.
I clenched my teeth as two more elven women entered, moving toward me with practiced grace. They reached for my arms, guiding me away from the bed as if I were a doll to be dressed.
I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream. But my limbs refused to obey.
Erevan had done it again. The spell. I couldn't even speak my mind.
The gown fit too perfectly. The soft emerald fabric draped over me like a whisper, yet it felt like chains.
The women adorned my hair with delicate silver vines, weaving them through the strands as if I were already some docile bride waiting to be wed.
I stood before the mirror, my reflection a cruel mockery of my own autonomy.
Erevan approached from behind, his gaze drinking in the sight of me.
"You look exquisite," he murmured.
His fingers brushed my shoulder, sending revulsion crawling over my skin.
"It will be soon."
I refused to meet his eyes in the mirror—but when I looked at my reflection, I saw myself smiling.
Creepy.
"This isn't real."
My heart pounded. I had to break free.
But how?
As if jolted from a daydream, a sudden scream rang through the air from outside the chamber—then another.
Chaos erupted.
Erevan stiffened, his gaze snapping toward the door before he rushed outside.
And then, I heard it.
A voice inside my mind.
"Leighton."
It sounded like Dylan. But also like Vlad.
"Go outside. Now."
Since Erevan was no longer by my side, I found myself obeying.
Slowly, I opened the door and peered outside.
Dark elves were clashing with light elves. Oregon's people.
My only chance.