The moment I stepped into the crypt, the ground beneath my bare feet changed.
The soft earth gave way to something colder, rougher— stone, cracked and worn with time. I felt it beneath my bare feet. The uneven surface scraped against my soles, completely different from the damp grass outside.
A stale, heavy air pressed down on me, and dust flowed around me as I took a step further.
I froze, then sneezed. The sound echoed so sharply in the vast, empty space that it made me stiffen further, my heartbeat thundering against my ribs.
For a moment, I half-expected something to emerge from the darkness—to reach out and drag me into the depths of hell.
And yet, hell was said to be freezing cold. Would it be colder than this crypt?
A shiver ran down my spine. I hoped not. I walked forward. Or at least, I think I did. It felt like I had been moving for an eternity, each step drowned in silence. Was I going in circles?
Then, suddenly—
A whisper.
"Follow the red thread." A male's voice resounded.
I froze.
My breath hitched. My body tensed, muscles coiling like a trapped animal's.
"Who's there?" I whispered, voice barely above a breath. No response.
But then—
"Don't be afraid, little one."
This voice was different.
Deeper. Velvet-soft. A whisper against my skin, almost a caress.
Why did these voices sound so… familiar?
A strange pull twisted in my chest. Something deep inside me stirred—a feeling I couldn't explain.
I gasped as the cold weight on my wrists suddenly loosened.
The cuffs.
They slid from my skin, clattering to the stone floor with a hollow clang.
I froze, my pulse hammering.
Who—?
Who had removed them?
Was someone here? Standing right in front of me?
A fresh wave of unease washed over me.
What if I reached out and touched something—or someone?
What if they weren't human?
What if they were dangerous? What if it was the Lycan?
"Follow the red thread."
The first voice spoke again, calm, unwavering. I swallowed hard.
"But… I can't see it," I whispered, my voice small. Silence.
Then—another whisper. "She's blind?"
The words weren't directed at me I realized. They were speaking to each other. "Seems so," the second voice murmured, almost thoughtfully.
I frowned. Then—a sudden tug. On the fourth finger of my left hand "Uh—what… what is happening?" I whispered.
"Follow the thread," the voice repeated, more insistent now. But this time, I felt it.
A thread. It was a thread. Tugging at my finger, as if guiding me forward.
I exhaled shakily, my fingers twitching as I curled them into my palm. Finally, I took a deep breath—and followed.
The soft taps of my bare feet were the only sounds that echoed in the silence. It was as if the voices had never existed at all.
Had I imagined them? Were they just… ghosts inside my own mind? I was so lost in my thoughts that I gasped when my toe hit something hard.
A step.
"Be careful… there are stairs," the voice called out again. I nodded hesitantly, gripping the fabric of my dress as I carefully stepped up.
"Are… you the Lycan King?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
But something felt off. I had heard two different voices. Neither of the two creatures had a scent.
And yet… the entire crypt was shrouded in the soft, distinct scent of sandalwood.
Pheromones. A lycan's pheromones.
The voice didn't answer, and I had no choice but to keep walking. Step after step. My breath came in shallow gasps as I dragged myself upward, my body straining with each movement.
How much farther?
Then—the thread stopped pulling.
I waited.
Silence.
I reached forward with my hand only to realize there was a wall right in front of me. I frowned. Was this…a dead end?
A long pause stretched out before me.
Then—
A deep, grinding groan shattered the silence.
The sound was loud, inhuman. I gasped, stumbling back.
Oh.
No.
I was going to fall.
I barely had time to process what was happening before a gust of air rushed at my falling back, icy and unnatural. I shivered as I was pushed forward instead of falling backwards.
"Th-thank you," I whispered shakily, even though I didn't know who—or what—had steadied me.
For some reason, despite the fear curling in my chest…
I almost felt safe. But that was probably just my own stupidity.
I stepped forward. The temperature dropped even further. It was freezing. Almost like snow was falling around me.
I kept moving forward as the thread tugged again.
And then—
My fingertips brushed against something solid.
I froze.
Slowly, I reached out, tracing my hands over the object in front of me. Wood from below. But then something else on top. A barrier of glass.
Something was sealed inside?
I knocked against it.
That was a mistake.
I barely had time to process the thought before—
A loud crack sounded.
The glass shattered.
I gasped as shards cascaded around me, landing with sharp, crisp clinks against the stone floor.
The scent of sandalwood thickened, enveloping me, wrapping around me like a second skin.
I knew, instinctively.
This was him.
The sleeping Lycan.
I stood frozen.
How long? I wasn't sure.
Then, slowly—hesitantly—I reached inside. I could tell this was a rectangular box, probably a coffin in which he lay…like the rumors had said.
My fingers brushed against…skin.
Warm.
Smooth.
Soft.
Not dead.
I swallowed hard.
I traced my fingertips up, grazing his cheek.
His eyelashes tickled my skin.
His nose—straight, regal, perfect.
I felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm.
He was breathing.
But he wasn't waking up.
Not when I brushed my fingers over his lips.
Soft. Warm. Shaped into a perfect cupid's bow.
A thought surfaced in my mind.
A childhood memory where I had, like many times, eavesdropped as the Luna told stories to the little kids.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs….I think it was called?
A princess, poisoned by a witch.
A handsome prince, awakening her with a kiss.
The memory clung to me.
Why was I thinking about this now?
I wasn't a princess. I was a sacrifice.
And yet—
Something burned inside me.
A pull.
A need.
Before I could stop myself—before I could think—
I leaned down.
And kissed him.
The moment our lips met, I gasped.
I jerked back, horror crashing into me.
What had I done? I had never even kissed Lucian before. What had come over me?
I—
I wasn't—
The next moment, scalding-hot fingers encircled mine.
I barely had time to breathe before something pulled me downward into the coffin.
A loud rattle.
I landed against something solid like a hard chest.
And then—
Lips.
Hard. Hot. Unyielding.
Pressed against mine.
I panicked.
I struggled.
I tried to pull away, but when I felt a sharp tug on my lower lip I gasped—
A tongue swept into my mouth then, claiming me.
Heat coiled deep inside my abdomen, a strange, unfamiliar sensation flooding through me.
I trembled.
My body melted, caving under the pressure of something powerful.
We kissed for what felt like an eternity. Until I ran out of oxygen completely.
And when I finally pounded my fists against his chest, weak and breathless—
He let me go.
My breath came in short, desperate gasps.
Then—
Hands wrapped around the back of my neck.
A whisper, dark and raspy with sleep.
"You dare wake me, little one? Then bear the consequences."
A shiver ran up my spine.
I felt canines pierce my throat.
I cried out.
He was marking me?
I was being claimed by a Lycan…
Was I finally going to die then?