Lyra should have gone upstairs. She knew it. But something about the shift in air… the silence that followed Adrian's departure… the unnatural beauty of those guests—had frozen her feet in place.
Instead, she lingered behind a grand marble pillar near the dining hall's edge, peering into a realm she wasn't meant to witness.
The four guests stood like demigods beneath the chandeliers. The tension in the room wasn't just sharp—it was ancient. Like this gathering had happened before, lifetimes ago, and tonight was simply another chapter.
The woman—goddess-like and terrifying—seemed to command the room with every breath. She stepped forward, her heels slicing through the silence, her long hair trailing like a veil of starlight. Her pale skin was inked with silvery tattoos that glowed faintly when she moved. Her eyes burned violet fire.
She was called Xanthe, a name that crackled with authority.
Her lips twisted the moment she halted in front of Adrian. "What is this stench?" she snapped, voice like crushed diamonds. "It reeks of… a woman."
Adrian stood unmoved near the fireplace, arms folded behind his back, face carved from apathy. "Xanthe."
"I asked you something." Her gaze scanned the room with disgust. "You brought another female into this house? Your house?"
"She is under contract," he replied coolly. "That is all."
Xanthe's jaw clenched. "You had no right. No right." Her voice turned venomous. "Do you think you can toss me aside like I'm nothing?"
"She is not you," Adrian answered simply. "She never will be."
Xanthe's eyes flashed. And before anyone could move—before a sound could even register—she vanished.
Then reappeared.
In front of Lyra.
Lyra gasped.
A pale hand wrapped around her throat.
Lifted her into the air.
Her heels kicked against nothing.
She couldn't scream.
She couldn't breathe.
Xanthe's violet eyes bore into hers with the heat of a thousand suns.
"You dare bring her here?" she barked toward Adrian, though her grip never loosened. "This… mortal. This replacement. You brought her here while I—"
"Release her," Adrian said, calm as winter.
"I will not!" Xanthe hissed. "I gave up everything for you. I was meant to be yours. And now you mock me with a child in emeralds?"
"She is not yours to touch."
"Then why is she here?!"
Adrian didn't answer.
None of the guests moved.
The three men stood like statues, watching, understanding. This wasn't new. Xanthe had always burned too brightly.
The one in white—his name was Kaelith—stepped slightly forward, his snow-white eyes flickering with unease. "Xanthe… don't."
The red-clad man, Valefor, didn't speak, but his jaw flexed. He remained perfectly still, arms crossed. Always the disciplinarian.
And the one in blue—Seren—fidgeted, eyes flicking nervously between Lyra and Adrian. "Uh… maybe let the girl breathe? Kinda looks like she's dying."
Xanthe ignored them all.
Lyra's vision blurred. Her lungs begged. Her mind screamed for answers.
And still—
Adrian didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't reach out.
Just watched, his silver eyes as detached as always.
"You care nothing for her," Xanthe said, lowering Lyra slightly, though her grip remained. "Then why is she here?"
"She is part of my plan."
Xanthe's gaze sharpened. "Plan?"
Adrian nodded. "You'll understand… eventually."
"You're using her."
"Yes."
Silence.
And then Xanthe dropped Lyra.
She hit the marble with a choking gasp, coughing violently, her fingers clutching her throat as her vision spun. The servants didn't move. The guards remained statues. This was normal. This was expected.
"I hate her," Xanthe whispered.
"She is not meant to be liked."
"She doesn't belong in our world."
"She will adapt."
"You think you're untouchable," Xanthe muttered, turning to face him. "But love, Adrian… love ruins even gods."
Adrian turned his back to her. "Good thing I feel nothing."
Lyra sat trembling at the pillar's base, chest heaving.
And yet, as the conversation resumed among the others—casual now, as if no one had nearly been murdered—she realized something far more terrifying than death.
Adrian Blackthorn had truly meant what he said.
She was nothing but a tool.
And in this house of gods and monsters…
She had no one.
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