The world outside had fallen silent.
Selene moved as if in a dream — or a nightmare — led by Lucien's quiet, commanding presence.
His hand never touched her again, yet somehow she felt tethered to him, like a moth drawn to a flame it could not escape. Each step he took reverberated through the cracked stones of the ancient Ruins, pulling her deeper into the heart of forbidden places no living soul had dared to tread.
Moonlight broke through shattered ceilings, casting silver pools across the ground. The dead assassins were already vanishing — absorbed by the greedy stones, as if the Ruins themselves were hungry for blood.
Selene shivered but stumbled after him, too afraid to stay behind, too entranced to flee.
They passed through an archway wrapped in black vines, thorns glistening like obsidian teeth. Beyond it, a stairwell spiraled downward into the earth, each step etched with runes older than memory.
Lucien descended without hesitation.
Selene hesitated only a heartbeat before following.
The air grew colder as they went, heavy with the scent of damp stone and ancient magic.
Somewhere far above, she thought she heard another howl — something monstrous, something searching — but it faded into the endless dark.
Finally, they reached a vast cavern.
It should have been a tomb.
Instead, it was a palace.
The Citadel of Shadows.
Black spires rose from the cavern floor, twisting into the darkness like frozen smoke. Bridges of glass and bone arched between them, delicate and deadly. Ghostly lights flickered in sconces carved from dragonbone, illuminating murals of war, betrayal, and ruin.
At the center stood a throne — broken, yet still terrible.
Lucien paused before it.
Selene hovered behind him, heart in her throat.
He stood there for a long time, gazing at the shattered remnants of his rule.
Selene couldn't help but look at him.
He was a living contradiction — breathtakingly beautiful, yet exuding an aura so lethal it made the air itself feel thin. Hair like dark silk fell across broad shoulders. His clothes were simple — black linen, torn at the sleeves — yet even the ruin of him outshone any mortal king.
She remembered the stories whispered in terror: The Forsaken King. The Monster of Empires. The Lover of Death.
And now she stood behind him, trembling, unarmed, bleeding, utterly at his mercy.
Lucien spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her bones.
"You entered my prison, little star," he said without turning. "You broke the chains meant to hold me until the end of days."
Selene opened her mouth — but no words came.
"I should destroy you," he mused, almost lazily. "That was the pact."
Selene's knees weakened.
"But..." Lucien finally turned to face her, his gaze unreadable. "Fate rarely dances to the tunes of mortals — or monsters."
He approached.
Each step he took seemed to make the shadows bend toward him, as if the very night worshiped at his feet.
Selene pressed herself against one of the stone pillars, desperate to put distance between them — even though she knew it was useless.
Lucien stopped only inches from her.
He lifted his hand — slowly, as if giving her time to run, knowing she wouldn't.
His fingers brushed the cut on her cheek.
Selene flinched — but not from pain.
The touch was cold, yes — but it also carried something else.
Something like... hunger.
Or longing.
Or perhaps the ghost of something far more dangerous: mercy.
Lucien's mouth curved — not into a smile, but into something sharper.
"You bleed so easily," he murmured. "So fragile. So foolish."
Selene swallowed hard.
"But you have awakened me, little star," he continued. "And now you are mine, whether you will it or not."
The ground shivered beneath them — a tremor deep in the earth, a whisper of the awakening powers.
Lucien tilted his head slightly, studying her.
"Tell me your name," he ordered, voice low and devastating.
Selene's throat tightened.
"Selene," she whispered.
A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips.
"Selene," he repeated, tasting the sound like a promise or a threat.
He stepped back — and the spell of closeness snapped, leaving her dizzy, gasping.
"Rest," Lucien said, with all the finality of a king declaring law."You will need your strength for what is to come."
Without waiting for her reply, he turned and strode toward the heart of the Citadel.
Selene remained frozen, heart pounding, hands trembling.
In the distance, far above the cavern ceiling, the first true storm in a thousand years began to rage across the world — a world that had forgotten Lucien, and would now remember him all too well.
And Selene — the girl who had dared to awaken him — would be the first to pay the price.