The return to chains

The return to chains
Selene’s POV

Two days.
Two long, silent, two days since Aeron left.

The wind outside howled like it mourned something lost, brushing against the walls of village as if it too searched for him. I sat on my bed, my hands limp on my lap, staring blankly at the faint shimmer of moonlight slipping through the window bars.

“Maybe he likes it there,” I muttered, my voice small and bitter. “Maybe he enjoys Amera’s company.”

The words stung, and yet I said them anyway — because it was easier than admitting what I truly felt. I missed him.
Every thought of his dark eyes, every echo of his laughter, twisted inside me like a blade.

“He’s not my mate anymore,” I whispered to the empty room, clenching my fists. “I don’t need to think of him.”

But my heart betrayed me with every beat.

The night stretched heavy and cold. The Blood Moon was only two nights away, its energy already brushing against my skin like static.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, Aeron’s face appeared — his voice, his scent, the warmth that once wrapped me like armor. I tossed and turned, until a sudden, sharp knock echoed through the stillness.

My head snapped up. Midnight?
Who could it be?

Lira never came to me at this hour. My pulse quickened — wild, foolish hope lighting in my chest.

“Aeron?” I breathed, already half-rising. “Is that you?”

The knocking came again — faster now, more urgent.

Maybe it was him. Maybe he’d come back.

I didn’t stop to think; I hurried barefoot across the room and pulled open the door.

“Who—”

The word died on my lips.

It wasn’t Aeron.

It was Harold.

He stood in the doorway, shadows cutting across his face, his eyes glinting with something cold and cruel. “Hello, Selene.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Before I could even move, his hand shot forward — grabbing my arm, hard.

“Harold—? What—”

He didn’t answer. He pressed a handkerchief over my mouth and nose. A sharp, sweet, poisonous scent filled my lungs. I struggled, clawing at his wrist, but my limbs grew heavy — numb.

“Don’t fight it,” I heard him whisper, his voice fading as the world tilted sideways. “You’re going home.”

My vision blurred. The room spun. Then — nothing.

⸻

When I opened my eyes again, the air was thick and damp. A familiar chill crept into my bones. Chains clinked faintly with my movement. I blinked hard, fighting to see through the dim torchlight.

Stone walls. Rusted bars. The stench of blood and old despair.

“No…” I breathed, my voice cracking. “No, no, no.”

I tugged at the chains locked around my ankles. They rattled, unyielding. Panic surged through me. I knew this place — every shadow, every cruel whisper in the walls.

The palace dungeons.

“I’m back here?” I gasped, disbelief and terror clawing at my throat. “Harold took me back here? He—he betrayed us!”

I remembered what happened at night, I clenched my fist. “How could you…” I whispered into the dark. “How could you do this?”

Then came the sound of footsteps — slow, deliberate, echoing through the corridor like the tolling of a bell.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I froze, breath caught in my chest. The scent of incense and iron filled the air — a scent I’d prayed never to face again.

From the shadows at the end of the hall, a figure emerged.

“Welcome back, my red girl.”

The voice was soft, mocking — and unmistakably familiar.

High Priest Eleazar.

His robes trailed behind him like the folds of a serpent. The torchlight painted his face in cruel gold — his eyes gleaming with something almost inhuman.

He smiled — not warmly, but like a predator savoring its prey.

My blood ran cold.

“Eleazar…” I whispered, horror tightening every muscle in my body.

He tilted his head, as though admiring his handiwork. “You didn’t think you could run from fate, did you?”

His grin widened, and in it, I saw no trace of holiness — only a demon wearing the skin of a priest.

The chains clattered faintly as I tried to pull away, but there was nowhere left to run.

“Where is the hero slave boy?” Eleazar’s voice slithered through the darkness, venom dripping from every word. “Is he still alive, or did he die because of you?”

My breath hitched. My heart stopped. Luke.

He meant Luke.

My hands trembled against the cold chains as his name echoed inside me like a wound reopening. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes before I could stop them.

“Don’t—” My voice broke. “Don’t you dare speak his name.”

Eleazar’s grin widened, sharp as the edge of a blade. He stepped closer, his boots clicking on the stone floor, his eyes glowing faintly orange in the torchlight.

“Oh, but I must,” he said, mock sympathy twisting his tone. “Such a brave little slave. So foolishly loyal. He believed he could save you, didn’t he? Such courage wasted on a cursed creature.”

“Shut up!” I shouted, tugging hard at the chains, the metal biting into my wrists. “You killed him! You’re a demon—you murdered him, and he was innocent!”

Eleazar threw his head back and laughed — a horrible, hollow sound that filled the dungeon like smoke.

“Oh, really?” he said, wiping a false tear from his eye. “What a poor boy indeed. He’s dead, Selene. But I didn’t kill him.” His eyes narrowed, gleaming with cruel delight. “You did.”

The words hit me like a blade through the heart. Tears streamed down my cheeks, unstoppable now. “You twisted monster… you’re the reason he’s gone!”

Eleazar smiled, unbothered, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered, “And soon, you will follow him.”

He stood again, straightening his robes with calm precision. “The Blood Moon approaches, my red girl. Two nights from now, your blood will finally serve its purpose. The gods will be pleased—and I will be reborn.”

“You’ll never win,” I said through gritted teeth, fury burning beneath the grief. “You think you can control fate, but it’ll destroy you.”

Eleazar paused at the doorway, his silhouette framed by torchlight. “Perhaps,” he said, turning his head just enough for me to see his sinister smile. “But you won’t live long enough to see it.”

Then he was gone, his laughter echoing down the corridor, leaving me alone in the darkness — with nothing but chains, grief, and the memory of Luke’s smile haunting my heart.

“I’ll make you pay,” I whispered to the empty cell, my tears drying into resolve. “For Luke… for my parents.”