CHAPTER 9
1531 Words
SERIS slowly opened her eyes. She blinked against the golden light streaming in from the tall windows of the room. The sheets beneath her were soft. And the air smelled like pine, smoke, and lavender. The smell was nothing like the sterile rot of the Black Tower.
Thinking of the Black Tower, Seris directly sat up and looked around.
She was confused when she saw that the room was unfamiliar.
The room was different from the Black Tower, where all she could see was the chain and the cold metal table. The room has high ceilings, dark wooden beams, books on the shelves, but most importantly, there were no chains, potions, no chanting of spells, and there were no cold metal tables that would torture her.
“Where am I?” Seris asked.
She felt like she was living a dream.
Seris slipped her feet onto the floor. Her steps were slow and cautious, as if she were afraid she would awaken something or someone sleeping. When she passed by the full-length mirror, she stopped and looked at herself, wearing a clean gown, and her arms bore no fresh bruises.
Then she touched the necklace—the moon and thorned rose—laying still against her chest.
Seris walked barefoot quietly toward the window.
The sunlight hit her face, and for one blissful moment, she closed her eyes.
She felt the peace that she hadn’t felt in years.
But then her eyes opened when she heard noises below. She looked down and saw the stone courtyard, and there were men sparring. They were bare-chested, muscular, and fast. Their movements were efficient, brutal, and beautiful. But she could smell their scent.
“Wolves…” she whispered.
She knew werewolves because of the Poison Witch. While she was in the dungeon or lying against the cold metal table, Nyxaria would tell her stories about werewolves and witches as if she were putting a child to sleep.
Nyxaria once told her that she was one of them—a werewolf, and her blood was mixed with a witch’s blood. She told her that she was a curse that needed to be eliminated, but Nyxaria was saved and, according to her, she must be grateful.
But how could she be grateful if she was tortured for half of her life?
Suddenly, Seris became confused about herself as she couldn’t help but think about why she could smell wolves now, unlike before. Her sense of smell when she was in the Black Tower was immune to the smell of potions and venom.
Seris clutched her head as images flashed into her mind—images she couldn’t understand and couldn’t remember when they happened.
‘Seris…’
Seris suddenly looked around the room. “Who are you?”
‘Don’t be afraid. I’m your wolf. I’m Ember.’
She closed her eyes, and she saw a silver wolf. “My wolf… It’s you. The one who was talking to me?”
‘Yes, I am. But Nyxaria had done something to me. I couldn’t sense anything. I’m sorry.’
“It’s okay, Ember. But I’m glad that I can talk to you.”
‘I’ve been dormant for a long time. I’m still recovering. Maybe in a few weeks or months, we can regain what we have lost.’
Seris opened her eyes. “Sleep, Ember. Wake up when you’re ready.”
Ember didn’t speak anymore.
Seris looked down again, and she saw a man with a tall figure. His ash-gray eyes lifted and found hers.
Their eyes met.
Seris felt like everything inside her stopped. The man’s gaze wasn’t cruel or crazy like the Poison Witch. It also didn’t wear a threatening gaze. But she felt like he saw her, deeply, like he'd been searching for her face in a thousand dreams.
Her heart beats so fast.
Suddenly, she felt panicked, and she ducked. Her back slammed against the cold wall beneath the window frame. Her chest was rising and falling like she’d just run for miles.
“He saw me.”
Seris didn’t know what to do as her hand trembled. She didn’t know where she was, who that man was, and whether this place was safe or just another cage dressed in sunlight.
The calm shattered like glass in her chest.
When she was in the Black Tower, she learned how to survive and obey. That was the rule she grew up with from the Poison Witch.
And something about that man, especially his beautiful eyes, didn’t scream danger.
But Seris knew that danger wore many faces, and she had learned not to trust beautiful ones.
And later, before Seris could run away, the door opened and the man with ash-gray eyes entered the room.
Seris flinched.
She crouched beneath the window, and her fingers dug into the edge of the curtain. Her breath caught as she heard quiet and deliberate steps enter the room.
Seris remained hidden, eyes watching from the corner, heart pounding like a hunted thing. She doesn’t know if she’s safe or in danger.
Cassian, who entered the room, sighed, seeing his mate hiding from him.
‘Man, our mate was afraid of you.’
‘You mean ‘us’, Fraizer.’ Cassian corrected.
‘Well, it’s just you because it was you, she saw, not me, man.’
Cassian shook his head at his wolf. Then his voice broke the silence. He did his best not to scare his mate, using a low, smooth, and gentle voice.
“You don’t have to hide.”
But Seris didn’t move.
“You’re safe here.”
Hearing those words, Seris slowly stood, not fully though, just enough to rise to her feet and keep the bed between them. She was in defensive mode.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice rough and dry.
The man stood near the door, his hands at his sides, offering no threat, but Seris didn’t believe it.
“I’m Cassian,” he said. “Your mate.”
Seris blinked. “Mate?” the word echoed in her head. “What is mate?”
Cassian’s brow furrowed slightly, not in frustration but in surprise. “You don’t know what a mate is?” he asked.
Seris didn’t answer. Her eyes wandered around the room again, scanning for exits, weapons, or threats. “Where am I?”
“You’re at my mansion,” Cassian replied calmly. “Far from the Black Tower. No one will hurt you here.”
Seris’s expression didn’t soften. She didn’t seem comforted but only more confused.
Cassian took a careful step forward, calculating not to scare Seris. “You were unconscious when we found you. You were bleeding—” —Seris looked at her arms— “—exhausted. You’ve been healing and asleep for days.”
Still, there was no recognition in her eyes. So, Cassian spoke again, “Your wolf. She’s still sleeping, isn’t she?”
Seris stiffened. Since Ember went to sleep earlier, she hadn’t heard any word from her. “She’s resting,” she admitted. “Still recovering.”
“That’s why you can’t feel it,” Cassian said. “The bond.”
Seris shook her head, eyes narrowing. “Bond? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. All she knew was venom and poison.
“You will know in time,” Cassian said softly.
Seris tilted her head. “If this is a prison in disguise,” she warned as her silver eyes gleamed, just for a moment, “I’ll burn it down.”
Cassian didn’t flinch, like he was already expecting it. “Then it’s a good thing, it’s not.” He smiled softly.
They stood in silence. The distance between them was wide, but something unseen was already beginning to stir between their souls.
Later, Seris held onto her stomach.
“Are you hungry?” Cassian asked.
Seris didn’t answer.
“Stay here. I’ll ask someone to dress you,” Cassian said and turned toward the toward. He glanced at Seris one last time. His expression was unreadable, calm, but not cold.
Cassian opened the door and stepped into the hallway, where Isla, Beta Noah’s younger sister, stood waiting—her eyes were alert and respectful.
“Alpha,” Isla greeted and bowed her head.
“Isla, dress her. Something soft and comfortable for her.”
Isla nodded. “Of course, Alpha.”
“Take her to the dining hall after. She needs real food, but don’t rush her.”
“Understood, Alpha.”
Cassian nodded and then spoke in a lower voice, quiet enough for only Isla to hear. “She doesn’t remember what ‘mate’ means and her wolf is asleep.”
Isla’s eyes showed sympathy and concern. “I’ll be gentle, Alpha.”
“Good.”
And with that, Cassian turned and walked away, leaving Isla to the task.
Meanwhile, Seris stood quietly, staring at her hands, wondering why they trembled.
She had escaped one kind of captivity… but what was this?
And why did she feel that the magic inside her had gone quiet?
Seris felt something inside her… a kind of peace that she never felt while she was in the Black Tower.
- Writer
