The Council of Shadows

The next morning, the fortress came alive with whispers. Footsteps echoed down endless corridors lined with silver torches that burned with black flame. Aria followed a silent guard through the labyrinth of halls, her wrists cold from the iron cuffs that shimmered faintly with runes.

Every step deepened the ache beneath her skin — the bond pulsing, alive, restless.

She could feel him.

Lucien’s presence throbbed faintly at the edge of her mind, a pull that wasn’t physical but spiritual, like an invisible thread tugging at her heart. When he was near, the world seemed to tremble. When he was far, she felt it like frost in her veins.

The guard stopped before a massive door carved with serpents and eyes. “The Council awaits,” he said, his voice hollow.

The door opened, and the room beyond seemed carved from night itself. Seven figures sat around a crescent table — robed, faceless, ancient. At the head sat Lucien, calm and radiant in his cruelty. His silver eyes flicked toward her, unreadable.

The moment she stepped inside, the air changed. Power rippled across the chamber, pressing down on her shoulders like invisible chains.

“Aria Vale,” one of the Council members intoned. “Witch of the Valean bloodline. Cursed by her own hand.”

“I didn’t curse myself,” Aria said quietly. “I saved him.”

“Saved,” another voice sneered. “You merged your soul with the Venom King. You’ve tainted yourself with his darkness.”

Her fists clenched. “Then take it out of me. Break it.”

Lucien leaned back in his chair, voice smooth as silk. “You think I haven’t tried? Her magic and mine have fused. She’s bound to me now. Sever the bond, and she dies.”

The words sliced through the room like thunder.

A pause followed, heavy and cold. Then the eldest member spoke. “Then she will live — as his tether.”

Aria’s breath hitched. “His what?”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to hers, dangerous, warning her not to speak. But the Council continued. “The bond can be used. Her light suppresses the curse. As long as she remains close, the poison in your veins will remain dormant.”

“And if she runs?” Lucien asked softly.

“Then your curse will awaken. And she will die within hours.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Aria’s chest tightened, fury rising like fire. “You’re using me as a leash.”

Lucien rose from his seat, cloak unfurling behind him like smoke. “Enough.” His voice was quiet, but it silenced the entire chamber. “She’s under my protection. Touch her, and I’ll burn this Council to ash.”

The threat was not an exaggeration — it was a promise.

When the session ended, Lucien’s hand found her arm, his touch cold yet possessive. “You wanted freedom,” he murmured as he led her out. “Now you have none.”

She jerked away, glaring. “You think I’ll just stay here, chained to your curse?”

Lucien’s smile was almost tender — almost. “Not chained, witchling. Chosen. The gods did this, not me.”

But when he looked at her, his eyes gleamed with something far more human than divine — hunger, pain, and a dangerous kind of longing that could swallow them both.

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