Chapter 4: The Taste of Terror

The torches flickered, casting restless shadows along the cold stone walls of Draven's dungeons.

The scent of rusted iron, old blood, and despair hung heavy in the air. Screams echoed faintly in the distance, short-lived bursts of agony extinguished before they could build into anything meaningful.

Draven descended the narrow staircase with the grace of a predator, his crimson eyes gleaming with hunger.

Death was a necessity, but suffering, ah,that was an art. Tonight, he was in the mood for something exquisite.

Two guards had escorted him to the farthest cell. Inside, a woman huddled in chains, her frail body shivering from both fear and the cold that seeped into her bones. Once a noble lady, she was now a pitiful shell,

broken by days of captivity.

Her tear-streaked face lifted as Draven entered, her lips parting with a feeble whimper.

"Please" she whispered pitifully, barely able to form the word.

Draven smiled, a slow, predatory smile that promised nothing but ruin.

"How fascinating" he murmured. "Even now, you cling to hope."

He stepped inside the cell, the door groaning shut behind him. She tried to retreat, but the chains bit into

her wrists, keeping her in place.

The click of Draven's boots echoed in the confined space, filling the air with

the kind of silence that suffocates.

He knelt beside her, his cold fingers brushing against her cheek. The touch sent a violent shiver down her spine.

"What a foolish thing hope is," Draven whispered, as if speaking to a child. "But let me show you the truth."

Before the woman could respond, Draven's hand darted forward, shattering the shackles that held her in place.

For a fleeting moment, a spark of hope flared in her glassy eyes.

That spark was snuffed out the moment his hand closed around her throat.

"No one will save you," he whispered, dragging her closer. "No one even remembers you exist."

The woman gasped, a desperate, broken sound, and Draven's smile deepened. Her heart pounded beneath his palm,

each beat a futile rebellion against the inevitable. He leaned in, his cold breath ghosting over her skin.

And then, without hesitation, he sank his fangs into her throat.

Her body convulsed as the sharp puncture tore into her flesh. Blood rushed into Draven's mouth, warm and coppery,

a fleeting burst of life that he drank slowly, savoring every moment. Her cries faded into soft, pitiful gasps as the light drained from her eyes.

He fed with deliberate cruelty, drawing out her suffering, savoring the sound of her pulse weakening with each passing second.

Her body trembled against him, but there was no fight left. She was nothing more than a vessel, bleeding out for his pleasure.

As Draven indulged, the faintest sound stirred behind him, a whisper of movement too quiet for most to notice. But Draven

knew exactly who it was.

He didn't stop.

Selene stood in the doorway, her dark eyes fixed on the scene before her. The dim torchlight flickered across her pale

features, casting her in shadows. She watched, her gaze cold and unreadable, as if she were observing a mundane chore

rather than a brutal execution.

Draven didn't acknowledge her presence. He continued to drain the woman dry, the crackle of bone and the soft gurgles of

dying breaths filling the silence. The prisoner's life slipped away, her final moments met with complete indifference from both predator and observer.

When Draven finally pulled away, blood smeared across his lips, he let the woman's lifeless body crumple to the ground like

discarded trash. He straightened slowly, dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief.

Selene remained motionless, her expression devoid of disgust or curiosity. She showed no trace of discomfort, not even the flicker of emotion most humans failed to suppress.

Draven tilted his head, intrigued by her apathy.

"You're not even going to flinch?" he asked, his voice a low rumble of amusement.

Selene's dark gaze met his, steady and unyielding.

"Why would I?" she replied softly, as if the question itself were absurd.

Draven stepped closer, his towering presence casting her in shadow. Most would at least pretend to care. A gasp. A grimace. Something.

"I am not most people, I'm princess Selene." Selene said, her voice calm and deliberate.

The corners of Draven's mouth lifted in a slow, dangerous smile. Clearly.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken tension hanging between them. Blood pooled beneath the woman's body, seeping into the cracks in the stone, but neither Draven nor Selene spared it a glance.

She stepped further into the room, her movements smooth and graceful. The smell of death lingered in the air, thick and oppressive, but Selene's expression remained untouched by the scene before her.

"Does it bother you?" Draven asked, his voice low and teasing. "Knowing what I am?"

Selene tilted her head, considering the question. Then she gave a small shrug. "No. Should it?"

"What you are is none of my business. I only need you as a tool."

Draven chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "You might be more dangerous than I thought. You are playing with death."

Selene's gaze sharpened, a flicker of something dark passing through her eyes.

"Danger doesn't bother me," she whispered. "I'm danger itself".

Draven's amusement deepened, his curiosity piqued. She was different, untouched by fear, unmoved by death. In his long existence, he had rarely encountered anyone like her.

Selene's lips curved slightly, a ghost of a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

For the first time in centuries, Draven felt something stir within him, an emotion that was neither hunger nor cruelty, but something far more dangerous.

Interest.

He watched her turn away majestically, her dark hair trailing behind her like a veil of shadows. Selene walked out of the dungeon with the same indifference she had entered, as if death and suffering were nothing more than passing inconveniences.

Draven smiled, the sharp curve of his lips hinting at future chaos. He wiped the last trace of blood from his mouth and followed her, intrigued by the woman who walked among monsters without fear.

Whatever game Selene was playing, Draven intended to learn the rules. And when the time came, he would either break her or

let her break the world beside him.

Because in a kingdom ruled by darkness, only the most heartless could thrive.

And Draven had just found his equal.