Chapter 4: Aching Dawn

[Next Day: Morning]

Ovelia's POV

Darkness. Not just the absence of light, but a crushing, suffocating presence that pressed against my skin, cold and clammy like a tomb. The silence was absolute, broken only by the ragged rasp of my own breath, each inhale a desperate struggle against the weight of the void. A metallic tang, like old blood, clung to the back of my throat. Panic clawed at my chest.

Where was I?

Then, a flicker. A tiny pinprick of light, like a distant star breaking through the night. Without thinking, I ran toward it, my bare feet slapping against an unseen surface. The light grew brighter, warmer, until it engulfed me, and suddenly, I was standing in a forest. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, but the darkness lingered, clinging to the trees like a shroud.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a man, his form shimmering in hues of blue, like a ghostly flame. His voice was low, tinged with hesitation. "Are we really going to do this, Viana?"

Before I could react, another figure appeared, this one glowing faintly green. A woman. Her voice was soft but resolute, carrying a weight of sorrow and determination. "Yes, Oliver. It's the only way to reveal the truth when the time comes. And to protect her."

Her voice. It was familiar. It was the another voice I'd heard in my mind.

Then, a third figure materialized—small, fragile, and glowing white. A baby? The woman—Viana—closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, her lips moving in a silent prayer. "Firera, goddess of our tribe, please protect her. Grant her the power to mend this broken world."

I wanted to speak, to ask who they were, who I was in all of this. But my voice was trapped, locked away as if it had never existed. My throat burned with the effort, but no sound came.

Suddenly, a fourth figure appeared—a shadow darker than the night itself. Its eyes glowed red, mirroring my own, and it moved toward me with terrifying speed. Before I could react, its hands were around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. I clawed at its grip, but it was like fighting smoke. My vision blurred, my chest heaved, and I couldn't breathe—

"Wake up!" it hissed, its voice a venomous whisper that echoed in my skull.

I jolted awake, gasping for air, my heart pounding like a drum. The cool sheets clung to my damp skin, and I clutched the blanket tightly, as if it could shield me from the lingering terror. It was just a dream. But it felt so real—too real.

Was this the first time I'd dreamed? Or was it the first time I remembered?

The black shadow's voice—it was the same one that had spoken in my mind. Was this dream a glimpse of the past? A warning? My hands trembled as I pushed the hair from my face, my breath still uneven.

The cool sheets brushed against my bare skin, a stark reminder of my vulnerability. A wave of memories from the previous night crashed over me, and I felt a dull ache in my back, a physical echo of what had transpired.

I sat up slowly, my body stiff and sore, and wrapped the blanket tightly around myself. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I realized I hadn't showered before falling asleep. Exhaustion had claimed me, my tears drying on my cheeks as I succumbed to the weight of my emotions.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Ace? I hesitated, then called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Ann stepped inside, her bright smile a stark contrast to the heaviness in my chest. "Good morning, Lady Ovelia! Breakfast is ready in the dining area," she announced, her voice bright and melodic, like a songbird greeting the dawn.

"Thank you, Ann," I replied softly, forcing a smile. Her presence was a small comfort, but the weight of last night still pressed heavily on my mind.

Ann bustled around the room, pulling open the curtains to let the sunlight flood in. The room was beautiful—spacious, elegant, and meticulously decorated. But it felt like a gilded cage, its beauty a mask for the emptiness within. My gaze fell on the bed, and I froze. The bloodstains on the sheets were a stark reminder of what had happened. Ace had taken my virginity, and we weren't even married. Confusion and loss washed over me, leaving me feeling hollow.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, shielding my bruises from Ann's curious eyes, and went to the bathroom. The cool tiles beneath my feet sent a shiver up my spine, each step heavy with the weight of my emotions. The air felt thick, as if the walls themselves were closing in on me.

"Lady Ovelia, are you going to take a shower? Wait, let me get your outfit ready," Ann said, her voice bright with enthusiasm. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out a dress, handing it to me with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Ann," I replied, returning her smile as best I could.

Once inside the bathroom, I turned on the water and stepped under the stream, letting it wash over me. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn't erase the memories of last night. The ache in my back, the sting of his words, the way he had looked at me—it all lingered, a shadow I couldn't shake.

When I stepped out, dressed and composed, I found Ann changing the bedsheets. She held up the blood-streaked sheet, her eyes sparkling with a grin. "Lady Ovelia, has Sir Ace marked you last night?" she asked eagerly.

"Marked?" I questioned, confusion knitting my brows.

Ann adjusted her hair, pulling it to the side to reveal a bite mark on her neck. "This!" she said, her voice tinged with excitement.

I shook my head, unable to find the words. Her face fell slightly, disappointment flickering across it. I didn't know how to respond to her mention of a "mark." Still uncertain, I reached for Ann's hand and said, "Let's go eat. I'm starving."

"Wait, Lady Ovelia," Ann said, her brow furrowing as she pointed to a crack in the wall. "What happened here last night?"

I froze, remembering Ace's fist slamming into the wall, his anger boiling over. "I… I don't remember," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ann studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Hmm, okay. I'll call someone later to fix it."

"Thank you, Ann," I said, forcing another smile.

Her smile returned, radiant and reassuring, and together, we headed to the dining area. The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, each step forward feeling like a battle against the weight of my thoughts.

No matter what happened, I needed to smile as if nothing was wrong. I could do this. I was used to this.

•Dining Area•

We arrived at the elegant dining area. My eyes widened at the feast laid before us, magnificent dishes shimmering on the table and maids standing respectfully along the sides. I took my seat, the chair exuding comfort.

"Where's Ace?" I asked Ann, concern and relief slipping into my voice.

"He doesn't eat breakfast, Lady Ovelia," she replied softly, her gaze a mixture of worry and respect for Ace's routines.

As I began eating, I noticed the maids and Ann remained standing, their posture poised and attentive. An array of sumptuous dishes surrounded me, yet I was dining alone.

"Why don't you join me?" I offered, attempting to break the tension. "There's more than enough food."

"No, thank you, Lady Ovelia," Ann gently declined, her voice polite but firm. "We only eat what's left after you're done."

I couldn't help but reflect on my past—when I was left with stale and cold scraps. Yet, they were fortunate; the leftovers here would be fresh, clean, and delicious.

After I finished, a thought struck me. What if I brought food to Ace? Would he be kinder to me?

What was I thinking? He wasn't a dog to be tamed with treats. But I couldn't run away. This was my new life, and my intuition told me Ann was my ally. She wouldn't betray me. I had someone who would take care of me here, so I'd do my best to endure all of this.

I still believed that someday, all my suffering would turn into unexpected happiness, like the fairytales I used to read.

I piled a generous serving of pancakes, waffles, and a steaming cup of coffee onto a tray, my hands trembling slightly as I balanced it.

"Ann, would you mind accompanying me to Ace?" I asked, a hint of uncertainty in my voice. "I'm still unfamiliar with the palace's twists and turns.

"Of course, Lady Ovelia," she replied, reassuring me with a smile breaking through her initial seriousness. "This way."

As we walked through the grand hallways, I sensed the warmth of her presence beside me, a friend guiding me through the unfamiliar territory of nobility.

•Ace's Office•

Ann and I stood nervously outside Ace's office.

"Lady Ovelia, this is where I leave you," Ann said, her voice trembling slightly, tinged with concern.

I smiled reassuringly, then gently knocked on the door. As I turned the handle and stepped inside, I found Ace seated at his desk, a storm brewing in his eyes. It seemed I'd unwittingly disrupted his morning. We locked gazes for a tense thirty seconds, the air thick with unspoken words.

"What are you doing here?" Ace initiated, his tone sharp, slicing through the silence.

"I just brought you breakfast," I replied, aiming for a light-hearted tone as I placed the pancakes and waffles on his desk.

Ace's voice cut in sharply as I set the coffee down, "Didn't Ann tell you I don't eat breakfast?!" His irritation was palpable, echoing in the small space.

Fear jolted through me, catching me off guard. In my panic, I spilled the coffee onto the papers scattered on his desk. My heart raced, a drumbeat of anxiety, as I fumbled to wipe the papers dry, but as I did, one tore beneath my fingers. I glanced at Ace, his fury etched deeply into his features.

"GET OUT!" he thundered, his voice filled with rage.

My heart pounded like a war drum, and a wave of dread washed over me.

"I'm… I'm so sorry," I stuttered, my voice shaking with fear. I turned and quickly left his office, the weight of his anger heavy on my shoulders.

Outside, I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breath. Every pulse in my body felt amplified, the sting of his words still ringing in my ears.

This wasn't what I'd planned. I'd only wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between us. But instead, I'd only made things worse.

Ace's POV

Anger simmered beneath my skin, a low, constant burn. She should hate me. She should despise me after what I did last night. But instead, she brought me breakfast, her kindness starkly contrasting with the cruelty I had shown her. My wolf, however, was pleased; its satisfaction was a low hum in the back of my mind.

Was the pain I caused last night not enough? I wondered bitterly. Do I have to hurt her more to make her hate me?

I looked at the spilled coffee and torn papers on my desk; the guilt surged again, threatening to drown me. Damn it, I thought, running a hand through my hair. I hate this feeling.

I couldn't hurt her further. Ovelia was already in pain; the bruises on her body were a testament to the cruelty she had endured. My guilt surged again, threatening to drown me.

•Palace Library•

I found myself in the palace library, the scent of aged parchment and polished wood enveloping me. Beside me sat Ann, her delicate fingers tracing the words on the pages. I was a novice in the world of werewolves, and the mark Ann had mentioned lingered in my mind like an unfinished thought.

"Ann," I ventured, my curiosity edging through the silence, "what's this mark you keep talking about?"

She glanced at me, her expression one of restraint. "Lady Ovelia, you should learn about it on your own," she replied softly, a hint of regret in her voice. Her eyes briefly flickered with something more profound, a longing to share but bound by unseen chains.

As I immersed myself in the texts, I began to understand. Werewolves, I discovered, marked their partners as a profound symbol of commitment—a bond forged in instinct stronger than mere desire. I could almost sense the weight of their loyalty in those ancient words.

"It's like they have two sides," I mused aloud, my voice tinged with wonder. "Their human side, full of logic and emotions, and then their wolf side, wild and instinctual."

Ann nodded, her gaze distant, as if she were momentarily lost in thought. "Yes," she said, her tone drifting like a whisper through the library's stillness. "The wolf embodies their true emotions—their cravings, their deepest longings. It's... primal, almost overwhelming."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I could see the conflict within her—part fascination, part fear. I leaned closer. "What happens when their instincts clash with their human emotions?"

Ann turned to me, her eyes sparking with unspoken stories. "That's the struggle, isn't it?" she replied, her voice barely above a murmur. "To balance desire with reason... It's a tumultuous dance."

I pondered her words, realizing that her reluctance to speak was not just about rules but the complexity of emotions tied to these creatures. Here we were, two souls amidst the vast expanse of knowledge, on the brink of discovering a world that intertwined love and instinct in a tapestry of deep connection and, sometimes, heart-wrenching conflict.