JOURNEY INTO THE NIGHT

"I have to say, this is quite comfortable. I didn't know prisoners got such luxurious transportation. What's next, a hot bath and a foot massage?"

Sophia smirked sarcastically as she sat in the carriage, her hands bound in front of her with rope. At least they hadn't put her in shackles. That would've been a bit much—even for this absurd situation.

Opposite her, one of the guards—a man with eyebrows so thick they looked like a separate entity—gave her a dark glare. "Be quiet."

"Oh, there it is. The classic line of someone with no sense of humor." Sophia rolled her eyes. "Did they train you to be this serious? Because it seems like they told you, 'If you smile, your punishment will be public humiliation.'"

The guard just sighed and looked out the window. The other, a younger one, was barely holding back a laugh. Clearly, he found her amusing but didn't dare say anything.

Sophia still couldn't believe this was happening. She was sitting in a royal carriage, traveling to Vladaryn—a kingdom known for its brutal winters, terrifying beasts, and an even more terrifying king.

Darian Volkraith.

The man they called the Beast King. They said he was ruthless, merciless, as cold as Vladaryn's frozen lands. Supposedly, he once punished a traitor by releasing him into a forest full of hungry wolves. No weapons. No chance.

And now she was on her way to become his bride.

"Can someone explain how this is a solution to anything?" she mused aloud. "I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to just let me go? Or send me into exile? Or, I don't know, send the actual princess?"

"Princess Elara is ill," the older guard replied flatly.

"Oh, right, 'ill.' She must be suffering from that rare condition called 'I refuse to get married, so I'm sending someone else in my place.'"

The younger guard coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Do you know anything about Vladaryn?" the older guard asked. "About its king?"

"I know that as soon as we arrive, I'll be looking for a way to escape. Unless some monster eats me first."

The older guard let out a low chuckle. "Try it. It'll be interesting to see how long you survive in a land where the night swallows those who wander too far."

A chill ran down Sophia's spine. She didn't like sounding scared, but something about his tone made her question all her life choices.

Three Days Later…

The journey to Vladaryn was awful.

First, the rain. It poured nonstop—cold as death and heavy as lead. Second, the roads. Apparently, Vladaryn had never heard of flat terrain, because they were constantly climbing steep hills and sliding down muddy slopes. Third, the company.

Sophia had tried to befriend the younger guard, but every time he started warming up to her, the older one would shoot him a look cold enough to freeze a river. So, for the most part, she was left to her own thoughts.

And then, when they finally reached Vladaryn's border, things got even worse.

The carriage passed through dense, eerie forests, where shadows danced at the edge of her vision. More than once, she could've sworn she saw eyes glowing in the darkness.

"This place is so welcoming," she muttered.

No one answered her.

And then they arrived.

Noctis Keep.

The fortress of the Beast King loomed over the dark landscape like a giant shadow. Its towers were tall and cold, shrouded in mist, and the castle itself looked like something out of a nightmare. It was even bigger than she had imagined. Maybe even larger than the royal palace in Eldoria.

The gates creaked open with a painful groan, and Sophia was swallowed by the fortress's darkness.

She was led into a vast hall. It was freezing and empty, except for a few torches casting weak flames on the stone walls. At the very end, on an elevated throne of black stone, he sat.

Darian Volkraith.

Tall. Powerful. Dressed in dark robes with metal armor on his shoulders. His dark hair fell in soft waves, but what struck her the most were his eyes. Deep, cold, and piercing—like a frozen lake.

"Kneel before the King of Vladaryn," the guard beside her ordered.

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Kneel?"

The guard shoved her, but she didn't move.

Darian observed the scene with the same expression someone might have while watching paint dry. Clearly, he wasn't impressed.

"There's no need," he finally said, his voice deep and quiet, yet commanding. "Just tell me your name."

Sophia met his gaze. "Sophia Everhart. Completely irrelevant human being who is here by mistake."

Silence.

Several guards stiffened. She really had no survival instincts.

Darian studied her for a long moment before leaning back slightly. "A mistake, you say?"

"Yes, a mistake." She crossed her arms. "I'm not a princess. Nor do I want to be your bride. So if you have any paperwork I can sign to opt out of this madness, bring it here."

The guards looked at her in shock. At this point, she should be begging for mercy—or at least pretending to be afraid. But Sophia? She had a sharp tongue and a serious authority problem.

Darian observed her for a few long moments, and then—

He smiled.

It was barely there—a faint twitch of his lips—but it was real. As if this was… amusing?

Sophia suddenly felt a chill down her spine.

"There is no paperwork," he finally said, rising from his throne. "No escape. No mistake. You are here, and here you will stay."

He stepped toward her, and she felt her heart pound—not from fear, but from… something else.

"Welcome to Vladaryn, Sophia Everhart," he said in a low, icy voice. "Your new home."