THE TRUTH THAT BURNS

Sophia crept through the dark corridors of the castle, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She knew this wasn't a smart idea, but she and smart decisions hadn't been on speaking terms for a while now.

Everything inside her screamed that something was wrong with this place. The way the guards watched her, the hushed whispers of the maids, the way everyone avoided speaking about the girls who had come before her. And then there was Darian—cold, unmoving, but with something lurking behind those icy eyes.

The night was the perfect cover. She slipped past the guards unnoticed, thanks to years of sneaking out through her bedroom window. Finally, she reached the massive door at the end of the corridor. She had no idea what she would find, but something told her this was the place.

She gave the door a gentle push, and with a soft creak, it opened.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by flickering torchlight. The walls were covered in old writings, symbols that reminded her of languages she had never studied but still sent a shiver down her spine. And then—

At the center of the room stood a massive stone altar. And on it—

Sophia froze.

Dresses.

Dozens of dresses, in different colors, different sizes, all neatly arranged. As if they had belonged to someone.

As if they had belonged to something that was no longer here.

Her hand instinctively brushed over one of them. The fabric was soft, expensive. And then she saw the stains—faint marks on the cloth. Her heart clenched.

She didn't need to look further. She didn't want to look further.

But her gaze fell to the edge of the altar, where strange markings had been carved. Beneath them, in golden letters, something was written in a language she couldn't understand.

Just one name.

Darian.

A sudden presence behind her made her blood turn to ice.

"I told you not to play with things you don't understand."

She spun around, her heart hammering. Darian stood in the doorway, his face shadowed by the flickering flames, but his eyes—his eyes were cold. Almost threatening.

"What… what is this?" she whispered, her voice unsteady.

"Sophia, leave."

"NO!" she cried, tears already welling in her eyes. "Not until you tell me what's going on! What is this?!"

His jaw tightened. He didn't answer.

"The girls…" Her voice broke as she looked around. "They were here before me, weren't they?"

Darian closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if gathering strength. When he opened them again, they were as icy as ever.

"Go to your room, Sophia."

"I won't!" she shouted. "Why can't I know the truth?! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?!"

In that instant, Darian crossed the distance between them in two steps, grabbing her wrist. He pulled her close, but there was no violence in his grip—only desperation.

"I'm not telling you to leave because I want to hide something from you," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm telling you to leave because I don't want to hurt you."

Sophia swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his hold on her skin. "What are you, Darian?"

Silence.

His eyes were dark, filled with something she couldn't understand.

"Someone you were never supposed to get this close to."

Darian watched Sophia as she stormed down the corridor, her tears still gleaming in her eyes. She didn't turn around, but he could hear her mumbling under her breath—something about "cold idiots" and "tyrants with god complexes."

His fists were clenched at his sides as her footsteps echoed in the distance. He felt a sense of relief that she was gone. But that feeling didn't last long.

He shouldn't have reacted like that. He should have stayed calm, played the game he knew best—cold, calculated, untouchable. But she had a way of drawing emotions from him that he had kept controlled for years. Every time she opened her mouth, he could feel his carefully built mask cracking.

He walked toward his chambers, his steps long and slow. The rooms where he resided were on the opposite end of the castle, far from everyone, even the servants who avoided him as much as they could. Darkness followed him, the shadows of the candles dancing on the walls as he entered.

The door closed behind him with a quiet creak.

Finally, he was alone.

He removed his gloves and threw them on the table. His hands began to subtly change—human at first glance, but if you looked closely at the lines of his skin, you could see the traces of what lay beneath.

His fingers unconsciously traced the old, barely visible scar on his palm. He knew how this would end with Sophia. Just like always.

He wondered if her dress would one day end up on that altar.

He sat in the large chair by the fireplace, running a hand over his face. He was tired. Tired of it all. Tired of fighting something that couldn't be beaten. Tired of the lies. Of the curse he hadn't chosen for himself.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt the shadow move inside him, something dark and ancient pulsing beneath his skin, waiting, always waiting.

"She's different."

His eyes snapped open. The voice in his head was his own, but it wasn't his. That creature, whatever it was that lived inside him, always knew when to speak up.

"She doesn't try to run. She doesn't fear you like the others."

Darian gritted his teeth. "She doesn't know what I do. What I am."

"Not yet."

His blood turned to ice in his veins. He knew what was coming. The night was drawing near. Another night, another temptation.

He suddenly stood, grabbed a glass of wine from the table, and threw it at the wall. The glass shattered, the dark liquid spilling onto the floor like blood.

"You won't take her," he muttered to himself.

"Can you stop it?"

Darian didn't answer. He walked to the large wooden cabinet and opened the lowest drawer. Inside were hundreds of scrolls, old records he had studied his entire life, searching for a way to break the chains that bound him. He had searched for an escape.

But there was no escape.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the table, breathing heavily. His life had become an endless circle of nights and blood. Every girl brought to the castle had met the same end. And every time, he thought this time would be different.

Sophia…

Her brown hair, her defiant expression, the way she never bowed to his commands. Even now, after discovering something she shouldn't have, she had left angry. Not scared.

That was new.

He wouldn't be able to hide the truth from her much longer. Not when she was this stubborn.

"And what will you do then?" the voice inside him asked, sneering.