the witch in chains

Chapter 1: The Witch in Chains

The scent of blood clung to the air like a whispered curse.

Selene Moreau tightened her wrists against the iron shackles binding her, the cold metal burning against her skin. They had lined the cuffs with silver—clever, considering she was no ordinary witch. But no amount of steel or spellwork would stop her from escaping. She just needed time.

The carriage rocked violently as it barreled through the shadowed forest, the wheels crunching against brittle autumn leaves. Outside, the night was alive with the sounds of the hunt—howling wolves, the distant flap of wings. Her captors were careful, but she knew where they were taking her.

Valcourt Keep. The vampire king's stronghold.

She forced her breathing to steady, though her pulse betrayed her—pounding hard enough that if they listened closely, they'd hear the fear she refused to show.

The door to the carriage creaked open.

A vampire stood there, silhouetted against the moonlight. His fangs glinted as he smirked. "Awake already? Good. I was worried you'd miss your grand entrance."

Selene met his gaze with cold defiance. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked, voice laced with venom.

His smirk widened. "Immensely."

Without another word, he seized her chains and yanked her forward. She stumbled but didn't fall. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As they stepped out, Selene caught her first glimpse of Valcourt Keep—a towering fortress of black stone, its spires slicing into the sky like jagged fangs. The massive iron gates groaned open, revealing an inner courtyard lined with torches that burned with an eerie blue flame.

And at the center of it all, standing at the foot of the grand staircase, was him.

Damien Valcourt. The Vampire King.

She had heard the stories. The butcher of Black Hollow. The immortal tyrant who ruled the night with an iron fist. He was taller than she expected, broad-shouldered and dressed in black, his sharp features carved from cold, unyielding marble.

But it was his eyes that sent a chill down her spine—a piercing silver, like moonlight on fresh snow.

His gaze swept over her, slow and assessing. Then he spoke, his voice rich and commanding.

"I expected a witch," he said. "Not a girl in chains."

Selene squared her shoulders. "Take these off, and I'll show you exactly what kind of witch I am."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Brave. Or foolish. Either way, I don't take orders from prisoners."

He descended the steps, closing the distance between them. When he reached out, Selene flinched as his fingers brushed the side of her neck, tracing the faint pulse beneath her skin. It wasn't a caress—it was a warning.

"You reek of power," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "And yet, you let yourself be caught."

Selene held his gaze. "I let myself be taken because I wanted to see you."

That made him pause. "Oh?"

She tilted her chin up defiantly. "I came to kill you."

Silence. Then Damien chuckled, low and dark, the sound curling around her like smoke.

"How bold," he murmured. "Perhaps I'll keep you, little witch. I'd like to see you try."

And with that, the vampire king turned on his heel, leaving her standing in the cold night, her fate sealed with his words.

Selene Moreau had walked into the lion's den.

And she was starting to wonder if she would ever walk out.

End of Chapter 1