Who Is This Erolyn?

Melodie lay on a soft red warm cushion in the gilded cage, staring up at the ornate ceiling, but she wasn't really seeing it.

She was seeing home.

Or what was left of it.

 Burned-out cities.

Collapsed buildings.

Deserted streets covered in ash and overgrowth.

Humanity had been driven to the brink.

The Cotard Virus had done what no war, no natural disaster, no plague before it had ever achieved—

It had brought them to extinction's doorstep.

The disease was a slow, creeping death sentence.

It didn't kill quickly.

It rotted people from the inside out, piece by piece—both their minds and their bodies breaking down until they stopped being human.

They had tried everything to stop it.

Scientists, doctors, military strategists—they all worked to find a cure.

But no one could even determine what the virus truly was.

Where it came from.

Why it targeted humans and higher mammals.

Why it resisted every form of treatment.

They had theories.

Radiation mutations.

A bioweapon gone rogue.

Something alien.

None of it mattered if they couldn't stop it.

The population had already fallen below two million.

And those two million? They weren't all healthy.

They were dying, too.

And if she didn't find a way back…

If she didn't complete her research…

Then humanity was finished.

Melodie exhaled slowly, forcing herself to breathe.

She had to keep moving.

She had to survive.

And first thing she needed?

Information.

And for that—she needed Luko.

Luko sneezed as he carried a plate of bland food down the dim corridor.

His body was still sore, the wound in his side still healing, but he was well enough to walk and think.

And think, he did.

He wasn't sure why he had come back to the Dark Canariae's cage.

Technically, she was still a Canariae, meaning her duty was to serve.

To protect.

So it had only been natural that she saved his life, right?

Yet…

She hadn't needed to.

And that made him uneasy.

Something about her frightened him.

But intrigued him, too.

Luko's golden eyes flickered as he stepped into the great hall, approaching the cage—only to stop abruptly.

What in the name of the gods was she doing?

Melodie was upside down.

Her legs were hooked onto the top of the cage, suspending her body mid-air.

She repeatedly lifted her lower half up and down, her muscles flexing with each motion.

Luko frowned.

She didn't even acknowledge him until he got closer.

"Uhh… here is your breakfast," he said hesitantly, placing the plate just outside the bars.

Melodie finished her last repetition, then smoothly lowered herself down, flipping her body back to a standing position.

She grabbed the plate and glanced at his expression.

"They're called sit-ups," she said dryly, before taking a bite.

Luko blinked.

"Sit-ups?"

"Exercise. To strengthen muscles," she clarified, chewing.

Luko was still baffled.

Canariae didn't do this. They worked because they had to—not because they wanted to make themselves stronger.

Melodie took another bite, eyeing him.

"Thought you hated me," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Why the hell are you back here?"

Luko straightened slightly, adjusting his robes.

"Yes, well… I thought I should at least give you a chance to understand why what you said was so…"

"Hurtful?" she cut him off.

Luko hesitated. "Yes."

Melodie snorted.

"Can't be more hurtful than having your basic rights stripped away and examined like an animal," she shot back.

Luko acknowledged the discrepancy, but before he could respond—

Melodie leaned slightly against the bars, studying him.

"I'm sure it's difficult," she mused, voice laced with sarcasm, "being so close to people who are 'better' than you, constantly fighting to have them see you for what you are instead of just labeling you by your birthright. Can't imagine what that feels like."

Luko's golden eyes flickered.

A small, almost involuntary flinch.

Melodie smirked.

She knew he wouldn't understand the context.

But she had hit a nerve.

She could see it.

Feel it.

Luko shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the sleeves of his robes.

"I want a truce," he said abruptly.

Melodie raised a brow. "A truce?"

"Yes." He took a deep breath. "I want to exchange information. I will tell you about this world—its history, its politics, its rulers. And in return, you will tell me about yours."

Melodie chewed slowly, considering.

She could use this.

She needed information, and he wanted something, too.

But she narrowed her eyes slightly, tilting her head.

"Why?" she asked.

Luko's golden eyes gleamed.

"Because," he murmured, "your world is… advanced. Your gear, your weapons, your knowledge—it's nothing I've seen before. I want to learn."

Melodie let out a slow, amused breath.

"You should be careful," she muttered. "It was human technology that nearly wiped us out."

Luko smiled—a strange, knowing smile.

"Yes," he admitted. "And its Awyan technology that is wiping us out, too."

Melodie stilled.

He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping.

"Our obsession with selective breeding has stifled our ability to reproduce," he said quietly. "We made ourselves beautiful, strong, long-lived… but now our women can barely conceive. Our people are slowly dying. We are a civilization with no future."

Luko's golden eyes burned as he met her gaze.

"We are not so different, you and I."

Melodie studied him for a long moment.

Then—her expression shifted.

It was subtle, but it was there.

A flicker of understanding.

A silent agreement.

Luko recognized it instantly.

His own features softened just slightly, a hint of acknowledgment passing between them.

No words were spoken.

No hands were extended.

But the truce was made.

Malec tossed and turned in his bed.

Sleep refused to come.

His mind was restless, uneasy.

The King's gaze on the Dark Canariae lingered in his thoughts, clawing at the back of his mind like an unwelcome guest.

He had seen that look before.

It was the same look Awyan nobles gave rare animals—a mixture of fascination and ownership.

It bothered him.

And that—that—was the real problem.

He had always ensured that the Canariae under his watch were handled properly before they were sold.

Some were trained as servants, entertainers, personal attendants.

Some were used as pleasure slaves.

It was simply the way of things.

And yet…

The thought of her being used like that made his stomach churn.

Why?

Why should he care?

Perhaps it was because she was still wild, unbroken.

Perhaps it was because he wanted to be the one to tame her.

If he kept her, trained her himself, he could ensure she was placed properly.

That was the logical choice.

Yes. That was it.

He was merely being responsible.

But even as he told himself that, as his tan eyes gleamed in the firelight.

He had enjoyed sitting by the fire, catching up with his cousin.

The warmth, the comfort of good company, the slow haze of alcohol settling in his bones.

But nothing had been as euphoric as the sight of her.

Curled up in her gilded cage, chest rising and falling softly, bathed in the warm, golden glow of the fire.

Her skin gleamed, deep and rich, like molten bronze, reflecting the flames in a way that no other body he had ever seen could.

His fingers twitched.

He had wanted to touch it.

To see if it felt as warm as it looked.

To smell it.

Maybe even to lick—

Malec's eyes snapped open.

A sharp breath left his lips as he pressed a hand to his forehead.

His skin was hot. Slightly damp with sweat.

What the hell was happening to him?

With a grunt, he kicked off the blankets, trying to cool off.

That's when he noticed it.

The tent in his pants.

Malec froze.

Stared down at himself in absolute disbelief.

A slow, creeping sense of horror crawled up his spine.

His jaw tightened, his breath coming out sharp and irritated.

No.

This was wrong.

This was a Canariae.

This was beneath him.

A snarl built in his throat as he raked his fingers through his hair, pacing the room, his thoughts spiraling.

Why?

Why had his body responded like that?

It wasn't as though he had been denying himself. He had plenty of experience with women.

Women of his kind.

Women who were strong, beautiful, desirable.

Not… this.

Not a Canariae.

Disgusting.

Malec exhaled through his nose, sharp and frustrated.

Enough.

He needed to get his damn mind under control.

With quick, aggressive steps, he strode toward the bathing chambers.

Maybe he just needed cold water.

Maybe he needed to clear his mind.

And maybe, just maybe—

He needed to stop drinking.

Forever.

The room was quiet when Malec entered.

Too quiet.

His tan eyes swept over the dimly lit hall, over the golden bars of the cage—

And his jaw clenched.

Inside, Melodie was asleep.

Outside, Luko dozed in a chair, slumped slightly, his arms crossed over his chest.

They had fallen asleep talking.

Malec's blood burned.

The empty plates near the bars told him they had eaten together.

The faint glow of a dying candle suggested they had talked until dawn.

And the way Luko's body leaned slightly toward the cage, his golden eyes closed in exhaustion, confirmed that they had spent the entire night exchanging information.

Malec's fists curled at his sides.

He wasn't sure why it irritated him so much.

But it did.

Melodie was curled up comfortably, one arm draped over her waist, her breathing deep and even.

It wasn't the restless sleep of a prisoner.

It was the sleep of someone at peace.

As if she had already found her place.

As if she belonged here.

Malec's fingers twitched.

No.

She needed to be reminded who was in control.

With measured steps, Malec walked to the cage and kicked the bars.

A loud clang echoed through the hall.

Both Melodie and Luko jerked awake, startled.

Luko blinked groggily, adjusting his position, rubbing his eyes.

Melodie, however, reacted instantly.

Her dark eyes snapped to Malec, sharp and alert, her body tensed for a fight.

But Malec wasn't interested in fighting.

Not physically, anyway.

Instead, he let his eyes drag over her slowly, gaze unreadable, lips pressed into a thin, firm line.

He said something in his own language, his voice low and cold.

Melodie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Luko?" she muttered. "Translation, please?"

Luko sighed, rubbing his temples before speaking.

"He asked if you were sleeping comfortably," Luko translated.

Melodie scowled.

"Better than you, apparently," she shot back, sitting up fully.

She could see it.

The dark circles under Malec's eyes. The tightness in his shoulders. The way he stood too still, too controlled.

Something was off.

And that only made her grin.

"What's wrong, Commander?" she taunted. "Didn't sleep well?"

Luko hesitated, eyeing Malec warily before translating.

As soon as the words left Luko's mouth, Malec's tan eyes flickered dangerously.

But instead of snapping at her, he merely tilted his head slightly and responded in his own tongue.

Luko sighed again. "He says you're far too comfortable for a prisoner."

Melodie smirked.

"Maybe you should work on that."

Luko didn't even bother translating—Malec had already understood the tone.

His jaw ticked.

His frustration simmered beneath the surface.

Instead of arguing, Malec unhooked the chain attached to her collar, pulling it taut, forcing Melodie slightly forward.

Not enough to hurt.

Just enough to remind her.

He spoke again.

Luko hesitated before translating.

"He says he thinks you've grown a little too bold."

Melodie's smirk didn't waver.

If anything, she leaned into it.

"Oh? And what is he gonna do about it?"

Luko swallowed hard. He turned slightly toward Malec.

"Do I have to translate that?"

Malec shot him a look.

Luko sighed, then repeated Melodie's words in Awyan.

Malec's tan eyes darkened.

Something dangerous flickered in them—something wild, restrained.

His next words came slow and deliberate.

When Luko translated, his voice was flat.

"He says, 'I will tame you myself.'"

Melodie grinned.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice mockingly sweet.

"You can try, big guy."

Luko visibly cringed as he translated.

Malec inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his temper back down.

She was toying with him.

She wanted to see him snap.

And he wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

Not tonight.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, his grip on the chain relaxing just slightly.

Then, with controlled ease, he let it drop.

He turned to Luko, muttering something under his breath.

Luko sighed.

"He says, 'Don't test me, Canariae.'"

Without another word, Malec turned sharply on his heel and strode out.

Melodie watched him go.

And when he was gone—

She laughed.

Luko groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

"You're going to get yourself killed," he muttered.

Melodie just grinned.

"Not today, translator. Not today."

Malec had spent the night thinking.

Thinking about the trouble Melodie had caused.

Thinking about her constant defiance.

Thinking about how she had laughed at him after their last encounter.

He had let her get too comfortable.

And that was about to change.

The next morning, he strode into the great hall, his tan eyes cold, his expression unreadable.

Melodie was already awake, sitting inside her cage, arms resting lazily on her knees.

She barely looked up when he entered.

"Back for more?" she mused.

Luko, walking beside Malec, exhaled heavily.

"Melodie, please—"

Malec didn't acknowledge her taunt.

Instead, he turned to Luko and gave him a sharp command.

Luko hesitated.

Then sighed.

"He says your privileges have been revoked."

Melodie raised an eyebrow.

"What privileges?" she scoffed. "I live in a cage."

Malec spoke again, his tone low and firm.

Luko translated.

"No more sleeping on soft bedding. No more time spent idly talking. No more meals unless earned."

Melodie's jaw clenched slightly at that.

Malec's eyes flashed with satisfaction.

Good.

She was finally starting to understand.

But that wasn't enough.

Not yet.

He turned to Luko again and muttered something longer.

Luko frowned.

"He says he will be training you himself."

Melodie blinked.

Then—she laughed.

"Training me? For what? A circus act?"

Luko didn't translate that, but Malec narrowed his eyes anyway.

He could guess.

Malec leaned slightly closer to the bars, speaking in his own tongue.

Luko shifted uncomfortably.

"He says he will break you down until you are easy to control."

Melodie's smirk slowly faded.

For the first time since she arrived, she felt like a pet.