velora_dusk

A marriage forged in blood. A kingdom built on bones. And a queen who refuses to kneel.

When Elyra Dorne is sent to marry the infamous King Draven Valerian, she knows her life is no longer her own. The world speaks of him in fearful whispers a tyrant wrapped in shadow, a man whose throne was won through war and whose heart is said to be as cold as the steel he wields.

But Elyra is no meek bride. Stripped of choice yet unbroken, she steps into his kingdom with defiance burning in her veins. In a court filled with vipers, where betrayal is currency and secrets are more dangerous than blades, she must survive a world where love is a game and power is the ultimate prize.

Yet, beneath the king’s ruthless exterior lies something else—something dark, something waiting. And as Elyra is drawn deeper into his web, she begins to wonder: Is he the monster the world fears, or something far more terrifying?

The Bride Of Shadow

Chapter Twenty – Shadows of the Past

Elyra could still feel the cold of the dungeons clinging to her skin as she walked beside Draven, his silence pressing against her like a heavy weight. The prisoner's words refused to leave her mind. A force far older, far more dangerous. What did it mean? What enemy lurked beyond the kingdom's borders maybe perhaps even within them that they had yet to uncover?

Draven's jaw was set, his eyes trained ahead as they moved through the dimly lit halls. He was deep in thought, but Elyra had learned by now that he rarely voiced his concerns unless absolutely necessary. And that frustrated her.

She stopped walking. "You believe him."

Draven halted a few steps ahead of her, his shoulders tensing before he turned to face her. The flickering torchlight cast harsh shadows across his face, making him look even more unreadable. "I don't dismiss warnings so easily."

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Then why do you refuse to talk about it?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He exhaled slowly, stepping closer, his presence as imposing as ever. "Because speculation is dangerous, Elyra. Because I do not waste time fearing the unknown, rather I prepare for it."

Her lips parted, words on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated. There was a conviction in his voice that she couldn't ignore. He wasn't avoiding the truth or he was protecting it until he had the full picture. And yet, that didn't make the unease in her chest any easier to bear.

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them. "Your Majesty."

A tall figure emerged from the shadows a royal guard, his face masked in urgency. He bowed quickly before straightening. "There's been an incident."

Draven's eyes darkened. "What happened?"

"The western watchtower," the guard said grimly. "It's been attacked."

Elyra's heart slammed against her ribs. "By whom?"

The guard hesitated, his gaze flickering between them. "That's just it, my lady. There were no survivors… but there were no bodies either. Only blood."

A chill ran down Elyra's spine. She turned to Draven, expecting to see anger or frustration, but his expression was something far worse.

Without another word, he turned and strode down the corridor, his movements swift and decisive. Elyra barely had time to process before she hurried after him. "Draven!"

He didn't slow down. "This is no ordinary enemy."

The words of the prisoner came rushing back to her, laced with scary clarity. You are already playing into their hands.

Elyra forced herself to keep pace, her mind whirling. "What are we dealing with?"

Draven's voice was quiet, but it sent a shiver through her. "Something that was never meant to return."

The torches along the hall flickered violently as if the very castle itself trembled at his words. And deep in her bones, Elyra knew...this was only the beginning.