Chapter 6: The Debt and the Friend

Whispers of Debt

Morning came late to Castle Virel—thick mist still curling through the cold corridors, veiling the high windows in gray.

Lora woke alone, tangled in silk sheets that smelled faintly of Dorian's skin.

Memories of the night before burned in her mind—the taste of his mouth, the heat of his touch. The way the silk had fallen away beneath his hands.

But her heart warred with itself—desire tangled with confusion, mistrust with longing.

Why would Dorian always lock her in this chamber?

Who was she in this place? A bride, a captive—

A soft knock stirred her from thought.

A servant girl entered, head bowed.

"Forgive me, my lady," she said. "The master requests your presence.

"The debt must be settled," the girl whispered. "You must understand."

Before Lora could ask more, the servant fled—leaving her alone with dread pooling in her stomach.

---

Later that hour, Lora stood beneath the cold arches of the Hall of Records—ancient stone vaults stacked with scrolls and ledgers older than empires.

Dorian waited for her there—cloaked in velvet, eyes cold once more, unreadable.

"Why did you summon me here?" she asked, voice steady despite her racing heart.

He gestured to a vast iron-bound tome laid open before him.

"Because you must know the truth," Dorian said. "Your family owed this House a very real debt—one sealed in blood, and centuries unpaid."

Evelyn frowned. "My family? What debt?"

He turned the pages—revealing an entry scrawled in crimson ink.

"House . Blood-debt sworn by Elias and Mirabelle Moreau. Full repayment: one lifebond. One daughter pledged."

Her breath caught. Mirabelle. Her mother's name.

She stared at Dorian, fury rising. "You mean... my parents sold me to you?"

"Not sold." His voice was quiet, almost bitter. "Pledged. To settle a blood debt they could not repay. You were promised before you were born."

The words struck like a blade.

And yet... the parchment did not lie.

"But where are they?" she whispered. "Where are my parents now?"

Dorian's jaw tightened.

"They vanished, years ago," he said. "Before I could claim the debt. Taken... or fled. You alone remained."

Lora's heart twisted. Her memories of them were vague, fading—her mother's scent, her father's voice... gone.

And something darker stirred beneath those memories—a warning, a secret untold.

---

Later.

That night, Lora could not sleep. The silk sheets felt like chains around her. Her mind spun with questions, doubts, and dangerous longing.

A soft tap at her chamber door startled her.

She rose, pulling her robe close. "Who is it?"

"It's me," whispered a voice she did not know. "Samantha. Please—let me in."

Dorian, a friend from the other day?

Cautiously, Lora unlatched the door.

The woman, as usual, entered—tall, graceful, clad in a dark traveling cloak. Her eyes were sharp, fierce with knowledge.

"I was once your friend," Samantha said, voice low. "Though you may not remember."

Lora's breath caught. "What do you mean?"

Samantha closed the door, glancing toward the shadows.

"He's hiding things from you. Binding you again."

"Binding?"

Samantha reached into her sleeve and drew forth a strip of silk—glimmering faintly with magic.

"Silk-binding," she whispered. "A spell designed to suppress memories—and blood instincts. He's keeping you docile. Powerless."

Why are they all saying this?

Gabriel...

Samantha...

Now Lora is confused

Lora's hands trembled. "I... I don't believe you."

"Then look."

Without hesitation, Samantha bared her wrist. Faint scars and fresh bite marks marred her skin—proof of bindings broken.

"I freed myself," Samantha said. "You can, too. But you must hurry."

Lora swallowed hard. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

"Why? What aren't you telling me?"

Samantha leaned close, eyes blazing.

"Listen carefully. If you want the truth... if you want to remember who you really are... find the room behind the Library."

Lora gasped. "The room behind the Library?"

Samantha nodded.

"There's a hidden door. Find it—before he does."

A sharp knock at the outer chamber door startled them both.

Dorian's voice rang out.

"Lora. Open the door."

Samantha's eyes widened.

"Remember what I said," she whispered. "Trust no one. Not even him."

And with a swirl of her cloak, she vanished into the shadows—just as Lora reached trembling fingers toward the door...

---

Dangerous Trust

Lora's fingers lingered on the door handle—heart hammering from Samantha's warning.

Silk-binding. A spell to suppress memories... keep me docile. A pet, not a queen...

Her pulse raced. What if it were true?

But before she could think further, the door creaked open. Dorian stood in the threshold—dark hair tousled, cloak loose at his throat, eyes sharp with concern.

"Lora," he murmured. "You should not be alone."

She fought to steady her breath. "I am not a child. I can care for myself."

A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Of course. But after what happened last night... I feared for you."

He stepped inside, voice low and velvet-smooth. His gaze swept her—bare feet, silk robe cinched tight, cheeks flushed with tension.

"Are you well?" he asked softly.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. "I... don't know."

He approached—slow, deliberate. Every movement radiated dark grace, centuries of control. He reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You are still awakening," he murmured. "It is overwhelming. I should not have rushed it."

Her breath caught at his touch—warm, steady. A dangerous comfort.

"Why did you not tell me about my parents?" she demanded, trembling.

He sighed—a shadow of guilt in his eyes.

"I did not wish to burden you. The truth is not always kind."

Lora stared. "They owed you a blood debt. My life was pledged to you. Why hide it?"

A long pause. Then—

"Because I wanted more than a debt repaid," he admitted, voice low. "I wanted... you. Willingly."

The words sent a confusing thrill through her—but anger sparked beneath it.

"And so you bound me?" she whispered. "With silk. With spells."

Dorian stiffened. His eyes narrowed—cold calculation returning.

"Who told you that?"

Her breath faltered. She could not betray Samantha.

"No one," she lied.

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then, to her surprise—he reached for her hand.

"I would not harm you, Lora. You are my wife. Whatever you have heard. Whatever you fear."

His thumb traced slow circles against her palm—heat blooming where he touched.

"You were more than a bride to me. You were... my heart."

Emotion surged—confusion and longing tangled with bitter mistrust.

"I do not remember," she whispered.

Dorian's voice deepened—hoarse, aching.

"Then let me remind you."

Before she could protest, he drew her close—arms circling her waist, breath hot against her temple.

"You are mine," he murmured. "And I am yours. No spell can change that."

Her pulse thudded.

Then—his lips found hers. Slow at first, gentle... then deeper, hungrier.

And despite herself—despite Samantha's warning—Lora melted into him.

His hands slid beneath her robe, fingers grazing bare skin—setting her nerves alight. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

She wanted to resist. To demand the truth.

But his mouth was claiming hers—tongue tangling, possessive, and skilled.

Her body betrayed her—heat pooling low in her belly, breath quickening.

Dorian lifted her easily, carrying her toward the bed.

"No spells," he whispered against her throat. "Only us."

The silk robe slipped from her shoulders. His lips traced a burning path across her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts.

Lora arched beneath him—caught between desire and doubt.

And then

She saw it.

A faint shimmer of silk thread glimmered at her wrist, barely visible in the candlelight.

Silk-binding.

A sharp pang of fear pierced the haze.

"Stop," she gasped. "Dorian—what is this?"

He froze—eyes darkening.

But before he could answer—a low chime echoed through the castle.

A warning bell.

Dorian swore softly, pulling away.

"They come too soon," he muttered. "I must go. Stay here. Trust me."

And with a swirl of his cloak—he vanished into the shadows.

---

Lora lay trembling—half-dressed, heart racing. The faint silk thread glimmered again. Samantha had been right.

Her choice was clear now: obey Dorian... or seek the truth herself.

Eyes burning with resolve, she rose—wrapped in her robe—and turned toward the Library.

---

The Hidden Room

The great Library of Castle Viral was colder than she remembered—vast rows of dark shelves rising into the shadows, lit only by flickering candelabras.

Lora's bare feet made no sound on the polished marble floor. Her silk robe whispered as she moved, heart pounding.

Samantha's words echoed in her mind:

"Find the room behind the Library... before he does."

Her breath misted in the chill air.

She had not seen another soul since leaving her chambers—Dorian gone, the castle eerily still.

But something called to her...

A faint pull beneath her ribs, as if some forgotten instinct guided her steps.

She followed the spiral stair to the upper gallery—past dust-laden tomes and ancient grimoires—until she reached a far wall veiled in heavy crimson drapes.

A strange draft stirred the fabric.

There.

Drawing back the drapes, she found a carved archway—sealed with a tall oak panel. No visible handle, no hinges.

For a moment, she hesitated—pulse racing.

Then—remembering Samantha's warning—she pressed her palms to the wood... and whispered:

"Open."

A faint shimmer sparked across the grain. The panel trembled—then, with a low groan, slid open.

Beyond it—stone steps descending into darkness.

What is this place...?

Drawing a candelabra from the nearest table, Lora stepped into the passage—sealing the door behind her.

---

The air grew colder with each step—thick with ancient magic, the scent of blood and old stone.

Far below the castle's heart, the stairs ended in a narrow corridor—lined with faded portraits, their subjects' eyes following her.

At the end stood a black iron door—runes etched deep into its surface.

Lora swallowed hard.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the latch.

It opened at her touch—revealing a hidden chamber bathed in faint crimson light.

A single pedestal stood in the center—holding a leather-bound book.

Beside it: a silver mirror, cracked but still gleaming.

And as she stepped closer—visions flared before her eyes.

---

Memories—raw and brutal—rushed through her mind:

A grand court, bathed in candlelight.

A forbidden tryst—herself, tangled in silk sheets with a man.

Not Dorian.

— A king—enemy of House Virel. His touch on her skin, his lips at her throat.

Her breath caught.

I was unfaithful... to Dorian?

More images came—her mother's voice, frantic:

"Dorian can never forgive this.

You must flee, Lora. He will kill you if he knows."

A sudden pain burned her wrist—where the silk-binding shimmered.

The spell fought to suppress the memory—but it was too late.

She saw now—why her memories had been stolen. Why Dorian had bound her again.

To hide the truth.

I betrayed him... I was no innocent bride...

---

And then—another vision—even darker:

— Her parents—cornered in a cold chamber. Dorian, pale with rage.

"She will pay the debt—with her life. I can't prevent it."

Her mother, weeping: "Please, Dorian. Have mercy..."

And the flash of steel.

Blood.

---

Lora staggered back, gasping.

Her hands flew to her throat.

They didn't flee... they're dead. Dorian killed them.

The weight of the truth crushed her.

How much more is hidden?

---

A faint sound snapped her from the vision—a footfall behind her.

She spun—candlelight flickering.

Dorian stood in the doorway—eyes dark with fury.

"You should not be here," he said Whispers of Debt

Morning came late to Castle Virel—thick mist still curling through the cold corridors, veiling the high windows in gray.

Lora woke alone, tangled in silk sheets that smelled faintly of Dorian's skin.

Memories of the night before burned in her mind—the taste of his mouth, the heat of his touch. The way the silk had fallen away beneath his hands.

But her heart warred with itself—desire tangled with confusion, mistrust with longing.

Why would Dorian always lock her in this chamber?

Who was she in this place? A bride, a captive—

A soft knock stirred her from thought.

A servant girl entered, head bowed.

"Forgive me, my lady," she said. "The master requests your presence.

"The debt must be settled," the girl whispered. "You must understand."

Before Lora could ask more, the servant fled—leaving her alone with dread pooling in her stomach.

---

Later that hour, Lora stood beneath the cold arches of the Hall of Records—ancient stone vaults stacked with scrolls and ledgers older than empires.

Dorian waited for her there—cloaked in velvet, eyes cold once more, unreadable.

"Why did you summon me here?" she asked, voice steady despite her racing heart.

He gestured to a vast iron-bound tome laid open before him.

"Because you must know the truth," Dorian said. "Your family owed this House a very real debt—one sealed in blood, and centuries unpaid."

Evelyn frowned. "My family? What debt?"

He turned the pages—revealing an entry scrawled in crimson ink.

"House . Blood-debt sworn by Elias and Mirabelle Moreau. Full repayment: one lifebond. One daughter pledged."

Her breath caught. Mirabelle. Her mother's name.

She stared at Dorian, fury rising. "You mean... my parents sold me to you?"

"Not sold." His voice was quiet, almost bitter. "Pledged. To settle a blood debt they could not repay. You were promised before you were born."

The words struck like a blade.

And yet... the parchment did not lie.

"But where are they?" she whispered. "Where are my parents now?"

Dorian's jaw tightened.

"They vanished, years ago," he said. "Before I could claim the debt. Taken... or fled. You alone remained."

Lora's heart twisted. Her memories of them were vague, fading—her mother's scent, her father's voice... gone.

And something darker stirred beneath those memories—a warning, a secret untold.

---

Later.

That night, Lora could not sleep. The silk sheets felt like chains around her. Her mind spun with questions, doubts, and dangerous longing.

A soft tap at her chamber door startled her.

She rose, pulling her robe close. "Who is it?"

"It's me," whispered a voice she did not know. "Samantha. Please—let me in."

Dorian, a friend from the other day?

Cautiously, Lora unlatched the door.

The woman, as usual, entered—tall, graceful, clad in a dark traveling cloak. Her eyes were sharp, fierce with knowledge.

"I was once your friend," Samantha said, voice low. "Though you may not remember."

Lora's breath caught. "What do you mean?"

Samantha closed the door, glancing toward the shadows.

"He's hiding things from you. Binding you again."

"Binding?"

Samantha reached into her sleeve and drew forth a strip of silk—glimmering faintly with magic.

"Silk-binding," she whispered. "A spell designed to suppress memories—and blood instincts. He's keeping you docile. Powerless."

Why are they all saying this?

Gabriel...

Samantha...

Now Lora is confused

Lora's hands trembled. "I... I don't believe you."

"Then look."

Without hesitation, Samantha bared her wrist. Faint scars and fresh bite marks marred her skin—proof of bindings broken.

"I freed myself," Samantha said. "You can, too. But you must hurry."

Lora swallowed hard. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

"Why? What aren't you telling me?"

Samantha leaned close, eyes blazing.

"Listen carefully. If you want the truth... if you want to remember who you really are... find the room behind the Library."

Lora gasped. "The room behind the Library?"

Samantha nodded.

"There's a hidden door. Find it—before he does."

A sharp knock at the outer chamber door startled them both.

Dorian's voice rang out.

"Lora. Open the door."

Samantha's eyes widened.

"Remember what I said," she whispered. "Trust no one. Not even him."

And with a swirl of her cloak, she vanished into the shadows—just as Lora reached trembling fingers toward the door...

---

Dangerous Trust

Lora's fingers lingered on the door handle—heart hammering from Samantha's warning.

Silk-binding. A spell to suppress memories... keep me docile. A pet, not a queen...

Her pulse raced. What if it were true?

But before she could think further, the door creaked open. Dorian stood in the threshold—dark hair tousled, cloak loose at his throat, eyes sharp with concern.

"Lora," he murmured. "You should not be alone."

She fought to steady her breath. "I am not a child. I can care for myself."

A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Of course. But after what happened last night... I feared for you."

He stepped inside, voice low and velvet-smooth. His gaze swept her—bare feet, silk robe cinched tight, cheeks flushed with tension.

"Are you well?" he asked softly.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. "I... don't know."

He approached—slow, deliberate. Every movement radiated dark grace, centuries of control. He reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You are still awakening," he murmured. "It is overwhelming. I should not have rushed it."

Her breath caught at his touch—warm, steady. A dangerous comfort.

"Why did you not tell me about my parents?" she demanded, trembling.

He sighed—a shadow of guilt in his eyes.

"I did not wish to burden you. The truth is not always kind."

Lora stared. "They owed you a blood debt. My life was pledged to you. Why hide it?"

A long pause. Then—

"Because I wanted more than a debt repaid," he admitted, voice low. "I wanted... you. Willingly."

The words sent a confusing thrill through her—but anger sparked beneath it.

"And so you bound me?" she whispered. "With silk. With spells."

Dorian stiffened. His eyes narrowed—cold calculation returning.

"Who told you that?"

Her breath faltered. She could not betray Samantha.

"No one," she lied.

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then, to her surprise—he reached for her hand.

"I would not harm you, Lora. You are my wife. Whatever you have heard. Whatever you fear."

His thumb traced slow circles against her palm—heat blooming where he touched.

"You were more than a bride to me. You were... my heart."

Emotion surged—confusion and longing tangled with bitter mistrust.

"I do not remember," she whispered.

Dorian's voice deepened—hoarse, aching.

"Then let me remind you."

Before she could protest, he drew her close—arms circling her waist, breath hot against her temple.

"You are mine," he murmured. "And I am yours. No spell can change that."

Her pulse thudded.

Then—his lips found hers. Slow at first, gentle... then deeper, hungrier.

And despite herself—despite Samantha's warning—Lora melted into him.

His hands slid beneath her robe, fingers grazing bare skin—setting her nerves alight. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

She wanted to resist. To demand the truth.

But his mouth was claiming hers—tongue tangling, possessive, and skilled.

Her body betrayed her—heat pooling low in her belly, breath quickening.

Dorian lifted her easily, carrying her toward the bed.

"No spells," he whispered against her throat. "Only us."

The silk robe slipped from her shoulders. His lips traced a burning path across her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts.

Lora arched beneath him—caught between desire and doubt.

And then

She saw it.

A faint shimmer of silk thread glimmered at her wrist, barely visible in the candlelight.

Silk-binding.

A sharp pang of fear pierced the haze.

"Stop," she gasped. "Dorian—what is this?"

He froze—eyes darkening.

But before he could answer—a low chime echoed through the castle.

A warning bell.

Dorian swore softly, pulling away.

"They come too soon," he muttered. "I must go. Stay here. Trust me."

And with a swirl of his cloak—he vanished into the shadows.

---

Lora lay trembling—half-dressed, heart racing. The faint silk thread glimmered again. Samantha had been right.

Her choice was clear now: obey Dorian... or seek the truth herself.

Eyes burning with resolve, she rose—wrapped in her robe—and turned toward the Library.

---

The Hidden Room

The great Library of Castle Viral was colder than she remembered—vast rows of dark shelves rising into the shadows, lit only by flickering candelabras.

Lora's bare feet made no sound on the polished marble floor. Her silk robe whispered as she moved, heart pounding.

Samantha's words echoed in her mind:

"Find the room behind the Library... before he does."

Her breath misted in the chill air.

She had not seen another soul since leaving her chambers—Dorian gone, the castle eerily still.

But something called to her...

A faint pull beneath her ribs, as if some forgotten instinct guided her steps.

She followed the spiral stair to the upper gallery—past dust-laden tomes and ancient grimoires—until she reached a far wall veiled in heavy crimson drapes.

A strange draft stirred the fabric.

There.

Drawing back the drapes, she found a carved archway—sealed with a tall oak panel. No visible handle, no hinges.

For a moment, she hesitated—pulse racing.

Then—remembering Samantha's warning—she pressed her palms to the wood... and whispered:

"Open."

A faint shimmer sparked across the grain. The panel trembled—then, with a low groan, slid open.

Beyond it—stone steps descending into darkness.

What is this place...?

Drawing a candelabra from the nearest table, Lora stepped into the passage—sealing the door behind her.

---

The air grew colder with each step—thick with ancient magic, the scent of blood and old stone.

Far below the castle's heart, the stairs ended in a narrow corridor—lined with faded portraits, their subjects' eyes following her.

At the end stood a black iron door—runes etched deep into its surface.

Lora swallowed hard.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the latch.

It opened at her touch—revealing a hidden chamber bathed in faint crimson light.

A single pedestal stood in the center—holding a leather-bound book.

Beside it: a silver mirror, cracked but still gleaming.

And as she stepped closer—visions flared before her eyes.

---

Memories—raw and brutal—rushed through her mind:

A grand court, bathed in candlelight.

A forbidden tryst—herself, tangled in silk sheets with a man.

Not Dorian.

— A king—enemy of House Virel. His touch on her skin, his lips at her throat.

Her breath caught.

I was unfaithful... to Dorian?

More images came—her mother's voice, frantic:

"Dorian can never forgive this.

You must flee, Lora. He will kill you if he knows."

A sudden pain burned her wrist—where the silk-binding shimmered.

The spell fought to suppress the memory—but it was too late.

She saw now—why her memories had been stolen. Why Dorian had bound her again.

To hide the truth.

I betrayed him... I was no innocent bride...

---

And then—another vision—even darker:

— Her parents—cornered in a cold chamber. Dorian, pale with rage.

"She will pay the debt—with her life. I can't prevent it."

Her mother, weeping: "Please, Dorian. Have mercy..."

And the flash of steel.

Blood.

---

Lora staggered back, gasping.

Her hands flew to her throat.

They didn't flee... they're dead. Dorian killed them.

The weight of the truth crushed her.

How much more is hidden?

---

A faint sound snapped her from the vision—a footfall behind her.

She spun—candlelight flickering.

Dorian stood in the doorway—eyes dark with fury.

"You should not be here," he said coldly.