Pain... That was all she felt. Immense, all-consuming pain. It tore through her, both physically and mentally, until she felt as though every part of her being... her very soul was being torn apart. She was gravely injured, bleeding, on the verge of death. Her blood defiled the pristine white of the snow beneath her, dyeing it a deep shade of crimson. Her hair was scattered across the snow like spilled black ink, its dark strands gradually disappearing beneath the relentless snowfall. Her golden eyes, once bright enough to rival the morning sun, had grown dim, staring blankly at the gray sky above. Her eyes held nothing now but apathy and a disregard for everything... Even her own life. For she simply waited for death to claim her. This was Estella Montharne, the heir of Silvervale, a territory ruled by the Montharne family. Or rather, it would be more accurate to now call her "The former heir of Silvervale." She took a breath and shuddered at the pain of it. The cold was unbearable, so much so that breathing itself became agony. Every inhale felt like breathing in shattered glass, carving a painful path down her chest. She coughed and then attempted to draw in a deeper breath, but another fit seized her instead. By the time it subsided, a sharp ache had settled deep within her lungs, leaving her no choice but to return to short, ragged breaths. She groaned in pain. Tears flowed out of her emotionless eyes, tracing warm paths down the side of her face, towards her ears. For a fleeting moment, their warmth was almost comforting in this cruel cold, a fragile reminder that she was still alive. Then the tears slowed, hardening into delicate beads of ice before they could fall. Frost clung to her raven-black lashes, making each blink slower and heavier than the last. She tried to blink, but her eyelashes clung together beneath the thin layer of frost, parting only after a painful effort. Estella had done nothing wrong. She wasn't injured by her enemies, nor was she being punished. Rather, her own family had done this to her, her fiancé and her father, to be exact. "Betrayal doesn't come from your enemies, it comes from your closest allies." She finally understood that quote. The memory of that morning flashed through her mind: Darius embracing her to celebrate their victory over a major foe, her father smiling at her from a distance. Then they told her they wanted to show her something near the precipice. Although she still felt drowsy from an illness she had suffered a few months prior, she went along anyway. Other memories blurred past until she reached the part where Darius embraced her from behind. Noticing he was unusually affectionate that day, she leaned into it, pleased by the attention. Then she felt it. A sharp pain in her lower abdomen, and Darius's grip turning from gentle to rough, full of malice. She felt indescribable shock and fear, though she tried to convince herself it wasn't him, that it had to be an enemy instead. But she knew that was a lie. The hand that drove the dagger into her was her lover's. It was like a phantasm carved in the flesh. A living nightmare. Her father only stared at her coldly, his gaze devoid of any warmth a parent should hold for their child, before covering her mouth to muffle her scream and speaking the words that would forever haunt her. "If only you had been born a man instead." The rest of what he said, Estella could not remember. She could only watch, helpless, as he twisted the dagger still lodged in her stomach, inflicting fresh agony before he wrenched it free and walked away. Then it was Darius, whom she had trusted, who pushed her off. His gaze carried no guilt. Only the insecurity of a man whose pride had been wounded. She had truly believed he was her Nightbound, her intended. She had believed he was the love of her life, the perfect husband she had always dreamed of. Darius Hale had been everything she had ever wished for. Handsome. Gentle. Charismatic. She had trusted him without question. She had placed her life on the line for him, had killed for him, had given him her trust, her body, her heart... Her everything. And this was the same man who drove a dagger into her stomach. When their eyes met in that moment, she saw no love in them, no regret. All she saw was the look one might give a tool that had outlived its worth. A rusty, faulty, old tool. Estella closed her eyes. Even now, she could still remember his smile. The warmth of his touch. The promises he had whispered in her ear beneath the night sky. Every kiss. Every vow. Everything. All of it was a lie. The betrayal shattered her very being. Those who were meant to love her most had become the instruments of her death. She had been loyal to Silvervale, loyal to her family, loyal to everything she thought mattered. She had trained relentlessly to be worthy of the Montharne name. She had risked her life more than once to make her father proud. But all of that... Was for naught. From the start, they had only seen her as a tool to be discarded. She watched his figure grow more and more distant as she plummeted. She remembered the wind rushing past her as she fell. She remembered the desperate flailing, the instinctive grasp for anything to hold onto, before the clouds swallowed her whole and she lost consciousness. When she woke, she found that she was still alive, lying in the snow with a few broken bones. She wondered how she survived, but thought it was the snow cushioning her fall. But that was nothing to be grateful of, for it was more of a curse than a blessing. And so she lay there, tearfully waiting to be turned into a frozen corpse, enduring nothing but an endless torment of cold, asking herself what she did wrong, but failed to come up with an answer. Life had become so agonizing that she no longer wanted to live. She would have ended her pathetic existence herself if she could. But she could no longer feel her fingers or her legs. She stayed there for a long time. ******* How long had it been? Hours? Days? Time had lost all meaning in this frozen wasteland. For all she knew was the cold, the pain, the suffering, and the creeping numbness that was gradually stealing sensation from her, both physical and emotional. Then she heard it: the crunch of snow, faint at first, but growing steadily closer. Something was coming, and whatever it was, it was heading straight toward her. The Frozen Wasteland marked the border between Silvervale and Frostveil, though the land belonged mostly to the latter, which meant whatever approached was more likely to be an enemy than a rescuer. Or worse, an animal searching for prey. Then, through the veil of falling snow, she caught sight of a tall silhouette in the distance. Its features remained slightly obscured by the raging blizzard, leaving only a dark outline visible to her. From the shape of it, she could tell it was a male. With every step, the figure grew clearer, its imposing form more distinct as it closed the distance between them. Then it came to a halt, just a few feet away. For a long moment, the figure said nothing, only watching her in silence. The blizzard continued to rage between them, veiling the stranger's face beneath a curtain of swirling snow. Estella squinted, desperately trying to make out his features, but the frost clinging to her lashes and the tears clouding her vision reduced him to little more than a dark silhouette. All she could make out were his glowing blue eyes. His gaze was cold enough to rival an ancient glacier. It remained fixed upon her without the slightest flicker of emotion, causing an inexplicable unease to settle in the pit of her stomach. Then the wind blew and the hood of his cloak was thrown back. Estella's eyes widened in horror. Even with her vision poor at the moment, she could still make out the outline of his face. A face she would never be able to forget. Silvery gray hair, pale skin, eyes of frosty blue that seemed capable of freezing the soul of anyone who dared gaze into them for too long, a handsome face that did not match his devilish nature, sword-shaped brows, a sharp jawline... A man she had tried to kill countless times. ...And the man who had tried to kill her too. If Darius had become the demon of her nightmares, then this man... This man would be the devil himself. He was Adrian Lykas. The infamous Lord of the South. The Alpha of Frostveil... And her sworn enemy. Silent hatred and seething rage burned behind Estella's eyes, layered beneath a thin veneer of apathy, the look of someone with nothing left to lose. And yet she still felt a faint thread of unease. No one, she supposed, could feel entirely at ease with their sworn enemy standing over them, even on the verge of death. "What-" She couldn't complete her sentence as a violent cough seized her frail body. Fresh blood stained the corner of her mouth. She took a few rapid breaths to stabilize herself before continuing. "What are you doing here... You vile thing..." she said weakly. Adrian remained silent, the coldness in his eyes matching her apathy so closely that they might have been mistaken to be a dead man's. "Does it matter?" he said, his voice pitched like a whisper... yet far more audible than one, eloquent and full of quiet finesse. His eyes assessed her sorry state, and Estella did not miss the brief flicker of satisfaction that crossed those otherwise emotionless eyes. Estella's lips had turned a pale bluish-purple, split in several places where the bitter wind had stolen every trace of moisture. Tiny cracks marked their surface, and every little movement reopened them, leaving faint smears of crimson that quickly froze against her skin. Her cheeks were drained of color beneath a dusting of frost. Her fingers were frozen and curled. Even keeping her eyes open seemed exhausting to her. "I am impressed you lasted this long. In this condition of yours, many would have died long ago..." He tilted his head, his expression morphing into one of false pity, one he didn't bother to hide. "But then again, you were always so stubborn, Estella." His eyes shifted to a different shade of blue. "Even now, half-dead..." He leaned slightly. "... And shivering, still... You glare at me with those fiery eyes of yours." "It is none of your concern... Begone. Your very existence repulses me." Adrian ignored her and took a few steps closer. "Tell me..." He tilted his chin upward, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly into the faintest mockery. "What hurts more? The pain you are in or the fact that the man you trusted most did this to you?" Those words struck her like barbs tightening around her heart, and her eyes stung with sudden tears and fury. Estella's glare intensified. If looks could kill, Adrian Lykas would have dropped dead where he stood. Still, she said nothing. She had little strength left to argue with him. "Tell me. What does it feel like, being discarded and hurt by the very people who were supposed to want you?" Her lips quivered. She knew the answer to that. It hurt. It hurt so much that her heart felt shattered into a thousand pieces, so much that she wondered if falling in love was a mistake. But she would never admit that to him. Not ever. "S-shut up." she said in a shaky voice. Adrian said nothing for a moment, his gaze moving over her with an intensity so great that her frail, shivering frame seemed to be the only thing reflected in his cold eyes. "I have no love for you. But leaving you to die in the snow would be a waste. It offends me more than I expected. Especially when I am not the cause of it." His eyes seemed to have blue flames nestling in them as he said those words. "That's why-" "No." Estella coldly cut him off, already knowing where this was going. "I don't care what deal you have... I would rather die than owe you anything. I want nothing... Absolutely nothing to do with you, Lykas. If you won't kill me now, then go. Just go, and stop tormenting me..." She said it between heavy, labored breaths. Her mind drifted in and out like fading echoes, struggling to hold on to a single coherent thought. She could feel her consciousness fading, and she hoped, she desperately hoped, that she would die at last. Something flickered behind his pale eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Then, without a word, he began approaching her with long, powerful strides. The apathy Estella felt vanished for a brief moment, replaced by a flicker of fear. What was he going to do to her? She had no strength to fight back, or even to move. She was utterly helpless, entirely at his mercy. Her teeth chattered, not just from the cold, but from the sudden, dawning realization of just how dire her situation truly was. If Adrian wanted to do anything to her, she wouldn't be able to resist. Her mind conjured every horrible scenario at once, every story she had ever heard of what men like him did to enemies too weak to fight back. She had seen what Frostveil left behind on the battlefield. She knew exactly what he was capable of. Only the gods knew what he intended to do to her before she took her last breath. She didn't want to be defiled by him. "Wait-" Her voice broke into something desperate, something she barely recognized as her own. "What are you going to do to me? Are you... Are you going to abuse my corpse when I die?" Adrian froze mid-step, profound disbelief etched across his face. For a moment he only stared at her, then let out a short chuckle. "I don't know what kind of monster you think I am, Estella. But I don't have that kind of fetish. I prefer them warm and fresh, not a stiff, frozen corpse." he said, unaware of how strange that admission sounded. Estella didn't answer. She couldn't. Her head had already begun to spin. A brief wave of weightlessness overcame her, and her vision blurred at the edges. Then a large hand slid beneath her and lifted her from the snow. The suddenness of it tore a sharp gasp from her, and her whole body went rigid, pain and terror colliding violently in her chest. "U-unhand me this instant... You imbecile." she said in a pained voice. She tried to keep her eyes open, but alas, she could not hold onto consciousness any longer. The last thing she saw before the darkness finally took her was Adrian, staring down at her, his expression unreadable.

Adrian looked down at Estella Montharne, his rival. She hung limp in his arms, weightless, despite being nearly his height. Her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Cold blood had soaked through what remained of her clothes, dark and stark against the white. Even like this, broken, filthy, reeking of blood and half-healed wounds, she still carried herself the way she always had. Even while unconscious, pride clung to her. Grace held her features in its quiet grip, and her stillness carried the same defiance, the same strength and elegance she had worn every day of her life. It was, despite everything, one of the things he admired about her, even beneath the weight of the hatred he harbored for her existence, even beneath his desire to see the spark of life leave her eyes. For a moment he crouched there, staring at the one face he had come to hate. Darius Hale and Jorad Montharne. He found it mildly interesting that those two had decided to discard Estella for whatever reason or plan they had. And whatever it was, it wasn't his problem. But one thing caught his attention. Estella was not a woman easily caught off guard. He knew that better than most. Which meant, for betrayal to have shattered her this thoroughly, she had trusted them. Completely, and without reservation. It was not his concern how thoroughly her own people had broken her. If anything, it should have pleased him. Silvervale weakened from within was a gift he would welcome with open arms. And yet... For some reason, Adrian Lykas felt slightly displeased. Estella Montharne was his... If anyone was meant to break her, it should have been him and only him. Adrian glanced upward, his gaze piercing through the clouds toward the distant peaks where Silvervale's domain was located. She had not willingly descended from that towering height to confront him, as she so often did. She had been betrayed and thrown down instead, left for the merciless cold to finish her off... ...Or perhaps left for him to finish, considering how absurdly close to his own domain they had dropped her. If he had to guess why Jorad would willingly discard something as valuable as his own heir, it would be fear. Fear of exactly how much potential she carried. Fear of Estella usurping him despite being a woman. He knew how deep that man's ego ran, and how insecure he truly was beneath it. As for Darius, Adrian had nothing worth saying about that vile snake. Just the thought of the man left him with a strange, simmering irritation. He exhaled, his breath clouding in the frigid air, a calculating glint settling into his eyes. Then he rose to his feet. She stirred faintly against him, some instinct even in unconsciousness recognizing the touch of an enemy, and let out a small, pained sound before going still once more. He stared down at her a moment longer before turning and whistling sharply into the storm. A heartbeat later, countless silhouettes of different shapes emerged from the dark. Without looking back at them, Adrian spoke, his voice carrying an authority so profound it stilled the storm itself. "What happened here tonight does not leave the confines of your mouths." He paused, letting them fully feel the gravity of his words. "If a single word of this gets out, I will send your heads flying. Personally." The silhouettes shifted, uneasy, none daring to speak, none daring to even look at him directly. "Am I understood?" A murmured chorus of assent followed immediately. Adrian said nothing further. He turned, gathering Estella into his arms without waiting for anyone to move toward her, and started back toward Frostveil at a hurried pace. The dark silhouettes fell into step behind him at a careful distance, none of them foolish enough to be too close to their lord with his current mood. By the time they reached his castle, the storm had begun to worsen. "Send for the Shaman." Adrian's tone was stern as he carried her through the halls, her blood leaving faint marks against his sleeve. "Have him meet me in the east wing." - Estella woke with a pained groan, her eyes darting over unfamiliar surroundings as her mind slowly registered one detail at a time. The first thing she registered was a canopy of wine-red velvet, gathered at the four posts and hemmed in gold thread that caught the firelight in thin, wavering lines. The posts were dark carved oak, twined with ivy so finely cut that each leaf had its own veins. Heavy drapes hung from the rails on braided cords, and the bed beneath them was wide enough for three people to sleep comfortably without touching. She turned her head slowly. The movement pulled at her ribs, and she held her breath until the ache dulled. Tall arched windows lined the opposite wall, divided into small leaded panes that frost had whitened at the edges. Gray daylight pressed through them and fell across the floor in pale bars, and dust motes drifted through each bar, turning as they sank. The floorboards were a deep polished brown, the grain warming wherever the light touched it. A thick rug woven in gray and cream lay before the hearth, where a low fire had burned down to orange embers. Two high-backed chairs faced the fire, upholstered in faded green velvet, their carved arms worn smooth where hands had rested for years. Between them stood a small round table holding a silver pitcher and a single glass. Her throat was parched. It felt scraped raw from the inside, every swallow dragging down its length, and her tongue lay thick against the roof of her mouth, coated with the taste of iron and bitter herbs. She licked her lips and found them cracked. The pitcher sat across the room, far beyond what her body could manage. A tapestry covered the wall beside the door, a pale hunt through snow-laden pines, its threads dulled by years of hearth smoke. There was a wardrobe, a writing desk, a candle stand with the candles unlit. Everything was clean and expensive, and none of it was personal. No weapons hung on the walls and no boots stood by the door. The sheets smelled of cedar smoke and dried lavender, and of nothing she knew. Whether this was a room for guests, or for prisoners, and she could not tell. Another dull, pounding ache wrecked every inch of her body. With another groan, she pushed herself upright, only to be met with a splitting headache. She winced, drawing in a sharp, hissing breath, and pressed a hand to her temple, waiting for it to subside. That was when the memories came. They did not arrive gently. They tore through her all at once. Her father's face, cold and stripped of every warmth, regarded her as something foreign, a thing to be discarded rather than trusted with the legacy she had spent her whole life preparing to inherit. Darius, who had let her believe she was loved, his face twisting into something she no longer recognized. The dagger sliding into the side she had turned toward him in trust. Years of devotion, of every sacrifice she had laid at their feet, crumbled to ash beneath the weight of their betrayal. Her breath came out shallow and ragged, her vision blurring with sudden tears. Her chest felt like it was caving in on itself, the pain of it worse than anything she had felt in her entire life. "Why? Why am I still alive? Who-" Estella froze as the fog in her mind cleared all at once, a single face rising to the surface of her memory, her pupils dilating. "Adrian..." she whispered to herself. That man had saved her. She did not know why he had saved her. But she knew, with total certainty, that it had not been out of compassion. Whatever his reasons were, they were not good ones. She didn't want to find out what they were. And beyond that, she simply didn't have a reason left to keep living. So she decided. Her claws extended from her fingertips, their silver surface gleaming faintly in the dim firelight, and her hand rose toward her own throat with a strange, distant calm. She was going to end her life. Not just because no one wanted her, not just because no one loved her. She was not weak-minded enough that she would seek to end her life just because of this betrayal... She was just... Tired. Tired of everything. Her love for her family and Darius was the only thing that had kept her going. But... The very people who were supposed to protect her, betrayed her. They had never loved her... So she just wanted to rest for eternity in the cold embrace of death. There was no reason left to keep enduring. No reason to keep breathing through pain this unbearable. The tip of her claw grazed the skin of her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Just as she was about to push further, the door burst open, and in a heartbeat, Adrian was in front of her, his hand closing around her wrist with bruising force, wrenching it away before she could do any real damage. It happened so fast that barely a second went by. "Let go." Estella growled, throwing whatever energy she had into forcing her hand forward, but he did not let it move an inch. Desperate, she lunged for her throat with her other hand instead. He caught that wrist too, and in one swift, ruthless motion, shoved her back against the mattress, pinning both her hands above her head. His grip was like iron, unyielding, his body braced over hers to keep her from thrashing free. The sudden movement tore several of her wounds back open, blood seeping fresh into the pristine clothing on her. "Stop this at once, woman." Adrian's voice was furious, closer to raw anger than she had ever heard from him. "Why?" She choked, the tears she had been holding back broke free, her body shaking beneath him from grief, from exhaustion, from the sheer unbearable weight of still being alive. "Why does it matter to you? I'm nothing but a pathetic woman who never had any true worth." A muffled, broken sob tore out of her. "So stop. Stop torturing me with this...This thing you call life. Just let me take it away." Adrian said nothing. His frosty blue eyes only bored into her, unreadable, unmoving. She strained weakly against his grip, though she had no real strength left to fight him. In the end, she stopped trying. "Adrian Lykas." Her voice cracked over his name. "I'm not asking you to spare me. Just end me... I'm begging you." Her teary golden eyes lifted to meet his blue ones. "Wasn't that what you always wanted?" she said through a shaky breath. "Just do it. Stop toying with me. I-I don't care how you do it... I don't care how you kill me. Just take my life and let it be over. Am I-" She choked. "Am I not broken enough for you? Why won't you just let me die? There is nothing left. Nothing left for you to break. So why won't you just end me?" Something hardened in his expression, his pale eyes burning with something she couldn't name, something far too intense to be the indifference he usually wore like armor. "Why are you silent?" she whispered, her voice cracking entirely now. "Say something, Adrian! I don't want to live. I have no desire to." For a long moment, he said nothing at all. The only sounds in the room were her ragged breathing, the fire crackling low in the hearth, and the storm still howling faintly beyond the castle walls. "You don't get to decide that, Estella." His grip on her wrists tightened even more. "You no longer have the right..." He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "...Because you belong to me now."

"...Because you belong to me now." The words hung in the air between them, heavier than the storm still raging beyond the walls. Estella stared up at him, uncomprehending, her mind too fractured with grief to fully process what he had just said. "What?" It was the only word she managed to say at that moment. Her disbelief was almost palpable. "You heard me, Estella Montharne. You are mine." Adrian's voice grew lower, and something dangerous simmered beneath it now. "You are not going to die tonight. I would not permit it. Be it by your own hand or by anyone else's." "I don't belong to anyone. Least of all you." Estella said in a shaky whisper. The grief in her heart turned into hatred and rage. She tried to break free again, but her struggle was futile against Adrian's might. "Wrong." His grip tightened fractionally around her wrists. Not enough to hurt her much, but enough to remind her exactly how little room she had to fight him. "From the moment I saved your life... Every single fiber of your being became mine." His pale eyes bore into hers. Estella stared up at him, speechless. "I never asked, Adrian! I never asked you to!" Her dry voice broke into a high, brittle pitch. "I belong to you? You delude yourself, you bastard! I am not a prize you can just claim because you happened to pick me up." Adrian's lips curved into a cold smirk. "A prize..." He repeated back to her slowly, tilting his head, his tone sliding colder, more mocking with every word. "You flatter yourself, my little she-wolf. Calling yourself a prize is preposterous. Because to the rest of the world, you are already dead. You have nothing left... no Nightbound, no family, no title. Nothing." He paused to savor the look on her face, the way her chest heaved with exhaustion, shame, hatred and rage. The way she lay wrecked beneath him. Adrian found himself craving more of it. He felt an indescribable urge to ruin her more. The Alpha of Frostveil leaned closer, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin, his voice dropping to a low whisper, like the devil tempting an innocent maiden. "Do you want to know what happened in Silvervale four days ago?" Estella's eyes sharpened at the mention of her birthplace and at the same time, her mouth gaped. 'Four days...' She wondered how long she had been unconscious. "Your dearest father announced you as a traitor to werewolves as a whole. Claiming you were a spy for those bloodsuckers." He paused at the mention of the last word. "And thus... He had you disposed of." Estella went still, disbelief flooding her eyes. But why would she believe a single word from this man's mouth? "Y-you're lying." She said, denial evident in her voice. Adrian gave her a small smile and ran his tongue along one canine while releasing a low growl. "I swear it on my life, and by the Moon Goddess herself... What I've told you is true. And what I'm about to tell you will be true as well." A glowing symbol appeared on his forehead before fading the next second. Estella's face drained of color. If he had taken the sacred oath, then every word of it was real. "It can't be..." she said. It suddenly became difficult for her to breathe. Adrian had no intention of letting her recover from her shock, so he continued. "Your allies-" "Don't." Adrian arched a brow. "Please... don't. I don't want to hear it anymore. You've made your point. I have nothing left-so stop. Just stop it." Estella had an inkling of what he would say next; she just didn't want to hear it from his mouth. She knew what happened to the allies of traitors, especially when they were tied to heirs... Adrian tilted his head and scrutinized her deeply. His frosty blue eyes flickered with something close to malice, but not quite it. He would have listened to her. He would have spared her from hearing the horrible news, letting her take it in piece by piece... But... "No." He wanted her shattered. He wanted to see her break. He wanted to see just how hurt she would be. "No?" The word cracked out of her, closer to a sob. Adrian looked down at her, amused. "I'm not inclined to stop just because you told me to." Estella gazed into his eyes and found nothing kind in them... only that same sadistic cruelty she saw any time she battled with him. In his eyes burned a desire to see her suffer, to see her hurt, as if her agony were something he wanted to savor thoroughly. For a split second, a flicker of fear found its way into her heart before being dispelled by all the spite she had for him. "Your allies." He continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. "The ones who stood by your side through thick and thin... Those who swore their allegiance to your name were all captured by your father's orders..." Adrian paused to let his words settle in before he continued. "And killed. Executed publicly." Estella's heart went cold. She had expected something like this. But it still broke her to hear it. The colors of the world suddenly seemed dull through her blurred vision. "Not for any treason of their own, not for any crime of theirs. Only for swearing their loyalty to you. You, Estella... They died because of you." His gaze didn't leave her face, savoring every single reaction on it, every single twitch and attempt to suppress her emotions... He savored it all. "Your father made sure to eliminate all those who might avenge you later." Estella almost sobbed, but she clenched her teeth to hold it in. However, her eyes were brimming with tears. "And Darius." He said the name almost gently. "Your grieving, loyal and devoted Darius... Do you know how long it took him to choose a new Nightbound after you?" "Three days." He said as blue flames seemed to dance in his eyes. "Barely long enough for a corpse to decompose in a coffin." "W-What...?" Her lips parted. Something in her chest gave way. Her very heart slowed, as if it were trying to reject beating altogether. Her tears continued to flow, but she didn't sob, nor did she scream. She felt that the entire life she had been living, and the life she had been envisioning, was all a lie. Estella felt like she had no value in the world any longer. If Estella's eyes had once held a little light in them, there was nothing left now. She had the eyes of a dead woman. ------- Adrian's smile was thin as a blade's edge, and just as sharp. She was breaking before him, piece by glittering piece, and nothing had ever pleased him more. In a way, telling her about Silvervale's deeds was like killing two birds with one stone... Three actually. One, he got to savor Estella's suffering. Two, Estella wouldn't try to commit suicide anymore. Instead, she would avenge them. Three, he would be pitting one of Silvervale's greatest weapons against them. Or so he thought. "Kill me." Estella said, her voice weak, her eyes lacking the will to live. "Adrian, kill me now... I don't deserve to live. Just let me go to hell. I beg of you." If anything, the news had made her more determined to die, not less. Much to Adrian's displeasure. Something dark flickered behind his eyes. "You're very eager to die, aren't you?" He drew her wrists together, pinning both within the grip of his left hand alone. "I'm going to have to disappoint you, Estella. Because you aren't dying until I am done with you." "Kill me." she said again, her voice edging toward desperation, as if breathing itself were agony for her. Estella wanting death so badly only irritated Adrian further. For her to be useful, he needed her living, breathing. He would have loved the sight of her desperately pleading with him, were it not death she wanted. He didn't want her begging for death yet-not when the reason behind it had nothing to do with him. At this rate, he had no choice but to use 'that' now. He lifted his free hand and placed it over her head. Slowly, silver light gathered in his palm, and runic symbols appeared, swirling around his hand. Estella flinched when she saw it. Disbelief flashed in her eyes before apathy swallowed it whole; her will to die overcame the shock. It didn't matter if she died, anyway. Still, whatever Adrian was about to do, she wasn't going to allow it. She thrashed weakly, but her feeble struggles did nothing. Adrian pinned her in place without effort. "Be still, you mutt." He said roughly, then the silver light shot out like a beam and sank into her head. Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out, her entire body going limp. Adrian released her hands. He was about to move again when his eyes caught something. "Why hasn't she healed yet?" he muttered as he studied Estella's unconscious frame. The wounds that had reopened were still red with blood. For a strong werewolf like Estella, it should have closed within half a minute. But it hadn't. Adrian scowled. As the one who had wounded Estella more than anyone else in this world, he knew exactly how fast she healed. And right now, her healing was sluggish, exceedingly so. Something was wrong. Using his telepathic abilities, he summoned the royal werewolf shaman. A/N: For those who are confused by the new names... In this world, relationships have tiers. Nightbound: Girlfriend and boyfriend status. You can feel a special connection with your loved one. Runemarked: Engaged/Eternal dual tattoo. Not necessarily required for a happy, devoted relationship, but done between couples who trust each other. It can be done before or after marriage. After a couple is Runemarked, a unique tattoo that has never been drawn on anyone or anywhere else in the world forms on the body of the lovers. Having a Runemark form on your neck, spine or above the heart is considered a good omen. Undoing the Runemark can be very painful. Tethered One: Married. Undoing this has grave consequences, such as severing someone's soul thread, which can leave you weakened and vulnerable to things like spiritual possession or corrupting forces for some time.