Shadows Of The Past

Kelsey didn’t sleep much after Silas left.

She lay on the massive four-poster bed, staring at the ornate ceiling carved with wolves and crescent moons, replaying every second of what had just happened. The way his body had been changing — bones shifting, eyes glowing, claws lengthening. The raw pain in his voice. And the strangest part: how her touch had calmed him.

She rubbed her palm, still feeling the faint echo of that electric warmth. It terrified her. Not because it happened, but because some deep, instinctive part of her had wanted to help him.

“This is Stockholm Syndrome setting in already,” she muttered to herself, sitting up. “Get it together, Kelsey.”

The blood moon still hung heavy in the sky outside the tall window, casting the room in an eerie crimson glow. She had no idea what time it was — her phone and watch were gone — but the castle felt quieter now, as if the worst of the night had passed.

She spent the next hour searching the room again, more methodically this time. She checked behind tapestries, under the heavy furniture, and along the stone walls for any hidden mechanisms. Nothing. The door was solid oak reinforced with iron. The window overlooked a sheer drop into a misty ravine. Even if she could break the glass, jumping would be suicide.

Eventually, exhaustion won. She curled up under the thick blankets and drifted into another dream.

Aylin stood in a sunlit meadow, flowers blooming around her bare feet. Silas — younger, unscarred, with laughter in his silver eyes — lifted her into his arms and spun her around. Their kiss was fierce and full of promise.

“Forever,” he whispered against her lips.

Then the sky darkened. A woman in a flowing black gown appeared on the ridge — Morgana. Her hand glowed with red magic.

“Your love will cost you everything,” the witch hissed.

The meadow turned to battlefield. Howls. Blood. Aylin’s scream as claws tore through her.

Kelsey woke with a gasp, clutching the sheets. The dream felt more real than the room around her. She could still smell the wildflowers and taste the metallic tang of blood.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Before she could respond, it opened. A young woman in simple dark clothing entered, carrying a tray of food and fresh clothes. She kept her eyes lowered.

“My lord thought you might be hungry,” the woman said quietly. “And these clothes may be more comfortable.”

Kelsey eyed the tray warily — roasted meat, fresh bread, fruits, and a pitcher of water. Her stomach growled despite everything.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Elira. I serve the King.” The woman set the tray down and glanced at Kelsey with quiet curiosity. “You… look like the paintings.”

“Paintings?”

Elira hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve said too much. Please eat. The King will come for you soon.”

She left quickly, locking the door behind her.

Kelsey ate quickly, ravenous after the long day and night. The food was surprisingly good. As she finished, she noticed something strange — when she tried to remember her mother’s favorite song, the one she always hummed when stressed, the melody slipped away like smoke. She frowned, shaking her head. Stress. It had to be stress.

The door opened again without warning.

Silas entered.

He looked more composed than last night, though exhaustion lined his face. The scars on his chest were visible where his black shirt hung open at the collar. His silver-grey eyes were calmer, but no less intense.

“You’re still here,” Kelsey said dryly, standing up. “I was hoping last night was a fever dream.”

“You know it wasn’t.” He closed the door and leaned against it, studying her. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been kidnapped by a delusional werewolf who thinks I’m his dead girlfriend.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Mate,” he corrected. “Not girlfriend. And you are her. Reborn.”

Kelsey crossed her arms. “Prove it.”

Silas pushed off the door and walked slowly toward her. He stopped just out of arm’s reach. “You had a dream last night. A meadow. Laughter. Then blood.”

Kelsey’s stomach dropped. “How do you know that?”

“Because I was there with you. In the dream.” His voice softened slightly. “Aylin and I… we were happy once. Until the war. Until I failed to protect her.”

He reached out and gently touched the side of her face. Kelsey flinched but didn’t pull away. His fingers were warm, calloused.

“You feel the pull,” he said. “Even now.”

She hated that he was right. There was something magnetic about him — terrifying and magnetic.

“What’s the curse, exactly?” she asked, forcing her reporter voice. “And why seven days?”

Silas dropped his hand and moved to the window, looking out at the misty mountains. “A witch named Morgana cursed me after the war. Every hundred years, during the blood moon eclipse, the curse awakens fully. For seven days I must pay a blood debt each day, or the pain becomes unbearable. At night… you saw what happens. If the curse isn’t broken by the seventh night, I become the beast permanently.”

“And I’m supposed to break it?” Kelsey asked, voice skeptical.

“You’re the only one who can.” He turned back to her. “Your presence calms the beast. Your blood, willingly given in the bonding ritual on the final night, can end it.”

Kelsey laughed bitterly. “So I’m either your prisoner or your blood sacrifice. Great options.”

Silas’s expression darkened. “I won’t force you. But if you try to run, the veil won’t let you leave until the window closes. And there are things in these woods far more dangerous than me.”

A heavy silence fell between them.

Kelsey’s mind raced. She needed information. She needed leverage. “Show me the castle. Let me see where I actually am. If I’m stuck here for a week, at least let me understand what I’m dealing with.”

Silas regarded her for a long moment, as if weighing the risk. Finally, he nodded.

“Come.”

He led her out of the room and into a long, torch-lit corridor. The castle was breathtaking and ominous — soaring ceilings, ancient tapestries depicting great battles, suits of armor that looked like they had seen real war. Servants and guards bowed deeply when Silas passed, but they stared at Kelsey with open curiosity and, in some cases, suspicion.

He took her to a vast library filled with thousands of ancient books and scrolls. Moonlight streamed through tall arched windows.

“This was Aylin’s favorite place,” he said quietly. “She loved learning about our world.”

Kelsey ran her fingers along the spines of old leather books. Some titles were in languages she didn’t recognize. One shelf held what looked like detailed records of Lycan history.

As she pulled out a heavy tome, a sharp pang hit her temple. For a second, she couldn’t remember her boss’s name at the Gazette. Stone… something. The Echo Price, she realized with growing dread. It was already starting.

Silas noticed her discomfort. “It begins,” he said softly. “Every time you calm me, you lose a piece of your old life.”

Kelsey slammed the book shut. “Then maybe I should stop helping you.”

“You won’t,” he replied with dark certainty. “Because deep down, you already feel what I feel.”

He stepped closer, backing her against the bookshelf. The air between them thickened. His gaze dropped to her lips.

“Tell me to leave you alone, Kelsey Jones,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I will try.”

Her heart raced. She should push him away. She should demand her freedom.

Instead, she whispered, “I hate that I don’t want to.”

Silas’s control snapped. He leaned down and captured her lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. For one dangerous moment, Kelsey kissed him back — tasting centuries of longing, pain, and desperate hope.

Then she pulled away, breathing hard.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said shakily.

Silas smiled — a dark, predatory smile. “It means everything.”

He stepped back, giving her space. “You have free movement within the occupied wings of the castle. But do not try to reach the lower levels after dark.”

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door.

“Tonight will be worse than last night. Prepare yourself.”

The door closed behind him.

Kelsey touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear, anger… and something dangerously close to desire.

She looked around the library, determination hardening in her chest.

If she was going to survive these seven days and maybe even break this curse, she needed answers.

And she was going to find them.