Bound by blood and moonlight

Elara's povWe were given ten minutes. Ten minutes to gather whatever scraps of life we owned and board the bus that would take us to hell.I didn’t have much. No human did. A torn bag I’d sewn from scraps. A broken hairpin I’d found behind the kitchens that I liked to imagine once belonged to someone important. And a single photograph, wrinkled and sun-bleached it was someone else’s family, smiling in a world long gone. I didn't know them, but their happiness made me believe in stories. In a past where humans mattered.The courtyard was crowded with hushed sobs and frantic movements. Twenty of us had been named. Twenty tributes. Some were already crying. Others stared blankly ahead, like their souls had left already. No goodbyes. Just commands. March. Obey. Die quietly.Then I saw it the bus.It was old, rusted, the once-yellow paint faded into a sickly grey. The wheels looked like they hadn’t turned in decades. But it still ran. Barely. The engine coughed to life with a spluttering

Elara's povThe sleeping quarters were worse than I imagined.After our grand welcome and by grand, I mean the king nearly snapping our spines with his voice alone, Clara, the ever-smiling venom in human form, led us down a stone corridor that stank of mildew and sweat. Her heels clicked sharply on the ground as she turned to us, looking far too pleased for someone ushering humans to their temporary cages.“Welcome to your new home,” she chirped, spreading her arms with mock smiles. “Female quarters are on this side. Males on the other. You’re not allowed to mingle after dark unless instructed. And if you get caught sneaking around...well, I hear the dungeons are cozy before castration.”She winked. Someone behind me choked.Clara turned back to the girls. “Now, here’s how this works. You see the bunks? If there’s a blanket on top, it’s taken. If it’s bare, it’s yours assuming you can grab one in time. The linen closet is that way.” She pointed down a shadowed hallway. “Run. Fight. Bl

Elara The scent of blood still clung to my palms. I’d scrubbed the king’s chamber until my arms trembled from overuse, and now, back in the lower corridors, the ache pulsed like a second heartbeat. The hall was darker here water ran down the stone walls, torchlight too low to reach the ends. I found Von where I always did by the cracked arch outside the mess hall, sitting on a crate like it was a throne. He looked up, eyes softening at the sight of me. “You look like hell.” “Thanks,” I muttered, sinking beside him. My limbs protested. Even sitting hurt. “You eat yet?” I hesitated. He turned fully to me, eyes narrowing. “Elara.” “I tried,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Didn’t even get through one bite before Clara swooped in.” “Clara?” His brows furrowed. “Why?” “She said I had to start work earlier than everyone else. That I was already late. I barely had time to stand, let alone eat.” My voice dropped, shame threading through the cracks. “I ran the whole way. No food. No

Kaelen's povI watched her.From the shadows of my balcony, where even the moonlight didn't dare to shine, I watched her—that trembling little thing with wild eyes and what's left of her dignity—as she stood frozen in front of the crowd.The scent of her reached me even here.Gods.That scent.Not quite floral. Not sweet. No, she reeked of rebellion and rain and something far more dangerous, something seductive. Something not human. Not just human.And it enraged me.Because I could smell fear on every girl in this cursed castle. Could taste obedience on my tongues, see the sharp glimmer of submission in their eyes. But not her.Elara.The human girl who burned me.There was something about her I could not name. Something that tugged at me like a leash tied to my neck. My wolf, Elias, snarled every time she entered a room. Not in hate but worse, in hunger.She shook when she walked. Limps, fresh wounds, a bruised cheek and an injured forehead. A wound I had put there myself yet she ca

Elara's povIt had been three weeks since the Pit.Three weeks since flesh tore and blood spilled mine and others'. Since I’d lain on the infirmary floor for days with fever-drenched dreams and pain as my only companion.And yet, the world moved on.It never stops for anyone no matter what you may be going through.That's the harsh fact of reality.Stone halls still echoed with orders. Soldiers still trained. Servants still whispered. And the king—he was still king.But I… I was something else now.Not broken. No. But bent in a way that didn’t straighten. I bore the pains of my body differently now. Slower steps. Shallow breaths. Scars still fresh beneath my clothes, stitches still tight along my ribs and shoulder. My thigh ached with every shift of weight.Still, I walked.Because Clara told me to.That morning, she had come to my chamber with her usual smug grin, her lips painted like rusted iron, her voice like poisoned honey.“His Majesty wishes for tea in the war room. See to it