Moonclaw Citadel

Moonclaw citadel was nothing like I had imagined.

I had heard stories about it all my life. Stories about towers that reached the clouds, lycans strong enough to tear a man apart with their bare hands, and a King whose name alone made people lower their voices.

None of those stories prepared me for standing beneath its gates. The walls were so high I had to tilt my head back to see the top. 

I tightened my fingers around the small cloth bag hanging from my shoulder. It contained everything I owned. Two dresses, a comb and a few copper coins. Nothing worth stealing.

I had come here because I needed work, that was all.

"You should lower you head."

I turned on hearing a woman's voice behind me. She was a young human woman, perhaps a few years older than me, dressed in the plain grey uniform worn by the citadel's servants.

"I'm Neris," she said.

"Elara."

"I know." She said, causing me to frown.

"You know me?"

She smiled faintly. "The chief servant told us a new human girl was coming."

"Oh." I muttered 

Her gaze moved toward the gates. "Come on. Standing here won't make this place less frightening."

Within minutes, I was shoved behind a curtain and handed a rough gray dress. That was how quickly my old life ended and my new one began.

Neris led me through a side entrance.

"Your duties won't be difficult at first," she said. "You'll help with cleaning, carrying linens, delivering things, whatever the chief servant assigns."

I nodded. "I can do that."

She looked at me with a smile. "You'll be fine, grab that linen basket”. 

I picked up the heavy basket and fell into step with her. I memorized every turn, not because the work was hard, but because I couldn't afford a single mistake.

I had come to Moonclaw with one purpose, to earn enough to survive and I wasn't going to ruin that on day one.

By afternoon, Neris and I were carrying folded linens down one of the upper royal corridors.

Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and the corridors became silent like a graveyard, then I looked up. The lycan king was walking toward us.

Every servant around us instantly dropped to their knees, heads pressed against the stone floor. I followed their example, dropping low and clutching the stack of linens tightly against my chest.

Kaelith was unlike any man I had ever seen.

He wore black from head to toe, the dark fabric fitting his broad frame without a single ornament. Black hair fell loosely around his sharp jaw, and his golden eyes burned beneath his thick lashes. 

He didn't need a crown. His presence alone demanded submission.

I forced my gaze down to the cold floor, but I couldn't stop my trembling hands and just then, the corner of the top linen slipped from me.

The fabric hit the floor with a soft thud. For a second I felt my heart jump into my stomach.

Without thinking, I reached out and scooped the cloth back into my arms. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."

Heavy footsteps stopped directly in front of me.

My fingers froze in the air as my breath was caught in my throat. For a second, all I could hear was the thumping of my own pulse.

Then his voice came, deep and slowly. "You should be more careful."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I whispered, keeping my eyes locked on his black boots.

His footsteps started up again, echoing down the long hall until they finally faded into the distance. 

Only when the doors at the end of the corridor slammed shut did the other servants breathe again.

I straightened up, fixing the fabric carefully with the others to my chest. Neris let out a long, ragged breath beside me.

"What?" I asked, seeing her pale face.

She shook her head, staring at the empty hallway. "Nothing."

"You look like you just saw an executioner." I frowned. "Because I dropped the linen?"

She shot me a sharp look. "Because you dropped it in front of him."

I glanced down at the folded cloth in my hands. "He only told me to be careful."

"Exactly." She picked up her fallen bundle, her fingers visibly shaking. "You were lucky, Elara. Don't do it again."

I didn't understand why a simple dropped sheet was cause for terror, but I knew better than to push.

We returned to work, the rest of the afternoon passing in a quiet blur.

Near evening, the chief servant caught up to us in the main hall.

"Elara," she called, her stern voice cutting through the noise.

I straightened instantly. "Yes, my lady?"

"Take these to the lower servants' hall." She thrust a heavy stack of fresh linens into my arms.

"Right away."

Before Neris could follow, the chief servant pointed her toward the kitchens, leaving me to head down the lower stairwell alone.

The lower servants' hall was far quieter than the rest of the citadel.

I slowed my pace as I approached the archway. A group of five human servants were gathered near the entrance. Nobody was moving. Nobody was speaking.

A woman near the back had her hands over her mouth, quietly crying.

I paused in my tracks "What happened?"

None of them looked at me nor answered. I followed their terrified glances down to the floor.

Blood.

A thin, dark red trail ran across the floor. My stomach violently turned. I followed the red trail with my eyes until it vanished around the corner.

I took a slow, cautious step forward. Then another.

The smell hit me next. The metallic stench of fresh blood and death.

I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks. A human servant lay collapsed against the wall. She wasn't moving. Bright blood had completely soaked through her gray dress, pooling across the stone beneath her.

The linens slipped slightly in my grip, pressing hard against my collarbone.

I stared at her, I didn't know her name, I had never spoken a word to her. But she wore the same gray dress I did.

A human servant like me, dead inside moonclaw citadel.

"What happened to her?" My voice came out as a fractured whisper.

Still, no one in the hall answered.

I took a step back, my heels clicking sharply on the stone, and immediately bumped into someone standing right behind me.

I turned around.

The chief servant stood there, towering over me. Her cold eyes swept over my terrified face, flicked to the body on the floor, and then snapped right back to me.

"Elara."

I swallowed a chunk of saliva down my throat, forcing my voice to work. "Yes, my lady?"

"What are you doing standing here?"

"I... I was bringing the linens, like you asked."

She looked down at the stack in my arms, her face completely unreadable. "Take them back to the store room."

My eyes darted back toward the dead girl in the pool of blood. "But... she's dead."

"I have eyes, girl. I can see that."

"Who killed her?" I whispered, the shock wearing off just enough for terror to take over. "How did this happen?"

The chief servant stepped closer, stepping right into my personal space until I had to tilt my head up to meet her eyes.

"You've been in this citadel for less than a day," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss.

"Yes, my lady," I whispered.

"Then learn something quickly if you want to see day two." She leaned in closer. "There are things in this fortress you do not ask about."

I glanced back at the body on the stone.

"And there are things you survive by pretending you never saw," she added softly.

A harsh chill ran straight down my spine.

She held my gaze for a few seconds, letting the threat settle into my lungs, before stepping back.

"Take the linens back. Now."

"Yes, my lady."

I turned on my heel and walked away as fast as my legs would carry me without running.

My mind was reeling as the image of the dead girl burned behind my eyelids. The blood. The silence of the other servants. The casual brush-off by the chief servant.

Everyone had seen her body. Everyone knew she was gone. And not a single person dared to speak her name.

As I hurried back up the dark stone stairwell, one realization settled heavily in my gut. I had come to moonclaw believing the hardest part would be surviving the labor.

I was wrong. The hardest part would be learning what not to see