Chapter three:THE LYCAN IN THE DUNGEON

Serena’s POV

 

Pain drags me back to consciousness.

 

Not sharp pain, the dull, bone-deep kind that makes every breath feel like swallowing glass. When I try to move, my whole body protests so violently that I stop instantly.

 

I lie still, breathing shallowly, and try to figure out where I am before I open my eyes.

 

I’m not on dirt or stone. Whatever I’m lying on is soft, pelts, blankets, something warm. The air smells nothing like Ravenfall. There’s pine, cold air, and something else. Something that makes the weak remains of my wolf lift her head in faint recognition.

 

Lycan.

 

The memory hits all at once, rogues circling, the massive black creature stepping between me and death, silver eyes cutting through the trees, and then darkness.

 

I open my eyes.

 

I’m in a cave. But not a dirty hideout or a desperate shelter. Someone actually lives here. A fire burns in a stone-lined pit. Pelts cover the ground. The bedding beneath me is cleaner than anything I was given as Luna.

 

And near the cave entrance stands a man.

 

Not shifted. Just a man.

 

He’s huge, easily six and a half feet tall, and built like someone who could pull down a tree with his bare hands. His skin is a deep obsidian shade, his shoulders broad enough to block half the light from outside. Tattoos or runes cover his arms in patterns I don’t recognize, glowing faintly in the firelight. His dark hair is tied back, exposing the hard line of his jaw.

 

He’s perfectly still as he watches the forest, like a predator waiting for the world to slip up.

 

This is him. The Lycan.

 

I don’t know how I know it, but I do. The same overwhelming presence, the same pressure in the air that makes my weak wolf want to flatten herself in submission.

 

My body betrays me before I can decide what to do. I shift my weight just slightly, and a small gasp escapes.

 

He turns instantly.

 

Silver eyes lock onto mine, and something inside my chest goes completely still.

 

His face is all harsh lines, strong jaw, high cheekbones, a scar dragging down one side of his face. He looks carved out of stone and storms, but his eyes…those eyes are something else. Ancient. Sharp. Too aware.

 

“You’re awake.” His voice is deep and quiet, but it hits like a command. “Don’t move. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

 

I tried anyway. Stubbornness is the only thing I have left. “Where…?”

 

“Forbidden territory.” He crosses the cave in a few long steps and crouches beside me. His hand presses gently to my shoulder, keeping me down with no effort. “Obsidian Lycan lands. Which means you’re trespassing.”

 

He’s close enough now that I can smell him, cold air, pine, and something old and dangerous. My wolf, weak as she is, makes a soft sound inside me.

 

Perfect. Now she wakes up.

 

“I wasn’t trying to trespass,” I mutter, swallowing dryness. “I was cast out. Rogues were—”

 

“I know.” His eyes scan my face like he’s reading every thought in my head. “I saw what happened. What I want to know is why a Luna-marked wolf was thrown to rogues like trash.”

 

My hand goes to my throat instinctively. The Luna mark should be there. The silver crescent. But when I touch the skin, there’s nothing.

 

He sees my confusion. “Rejection breaks marks,” he says quietly. “But the scar remains. I can see it.”

 

Shame burns at the back of my throat. Even my body doesn’t want to remember me as Luna.

 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say, forcing the words out. “I’m nothing now. No title. No pack. No bond. So either kill me or let me go. Just don’t pretend you care.”

 

His eyebrow lifts slightly. “You assume I plan to kill you?”

 

“You’re a Lycan. I’m a trespasser. Isn’t that what happens next?”

 

“If I wanted you dead,” he says simply, “you wouldn’t have woken up.”

 

He looks away then, like he’s debating something. “You spoke in your sleep,” he finally says. “For two hours. In the ancient tongue.”

 

My stomach drops. “I… I don’t speak it.”

 

“You do,” he counters. “And not just that. What you said wasn’t normal conversation. It was old magic. Forgotten magic.” His eyes narrow. “So I’ll ask again: who are you?”

 

“Serena,” I whisper. “Serena Valen. Former Luna of Ravenfall. And that’s all. I don’t know how or why I said anything.”

 

“Valen,” he repeats slowly. “That bloodline was supposed to be extinct.”

 

“I’m an orphan. I know nothing about my bloodline.”

 

He studies me again, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “An orphan who speaks ancient magic in her sleep. Who survives rejection without losing her mind. Who crosses into Lycan territory and lives.” He tilts his head. “You’re either extremely lucky or extremely dangerous.”

 

Before I can answer, a howl cuts through the night outside, ragged, many voices, getting closer.

 

Rogues.

 

His entire body goes tense. “They’re following your blood scent. They want to finish what they started.”

 

“Then I’ll leave.” I try to sit, and nearly black out. “I won’t bring trouble here.”

 

“You can barely stay upright,” he says flatly. “If you go out there now, you’ll die before you make it twenty steps.”

 

“That’s not your problem.”

 

“It became my problem when I saved you.” He stands, rolling his shoulders. The runes along his arms glow faintly. “Stay inside the cave. Don’t speak. Don’t move.”

 

“What are you—”

 

But he’s already gone.

 

His body shifts before he even clears the entrance. Lycans don’t transform like wolves, it sounds like bones breaking and reforming all at once. Brutal. Painful. Final.

 

Then silence.

 

I know I should stay put. But curiosity wins. I pull myself to the cave mouth, gripping the wall for balance.

 

The moon lights the clearing. And there he stands, not a man anymore, but something far bigger and darker. Nine feet tall at least, black fur, claws like blades, and those shining silver eyes.

 

The rogues freeze when they see him.

 

The gray alpha from before snarls, trying to act tough, but he’s already lost.

 

The Lycan doesn’t make a sound.

 

Then he moves.

 

I’ve seen wolves fight. I’ve fought myself. But nothing compares to this. He tears through rogues like they’re nothing. Fast, brutal, efficient. Within a minute, four are dead. Two flee.

 

Then I see it, a glint of metal buried under his ribs. A small blade. Poisoned. The green glow creeping through his veins is unmistakable.

 

His body sways.

 

Panic hits me like a punch. “No,” I breathe. “No, no—”

 

I stumble outside and run to him. He snarls when I touch him, but I press my hands to his wound anyway.

 

“Don’t pull it,” I say. “The poison will hit your heart.”

 

“I know,” he growls, but he lets me hold the blade.

 

I close my eyes and try to remember the healing chants I studied years ago, old words that never made sense to me.

 

But suddenly, they’re just… there. Rising up like instinct.

 

I chant, voice trembling:

 

“Sìol an fhuil, glan an nimh… Neart na talmhainn…”

 

My hands heat up, first warm, then blistering hot. The poison starts pulling back, retreating from the blade.

 

He breathes hard, muscles shaking, but he doesn’t push me away.

 

When the green glow fades, I pull the blade free. Clean blood pours out, but he’ll heal now.

 

I drop the blade and collapse backward, dizzy and shaking.

 

He stares at me like he’s never seen anything like me.

 

“That wasn’t just the ancient tongue,” he says quietly. “That was ancient healing magic. Lost for centuries.” His eyes narrow. “You’re not just a rejected Luna.”

 

“I’m no one,” I whisper.

 

“No.” His voice softens in a way I didn’t expect. “You’re something else entirely.”

 

He touches my cheek then, gentle, despite blood still dripping from his claws. The moment he does, something sparks. Not a mate bond. Something different. Stranger. Older.

 

My wolf lifts her head fully for the first time since rejection.

 

“What are you doing to me?” I whisper.

 

His silver eyes darken. “Nothing you aren’t doing to me.”

 

My vision blurs. The world tilts. My strength finally gives out.

 

I fall, but he catches me easily, lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing.

 

“Sleep,” he murmurs as he carries me back into the cave. “You’re not dying tonight.”

 

For once, I don’t fight it.

 

Because for the first time since my world fell apart, my wolf is awake.

 

And she’s looking at him.