5. RATED 18+ INTO THE BEAST CHAMBER!

Shuddering, her ears rang at the sound of the heavy doors shut behind her. One minute, she was standing at the center of the cavernous hall where the crystal broke when pressed into the nook of her neck and the next minute, chains clicked around her wrists like she was some criminal.

She staggered forward as tough hands gripped her elbows, one on each side. The hands pulled hard, it was hurting, and not just guiding her.

The floor beneath her bare feet felt different here. It wasn’t the polished, cool stone in her pack’s court. The floor here was rougher and uneven, made of crushed, packed bones that were grinded and smoothed on the floor. It was a gritty texture that scraped the soles of her feet with each step taken.

Looking down, the dim light from the braziers hung high on the walls glowed on a dark surface.

The surrounding silence was unsettling, unlike minutes ago when someone who her instincts told her was the king growled, shutting up the gasps in the court.

The guards beside her moved with hurried precision, their grip around her tightened. They held their bodies stiffly, pulled tightly like bowstrings, ready to snap into pieces at any given time. Their eyes were fixed ahead, never meeting hers, never looking back towards the closed doors.

She could sense their fear—but fear of whom? They said nothing to her, just dragged her forward. Was it the beast?

The air grew colder around her…it wasn’t normal. It wasn't a natural chill. It was a damp, heavy cold that seemed to press in from the walls.

The fear of having no say made her sick to her stomach. She had gone through a lot in her eighteen years on earth, but never did it occur to her that she would end up as a sex slave to the deadliest beast.

The dusty smell of the hallway changed and was replaced by a deep, earthy smell, like rot and old metal mixed with vinegar or drying blood—whatever it was, it felt deadly. And under it all, a faint, unsettling perfume that she recognized, ash? It felt strange, burnt sugar and something rotten.

She could swear, she perceived it in the court, and the smell alone made her stomach clench.

Suddenly, she felt the presence of a man walking somewhere behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him. It wasn't just knowing he was there, it was a physical sensation.

The pressure in the air… it felt heavy and suffocating, that made it hard to breathe. A cold weight settled between her shoulders, and her skin crawled.

A thought suddenly flashed in her head to flinch, pull free from the guards and run, but she held herself.

The chains on her wrists and ankles jingled softly with each step as the nauseating scent in the air made her eyebrows twitch and her stomach grumble.

They turned a corner, and the corridor changed. The walls there weren't just polished bone. They were… worked. The faces seemed to twist out of the very material, frozen in silent screams or expressions of agony. They weren't carved.

They looked like they had been pressed into the bone while it was still soft, forever trapped. The eyes stared blankly and held points of dark crystal where the pupils should be. The mouths gaped open.

The fuck! It was grotesque, and deeply unsettling. Every face was unique, and the expressions were carefully preserved in moments of suffering.

Were those faces on the wall…traitors? Former slaves? Enemies? His own people? What did they represent? What was their crime?

What was the significance of the crystal shattering? Of his reaction?

She swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that rose in her throat. “Don’t look at them,” a voice inside her head whispered. “Don’t let him see your fear.”

“Was that my own voice in my head—or someone else’s?” she thought.

Those eyes seemed to follow her as she passed. She forced herself to look, and observe. This was the beast’s world. She had to understand it if she was to survive in it.

Her father had sent her to this. She knew her father hated her so much, but she never thought he would trade her as a commodity.

Her tongue stung with a bitter taste, stronger than the metallic tang of the rusted chains on her wrists… it was the bitter taste of betrayal.

“He did this.” The thought came harder this time, like a cold stone in her gut. “Father…you did this to me.”

A faint whimpering sound reached her ears. She tried to listen again but it stopped. Then another began. Like newborns, wounded animals. The sound seemed to weave in and out of her ears, sometimes clearer, sometimes fading into the corridor. Or were they real?

She slowed down her pace, her eyes darting towards the guard, but they showed no sign that they had heard it, their faces were blank.

"Move," one of the guards muttered, his voice rough as he tightened his hand on her elbow.

“This is his kingdom,” the voice in her head said, grimly. “Made of bone. Made of nightmares. Made of pain. Get used to it.”

She increased her pace, though her legs felt heavy. Behind her, she felt the presence again and she shook her head. Don't think about him. The voice said again.

But right now, terror was a living thing inside her, clawing at her ribs, trying to scramble up her throat as every cell in her body screamed at her to run, to fight, to curl into a ball and disappear from this monstrous kingdom.

It was the instinct of a cornered animal, the Lycan drive to flee from their predator. But the Lycan in her was dormant. The years of abuse, of being forced into submission, made it worse and taught her a different kind of survival. To be quiet and observe.

She felt a knot of fear tighten in her chest. It tried to climb up her throat, to make her cry out, but she swallowed it down, took a deep breath, and kept walking.

“They want you to break,” the voice in her head chuckled dryly. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

Her stomach clenched. What the fuck was this place? What had her father sent her to?

Everything about this kingdom was horrifying, and she found herself observing the details despite her fear.

The presence was right behind her now, so close that she could feel the heat of his body through the layers of her simple court dress. The nauseating scent of him filled her nostrils. It was cloying and suffocating. Her body no longer felt like hers, but rather a cage, and her mind was struggling not to be invaded.

"She is... quiet," the voice rumbled behind her, just like the voice in her head when she was undergoing the ritual earlier. “Let’s see how long she can last.”

She hadn’t heard voices in her head before the ritual. It started the moment the crystal shattered. Whatever magic was in that stone, it left something behind.

And, whoever it was that she was feeling his presence, had been observing her.

The rough hands on her arms tensed slightly as they approached another turn. The temperature dropped noticeably, as if they were entering a cold storage or an ancient crypt, biting at her exposed skin.

The guards kept moving, unaware of what was going on with her, their pace faster now.

She kept her gaze fixed ahead of the fortress. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble. Nor would she give him a reaction. Quiet. Yes, I’d remain quiet.

He thinks I am broken. He thinks my father’s betrayal shattered me. She’d let him think that, so it would make her buy time to flee from here…even if she dies at it.

Her mind raced.

Somehow she heard the words echoing faintly in her head. “It is forbidden… She is not prepared…” Prepared for what? For the beast? For the rites? What rites?

Why was she hearing voices in her head? She hasn't been herself since she stepped into the kingdom of Murnokh.

The questions tumbled over each other in her head, trying to make sense of the madness she was plunged into. But there were no answers here, only more horrors that awaited her.

The guards turned and stared at her, then looked back ahead.

Her dormant Lycan instincts suddenly recognized the alpha energy radiating from the presence behind her. It belonged to The Beast King.

It was an instinct warning her to submit, to yield, to appease the dominant beast.

A hard rage knotted in her chest. “You will not break me,” she whispered.

"Careful," one of the guards muttered, his voice strict.

She ignored him, looking around. She realized the walls here were different too. They seemed to absorb sound, and she still felt the same unsettling sense of being watched.

She focused on the feel of the slick stone beneath her feet. Her toes curled slightly, as she walked carefully.

They stopped at a grand entrance, and the rough hands released her, pushing her forward.

The grand door was pushed open, and General Narkkhul and Lady Vythea stepped out.

“Release her from the chains,” Narkhul ordered, his eyes scanning her body.

The guards quickly unlocked the chains, pulling them out of her wrists and ankles, then threw them into a basket.

She took a shallow breath, forcing herself to stand tall as her legs trembled, but she locked her knees. “What’s going on?” her hands dropped and clenched into fists at her sides.

Narkhul didn’t raise his voice. “Abandoned, and still thinks she has a voice. That’s almost funny.” He just looked at her, slow and scornful. “Speak again, and I’ll take your tongue.”

He scoffed.

Vythea took a step, closing the distance between them as her eyes glared at her. Then, she eyed Kaerith, her eyes rolling.

“I’m out of here!” She scoffed, walking out.

Kaerith’s father’s face swam before her eyes. The man who never raised her, or taught her to ride, or taught her the history of our pack. The man who never looked at her with pity. Or was he relieved?… when he announced her fate. You want her, take her. Makes no difference to me. He muttered. She was born wrong.

That was the truth, but there were always other ways. But, he had chosen this. He had chosen himself over her. Her mother would never do that. The rage twisted in her gut because it gave her new owners a chance to talk down on her.

Narkhul’s eyes followed Vythea as she walked away, and when she had disappeared into the hallway, his eyes darted back towards her.

He closed the distance between them. “Go on,” he said, stepping aside. “If you’re lucky, he’ll finish quickly.”

Suddenly, the obsidian door slid sideways into the wall, and they all took a step back apart from her, putting a short distance between themselves and her, and the door. And the beast?

The room was darker than that of the corridors. She couldn’t hear anything, but she felt him. His scent became stronger than ever, like flowers left to rot on a grave.

She stood still, her eyes fixed on the dark opening. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Push her in!” Narkhul’s voice echoed throughout the hallway. “Don’t keep the beast waiting.”

The beast?…the beast king?