Chapter Six: The Throne of Shadows

Nikita's POV

The grand hall felt particularly cold today. An icy breath exhaled from its stone walls. A heavy silence weighed on me as I approached Father's throne, my steps echoing in a morose symphony. Taking my seat on the grand, leather-bound chair, the memories of my cruel yet loving father resurfaced, conflicting emotions waging war inside me. I never thought I’d sit here with him gone, but now, with the title of Luna of Death, responsibility had chained me to this throne.

After a few minutes, the grand doors creaked open, and the hall began to fill. Pack members trickled in, their eyes avoiding mine, their whispers scarcely audible but undoubtedly about me. I sat still, staring blankly at the growing crowd. The soft murmurs increased but remained out of earshot, each word a reminder of the isolation my curse guaranteed.

People approached, offering their condolences. "I'm so sorry, Nikita," one of the elders said. I nodded absently, their voices blending into a meaningless hum. Their apologies felt hollow, mere echoes in the cavern of my current reality.

The minutes turned into an agonising eternity. The stifling air and the oppressive sorrow became unbearable. I could feel the marks on my skin, each one pulsating with the memory of a life taken. I had to get out.

With a determined breath, I pushed myself up and began to slip out of the room. My steps quickened as I neared the door, each stride feeling like a rebellious act against my fate. But just as I reached for the handle, a voice emerged from behind me, stopping me cold.

"It's unheard of for a daughter to be the first to leave her father's funeral."

I turned sharply, my eyes narrowing as they locked onto Rykor. His presence felt oddly defiant, a beacon of unsolicited resistance. His stance was confident, almost taunting. "There are a lot of unheard-of things in this kingdom. And it would be wise to mind your own business." I retorted coldly.

Unfazed, Rykor stepped closer. His presence was impossibly calm yet potent. His eyes bore into mine, and unlike the others, they held no fear. "You’re smaller than I thought you'd be," he said, studying me as if I were a puzzle to be solved. "I expected some big, scary creature, not a small, weak girl."

Anger flared within me, but it was quickly extinguished by a gnawing curiosity. No one had dared to speak to me this way, not since my curse had manifested. "Looks are deceiving, Rykor. Even the smallest of creatures can be the deadliest," I replied, my voice carrying a dangerous undertone.

He smirked, stepping even closer. "I'm aware." His eyes flicked toward my hands for a split second, filled with stories untold and lives ended. His courage fascinated me and stirred something deep inside my icy exterior.

“What do you want?” I demanded, crossing my arms to keep my hands firmly away from him. But my curiosity gnawed at me—what did he want from this encounter?

Rykor’s eyes softened slightly, and there was a discernible and unexpected empathy in his gaze. "I just came to pay my respects and maybe to see if the Luna of Death was truly as terrifying as the stories say."

I scoffed, turning my back on him. "Believe what you want."

As I moved to exit again, his voice called out, “Do you feel nothing for the death of your father? Are you really that much of a monster?.” I could hear his voice getting closer to me. “You should be in pain, a bound and a strong one at that has been broken.”

Looking at him out of the corner of my eye. “I feel no bonds”. My voice held with no emotions at all. I didn't wait for him to answer. Pushing open the door, I left him standing there, confused with my words.