Rumor had it the Villain King delighted in killing with deliberate slowness—relishing the moment fear bloomed in a man's eyes long before steel ever bit into flesh. They said his fortress was built from black stone and human bones, and those who trespassed never returned intact—if they returned at all.
I believed every word.
Until my shackles clattered to the floor and Kaelreth Noctyre chose not to kill me.
The great iron doors groaned shut behind me, sealing my fate with a sound that echoed through the throne hall like a final breath. Violet flames licked along obsidian walls, their glow casting shadows that writhed and stretched as if alive. The air pressed heavy against my skin—ash, smoke, and ancient magic mingling until it was hard to breathe.
I stood barefoot on the cold stone, my torn white dress hanging loosely from my shoulders. My pulse thundered in my ears, loud enough that I was certain he could hear it.
At the far end of the hall, upon a throne carved from dark marble and something far older, sat the Villain King.
Kaelreth Noctyre did not look like the monster of legend.
He looked like power made flesh—controlled, precise, devastating. Ink-black hair fell carelessly around a sharp, handsome face, his pale skin stark against the darkness of the hall. When his crimson eyes lifted to me, my breath caught painfully in my throat.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
The silence stretched until it became unbearable.
"Kneel," a guard growled behind me.
I didn't.
Not out of defiance—but because my body refused to obey. My legs trembled, but they held, as if something unseen anchored me in place.
Kaelreth's gaze flicked to the guard.
That was all.
The man stiffened, color draining from his face. "Leave us," the king said quietly.
The command carried no threat.
It didn't need one.
The guards retreated at once, boots echoing against stone until the hall fell silent again. Just the hum of magic. Just him. Just me.
This was it.
"You were sent to kill me," Kaelreth said at last.
Not a question.
I swallowed, lifting my chin despite the way my hands shook. "I was meant for sacrifice."
That drew his attention.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting against the armrests of his throne. Power rolled off him in slow, deliberate waves, brushing against my skin like a caress I hadn't asked for.
"A subtle distinction," he murmured. "Tell me your name."
"Elira Ashwyn."
The words felt fragile, exposed in the vastness of the hall.
"Elira," he repeated, his voice low, tasting the sound. Something in his gaze sharpened. "And you know who I am."
"Yes."
"Say it."
Fear tightened around my throat. "Kaelreth Noctyre," I whispered. "The Villain King."
A faint smile touched his lips. "They taught you well."
He stood.
The movement was unhurried, deliberate, each step toward me echoing like a warning.
Every instinct screamed for me to run—but my feet remained rooted to the stone as he closed the distance between us.
Up close, he was overwhelming.
The heat of him brushed against my skin before he ever touched me. Smoke and something electric clung to him, sharp enough to make my pulse jump. He stopped just short of me—close enough that I could feel his breath, warm and steady, against my cheek.
"You don't smell like an assassin," he said softly.
"I'm not."
"Yet they chose you."
"They choose girls like me," I replied, bitterness cutting through the fear. "Girls no one will miss."
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
He lifted a hand.
I flinched.
But instead of striking me down, his fingers brushed my cheek—slow, deliberate—tilting my face upward until I had no choice but to look at him.
The touch burned.
Magic surged violently through the hall, violet flames flaring as the air cracked with power. A gasp tore from my chest as something deep inside me responded—woke—aching and alive beneath his touch.
Kaelreth stilled.
For the first time, surprise crossed his face.
"Interesting," he breathed.
The power collapsed as suddenly as it had risen. My knees weakened, my body swaying, and his hand slid to my waist—steadying me with effortless strength. The contact lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"What did you do to me?" I whispered.
"I did nothing," he said quietly. "You did."
He released me, but the warmth of his touch lingered, a phantom sensation that made my skin prickle.
"No human should answer to my power that way."
"I am human," I insisted.
A soft, dangerous chuckle left him. "No," he said. "You are something else pretending to be human."
My heart pounded painfully. "Then kill me."
The hall went utterly still.
In a blink, he was before me, his fingers closing around my throat—not tight enough to steal my breath, but firm enough to remind me how easily he could. His thumb rested against my pulse, feeling it race beneath his touch.
"You do not command me," he murmured.
I met his gaze anyway, breath shallow. "Isn't that what villains do?"
For a long moment, he studied me.
Then his lips curved—slow, dark, possessive.
"No," he said. "That is what kings do."
His hand slid from my throat to my wrist, fingers wrapping around it with unyielding intent. Heat flared, white-hot and consuming. I cried out as a black-and-silver sigil burned itself into my skin, the pain sharp enough to steal my breath.
When it faded, the mark remained—warm, pulsing, alive.
"What have you done?" I gasped.
"I have bound you to me," he said simply.
Panic surged through me. "You cannot—"
"I can," he interrupted calmly. "And I have."
I stared at the mark, horror coiling with something far more dangerous—something that felt like awareness.
"You were meant to kill me," I whispered.
"But fate," he said, voice dropping, "has given me a weapon."
"I will not be your weapon."
His gaze hardened, possessive and absolute. "You will."
The guards returned at his silent summons.
"Take her to the eastern tower," Kaelreth ordered. "She is under my protection."
Protection.
The word twisted painfully in my chest.
As they led me away, I looked back.
Kaelreth Noctyre watched me go, crimson eyes burning with intent—ownership—promise.
"In a world where villains never claim happy endings," he said softly to the empty hall,
"we will rewrite the story."
The doors slammed shut behind me.
And as I was dragged deeper into the fortress of the Villain King, one terrible truth settled into my bones—
I had not been spared.
I had been claimed.