Lightning tore across a deep purple sky, thunder cracking so loud it shook the ground. Elara ran blindly, soaked to the bone, her breath ragged and shallow. The forest—once familiar and comforting—had transformed into something alive, something wrong.
Leaves hissed as if whispering in a language not her own. Roots twisted up from the earth, snagging her steps. And the sky… it wasn't Earth's sky. The moon was massive and pale red, leering through the mist like a bloodshot eye.
"Elara…" a voice whispered inside her head.
She turned. Nothing. No one.
"I'm dreaming," she muttered, clutching her chest. "This has to be a dream."
But the ache in her legs, the sting on her bleeding knee—it all felt far too real.
She stumbled forward, driven by nothing but fear and desperation, until the forest opened. And there it was.
A castle.
Jet-black, towering above the fog. Gothic in design, perched on a cliff like a beast watching over its territory. Its tall windows glowed faintly, flickering with light.
Elara approached slowly, her breath visible in the icy air. She knew it was insane, but staying in that breathing, whispering forest felt far worse.
She pressed her back to the castle wall, creeping toward one of the tall arched windows. Carefully, she peeked inside.
What she saw made her blood freeze.
A throne room.
And dozens—no, hundreds-of wolves. Not ordinary beasts. These were upright. Armored. Their eyes glowed like embers in the dark.
At the center of the room sat a man on a stone throne. Tall. Bare-chested. His brown hair dripped to his shoulders, and a long black cloak fanned out behind him.
He was snarling, furious. Clawed hands slammed against stone.
And then… he stopped.
His hazel eyes narrowed.
He lifted his head.
Sniffed the air.
"…A human's scent," he growled.
The room went still.
The wolves straightened.
Their eyes turned… toward her.
Elara held her breath.
She knew.
She had been found.
Elara stepped back from the window, heart thudding like a war drum in her ears. She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste blood, forcing herself to stay silent.
"What do I do…?" she whispered.
Then the voice rang out again—louder, harsher.
"Find her," the deep voice commanded.
Lucan's voice.
Howls erupted. In seconds, the great doors burst open. Wolves poured out into the night, some on all fours, some walking upright like men. Their glowing eyes pierced the mist as they began to search—sniffing the ground, listening, hunting.
Was Elara panicking?
No.
This was beyond panic. This was primal terror.
She turned and ran—but slipped. Wet roots caught her foot, and she crashed to the earth with a muffled cry. Her knees burned, her hands scraped raw, but she forced herself up. She had to keep going.
She stumbled through the brush, lungs screaming, until she found thick brambles. She ducked behind them, barely breathing. Her hands trembled. Her whole body shivered.
Footsteps. Closer.
She could hear them—branches snapping, grass crushed under the weight. One of them stopped just beyond the thorns. Its breathing was heavy, steady… like a beast waiting to strike.
Elara clamped her hands over her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes.
Not like this.
She couldn't die like this.
Then, when she thought she was moments from death—
A new voice spoke.
"Come out."
She froze.
Slowly, she turned.
He stood just behind her.
Lucan.
Up close, he was even more terrifying. His hazel eyes seemed to cut straight through her, and his bare chest glowed faintly under the moonlight. His presence wasn't just intimidating. It was… unnatural. Ancient.
Lucan raised a hand.
The wolves surrounding her… backed away.
"I can smell your fear," he said calmly. "And I know—you don't belong here."
Elara opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
She could only stare into the eyes of the king of beasts, who had found her…
…and hadn't yet decided whether to spare her or tear her apart.
Elara didn't know how long she stood there, frozen. His eyes were too deep, too sharp—as if he could see through her, unravel every thought she tried to hide.
Lucan took a step forward. Just one, but enough to make Elara instinctively back away.
"You're from another world," he said softly, almost to himself. "Not an ordinary trespasser."
Elara finally found her voice. "W-who are you?"
"I told you," Lucan replied. "I am the King. Everything that lives and breathes in this realm obeys me."
He lifted his hand toward the sky. The forest seemed to react—the wind spiraled, and the fog curled downward as if bowing to his presence.
Elara shivered. Not from the cold… but from a power she had never witnessed before in any creature.
"But I didn't mean to come here," she said, nearly in tears. "I don't even know how I got in. I just… I touched a stone. And—"
Lucan raised an eyebrow. "A stone?"
She nodded. "A black stone. It had a crescent moon carved into it…"
His eyes narrowed. "The gate… it opened. It shouldn't have."
He looked at her—not with anger this time, but something else. Curiosity. Wariness.
"You brought something," he said. "Something this realm responds to. But I don't know what yet."
"I'm just a normal girl," she whispered, hugging herself.
Lucan stepped closer. She didn't run this time. Something in his gaze—cold and wild and alien—kept her rooted in place.
"It is rare for a human to cross the gate without burning," Lucan muttered. "And yet… here you are. Alive. Unscathed."
He inhaled slowly.
"Elara," he said suddenly. "That's your name, isn't it?"
She froze. "How do you know that?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward—closer.
Then, he knelt.
Not out of respect.
He leaned down… and sniffed the air around her.
Elara was paralyzed.
"This scent…" he whispered. "Your blood… it isn't ordinary."
He rose slowly, his expression shifting. No longer furious—now confused. Torn.
"Bring her to the castle," he ordered.
"No! Don't touch me!" Elara screamed as two of the upright wolves stepped forward.
Lucan raised his hand. They stopped.
He looked into her eyes.
"You want answers? Then stay alive long enough for me to find them."
Before she could protest, the world around her dimmed. One of the wolves snapped his fingers—
—and a thick fog swallowed her whole.