---
Natalia stood in the dimly lit training hall, her breath steady but her muscles tense. Across from her, Clarke moved with effortless grace, his every motion fluid, calculated. The faint glow of the lanterns flickered against his sharp features, making his fangs glint like polished ivory.
"Again," Clarke instructed, his voice firm yet patient. "You're hesitating. Focus on your footing—be light, like a ghost."
Natalia exhaled slowly and launched into the sequence again. Step, pivot, strike. But her body felt sluggish, her feet clumsy against the stone floor. Her frustration grew as she miscalculated a movement and stumbled forward.
"I'm trying," she muttered, irritation creeping into her tone.
Clarke caught her by the elbow, steadying her with ease. "Easy," he murmured. "You're thinking too much. Let your body react."
She gave a small nod, forcing herself to relax. Another breath in. Another breath out. She prepared to try again when—
Snarls. Deep, guttural, and too close.
Natalia's breath hitched.
That sound....
It was the same one from her nightmare—the same growls, the same chilling presence lurking just beyond her reach. Her fingers curled into fists.
Clarke's gaze snapped to the door, his expression darkening. "Stay behind me," he ordered.
Before she could protest, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as his body tensed, preparing for whatever lurked beyond the door.
---
Natalia's heart skipped a beat as the door slammed open.
A tall, lean figure strode inside, his movements smooth, effortless—like a predator walking into familiar territory. His piercing yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light, scanning the room with quiet confidence. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, dark hair that fell in careless waves—he looked both refined and untamed at once.
His attire, however, was immaculate, peculiar rather.
A crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the toned muscles underneath, and black pants tailored to perfection. A contradiction. A man who looked like he belonged at a royal banquet, yet carried himself like he had just emerged from the wild.
Clarke's grip on Natalia's waist tightened, his posture shifting defensively.
The stranger slipped his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable. "Uh, Yo," he said, voice smooth, effortless.
Clarke didn't relax. "Who are you?" His tone was low, edged with suspicion.
The stranger tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze.
"Rather, what do you want?" Clarke added, baring his fangs.
At that, the stranger's gaze snapped to Clarke.
The amusement vanished, replaced by something colder.
"The name's Neil," he said, voice as silken and smooth as a blade's edge.
"And I'm here on a matter of great importance."
Neil's eyes locked onto Clarke's, a silent challenge buried within them. He wasn't just some messenger, some lost traveler. He carried himself like someone used to standing in enemy territory without fear.
Clarke didn't back down. "What may that be?"
Neil exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Nothing you should concern yourself with. You don't look like you'd have the answers I need."
He turned, moving toward the door—but froze when Clarke scoffed.
"You've crossed boundaries, wolf" Clarke sneered.
"It won't take long before you're found and eaten."
A sharp silence settled over the room.
Neil's shoulders tensed. He turned back slowly and deliberately .
His once-neutral expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing behind those unnatural yellow eyes.
"Wolf?" he repeated, voice low, almost amused—but there was an edge to it, a warning.
Natalia's breath caught.
Neil took a step closer. Then another. And another.
His presence suddenly felt too large for the space, as if the very air around him had thickened.
"Careful how you use that word, vampire," he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly.
"You might be mislabeling something you don't understand."
Clarke held his ground, but Natalia could feel his grip on her tighten just slightly.
Neil smirked. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned and walked away, leaving behind an air of unease that refused to fade.
---
Natalia stepped out from behind Clarke, her breath shallow, heart pounding. The air in the room felt different now.
Charged.
Heavy.
The lingering scent of something unfamiliar clung to her skin—wild, earthy, unnatural.
Her lips parted, but she didn't know what to say.
Clarke, however, had no hesitation. His sharp gaze darted toward the door, his entire body humming with urgency. "We need to leave. Now."
Natalia barely registered his words. Her hands were clammy, her mind clouded. The nightmare. The snarls. The eyes.
It had felt so real.
And now… now that thing had walked into her reality.
She forced herself to move, to think. "Clarke… I—"
"No time," he cut in. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her forward, but her feet stayed rooted.
"Wait." Natalia's voice trembled, her pulse hammering against her ribs. "I— I saw him before, he's not a wolf Clarke"
Clarke froze, eyes snapping to hers.
Natalia swallowed. "In a dream. A nightmare. I don't know, but…those eyes—"
Clarke's grip tightened.
"Not now, Princess," he hissed. "We don't have time for one of your dreams. We need to move."
His words cut through her like a blade.
It was the same thing—every time.
No one ever listened.
But this was different. It had to be.
"I think—"
A distant, guttural howl split the night, shattering whatever protest she had left.
Clarke swore under his breath.
His hold on her wrist became unrelenting as he yanked her toward the door.
"Hop on," he ordered, leading her toward the waiting stallion outside.
Natalia's mouth opened. Then closed.
She had no choice but to obey.
---
In a flash, Clarke swung himself onto the black stallion's back, gripping the reins with ease.
Natalia barely had time to react before Clarke yanked her up in front of him, his arms caging her in as he spurred the horse forward.
The stallion reared up with a powerful whinny, then took off, hooves striking the ground like thunder.
The night blurred around them—a rush of wind, moonlight, and shadow. Natalia felt the powerful muscles of the beast beneath her, the rhythmic pounding of its hooves like a drum against her chest.
She clutched onto Clarke's arms, her heart hammering. Too fast. Too wild. Too much.
"Relax," Clarke murmured against her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "You're safe with me."
She wanted to believe him.
The palace walls loomed ahead—tall, imposing, inescapable. But Clarke didn't slow.
With a mighty push, the horse leapt.
For a heartbeat, they were weightless. Suspended between earth and sky. A moment of perfect silence.
Then—impact. The stallion landed on the other side of the wall with fluid grace, barely breaking stride.
Natalia exhaled sharply, her hands still fisting Clarke's sleeves.
Before she could recover, they were already slowing, approaching the shadowed side of the palace.
Clarke pulled the reins, guiding the horse into a quiet stop beneath her balcony. With one fluid motion, he slid off the saddle and reached up, lifting Natalia down as if she weighed nothing.
Her feet touched the cold stone of the courtyard, but she didn't move. Her pulse was still racing, her hands still tingling.
"Go," Clarke urged softly. His eyes—sharp blood red—locked onto hers. "Before anyone sees."
Natalia hesitated.
"Clarke, I—"
A pause. A breath.
Clarke, always unreadable, gave her a small, lopsided smile. Then, without warning, he lifted her hand and pressed a slow kiss against her knuckles.
Natalia's chest tightened.
"Anytime, Princess," he murmured.
And with that, he turned, melting into the night before she could even whisper a goodbye.
---
Natalia stood frozen, her skin still tingling where his lips had touched her hand.
Then the cold set in.
Move.
She turned sharply, shaking the thoughts from her head. She had to get inside before anyone noticed.
Her fingers gripped the rough stone of the palace wall, her body moving on instinct. She had done this before, scaling the cold, unforgiving surface like a shadow in the night.
By the time she reached her window, her breath was uneven. She swung a leg over the ledge, slipped inside, and pressed her back against the wall.
Her chest rose and fell as she stared into the darkness of her room, watching the fire torches dance from the faint breeze.
---
Natalia hurriedly shut her window, her breath still unsteady. The curtains billowed inward, the cool night air licking at her skin as she turned to change.
But she had barely taken a step when—
BANG!
Her door slammed open, crashing against the wall with enough force to make her jump.
Tatiana stumbled inside, her chest heaving like she had sprinted across the palace. Her piercing eyes raked over Natalia, scanning her up and down before narrowing in suspicion.
"What are you wearing?" Tatiana's voice was tight, breathless, urgent—but her gaze wasn't just judging Natalia's appearance. She was searching for answers.
Natalia's stomach dropped.
She glanced down at herself, her mind scrambling for an excuse.
Her training clothes—a black, form-fitting tunic, sleeveless and cut for movement, with matching leggings tucked into scuffed leather boots—were a dead giveaway.
Stray bits of dust and grass clung to the fabric, clear evidence that she had been somewhere she shouldn't have.
"I, uh..." Natalia swallowed. "I was just...practicing a new dance routine."
Tatiana didn't even blink.
" Whatever." She grabbed Natalia's *wrist* and *yanked her forward*, her grip *tight*. "We need to go. Now."
Natalia barely had time to react before Tatiana dragged her out of the room. Why's everyone suddenly in a haste?
"To where?" she gasped, stumbling to keep up.
Then she heard it.
A deep, guttural roar echoing through the palace halls.
Snarling.
Furniture crashing.
Natalia's heart lurched, her breath catching as Tatiana yanked her forward, both of them racing down the dimly lit corridors.
With every step, the chaos grew louder—like the palace itself was under siege.
Natalia's pulse thundered in her ears, her mind racing with questions.
What was happening?
Where were they going?
And—most terrifying of all—who had made those sounds?
---
They burst through a doorway, the heavy wooden doors groaning on their hinges.
Natalia stumbled, her boots slipping against cold stone, and suddenly, they were descending—a narrow staircase, spiraling downward.
With every step, the air grew colder. Darker. Heavier.
Natalia's breath hitched, her mind a storm of questions. The distant sounds of snarling and crashing echoed behind them, but something about it felt...off.
She yelled over the noise, her voice bouncing off the stone walls.
"Where are we going?!"
Tatiana's grip tightened, her nails digging into Natalia's wrist.
"We're under attack!" she shouted back. " And those—" she hesitated, her breath ragged, "those aren't wolves."
Natalia's stomach twisted.
Not wolves?
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps as she struggled to keep up.
"I don't understand!" she yelled, her voice frantic, but Tatiana didn't answer. She just pulled her faster.
As they raced through the dark corridors, Natalia's mind flashed back—to the mysterious guy from earlier.
Neil.
Those piercing yellow eyes, his calm arrogance, the way he had looked at her and Clarke like they were nothing but insects beneath his notice.
Could he have something to do with this?
She didn't have time to dwell on it. The halls blurred past them until, at last, Tatiana dragged her into a cramped, dimly lit chamber, deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the palace.
The air was thick—with sweat, with fear.
Natalia's eyes darted around. Guards. Maids.
And Olga.
But Olga wasn't cowering.
She was struggling, thrashing against the guards holding her back. Her face was twisted in fury, her teeth bared.
"Let me GO!" she hissed.
Natalia barely registered her sister's rage.
A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Her lungs clenched. Her hands trembled.
She could still hear the snarling outside, echoing in her skull like a distant nightmare, growing louder, like—like—
A choked breath escaped her lips.
Her legs buckled, and she slid down against the cold wall, curling in on herself.
Her hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp as she squeezed her eyes shut.
"This isn't real. This isn't real," she muttered under her breath, but the sounds, the chaos—it was real.
And she couldn't breathe.
Tatiana barely spared her a glance, but she muttered, "Get yourself together, Natalia."
Natalia clenched her jaw.
She wanted to. She needed to.
But the walls were closing in, and she wasn't sure if she could.
---
Nowhere is Safe
The guards held Olga firm, their faces set in grim determination as she continued to thrash against their grip.
Her chest heaved, her eyes wild with defiance.
Tatiana's heart clenched.
She wanted to help Olga, to reassure her, but deep down, she knew—Olga wasn't trained for battle like Anastasia was.
None of them were.
Tatiana swallowed hard, shoving the thought away.
Instead, she gripped Natalia's shoulders, pushing her toward the group with more force than necessary.
"Stay here," she ordered, her voice sharp and unwavering. "We'll be safe here."
But Natalia barely heard her.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything but the raging storm of battle beyond the walls.
Safe?
There was no safe place in the palace tonight.
Outside, the sounds of war tore through the night—the clash of steel, the sickening crunch of bones, the inhuman snarls of creatures she didn't even want to picture.
Downstairs, Clarke, Anastasia, Nikolai, and their parents were fighting for their lives.
And here they were. Hiding.
Trapped in a cramped, chamber deep beneath the palace.
---
Tatiana had been the first to notice the chaos, the first to act, and that was the only reason Natalia and Olga were still standing.
But for how long?
Natalia shivered, her breath unsteady.
Because no matter how many times she told herself otherwise, she knew the truth.
This place wasn't a refuge at all.
---
Just as the tension reached its peak, a sound shattered the air—a slow, deliberate rattle of the doorknob.
Natalia's breath hitched.
Her body went rigid.
Then—
BOOM!
The door exploded inward, shards of wood and thick clouds of dust flying in every direction.
The impact sent a deafening crack through the room, and the walls shuddered from the force.
Natalia threw her hands over her head, her ears ringing.
And through the swirling debris—a shadow emerged.
A hulking figure stepped over the wreckage, moving with terrifying grace despite its massive frame.
Not a man. Not a wolf. Not a vampire.
It was just like in her dream.
The creature stood on two legs, its body a mass of rippled muscle and sinew, its presence filling the entire doorway. Its fur was dark
as the abyss, coarse and matted, shifting like liquid shadow under the flickering torchlight.
Its eyes—glowing, piercing, a molten gold that seemed to burn straight through her soul.
And then… it smiled like a crack on the wall.
A slow, deliberate baring of fangs, its jaw far too wide, filled with rows of jagged teeth meant to tear, meant to devour..
Maybe this is the end?...who knows