ose like blood in the sky. It hung low, red and swollen, casting long shadows through the palace halls. Everything felt wrong. The air itself trembled. Maids moved faster, eyes averted. Servants scurried like mice from room to room, locking doors, muttering prayers. Even the guards seemed on edge-swords drawn without cause, flinching at the rustle of curtains. Dinner ended early. Clarissa complained about the soup and vanished to her tower without waiting for an audience. I stayed behind, pretending to study the carvings on the wall, pretending I wasn't listening. But I was. Every whisper. Every hurried step. Every door that slammed and bolted tight behind it. Something was coming. Or worse-something was already here. By the time the last hallway emptied, the silence felt too loud to ignore. My feet moved before my fear caught up. I slipped from my room barefoot, careful not to let the floor creak beneath me. No guards in sight. No voices. Just the hum of something ancient vibrating through the stone. The East Wing. I didn't know why I went there. Curiosity. Madness. A pull I couldn't name. But I followed it, past the silent kitchens, past the forbidden stairwell, toward the corridor I'd been warned about. Don't go near the East Wing during the full moon, the servant girl had whispered. Not unless you want to see something... beastly. My fingers trembled as I reached the last door. It was old. Thick. Bound in iron that had rusted in places. But it wasn't locked. The handle turned. The room beyond was dark and vast, lit only by shafts of red moonlight through narrow windows. Cold air hit me first-sharp, metallic. Then the sound. Not quite a growl. Not quite human breathing. A mix of both. Labored. Caged. Chains rattled. I stepped in fully-and froze. He was there. Alexander. But not fully. His body was bent in shadow, arms chained to the wall, thick silver restraints biting into his wrists. His coat hung in torn strips from his shoulders, the muscles beneath them straining with every breath. His claws scraped the stone floor like he was holding himself in place by sheer will. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, slick with sweat and something darker. And his eyes-Gods. They glowed, wild and molten, like fire trapped behind flesh. "Alexander..." I whispered. His head snapped up. He saw me. But he didn't speak. Didn't growl. Just stared-like he knew me. Like something inside him recognized something inside me, even through whatever this... change was. I froze, heart hammering, blood roaring in my ears. I should've run. Should've screamed. Instead, I stepped closer. His jaw clenched. His shoulders shook. Still, he didn't move. Then, without warning, the chains rattled-hard. A snarl caught low in his throat. He yanked once, twice-and suddenly, he was free. I barely had time to breathe before he was on me. The air snapped out of my lungs as he lunged. One second I was frozen; the next, I was on my back, pinned to the cold stone floor beneath him. His weight pressed into me-hot, heavy, trembling with restraint. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts. I could feel every inch of him, and yet he still held back. I gasped-part fear, part something that tangled in my chest and wouldn't name itself. His face hovered inches from mine. Breath hot against my mouth. Eyes blazing, feral and focused only on me. His claws were buried in the floor on either side of my head. Not in me. Barely. "You shouldn't be here," he growled, voice rough and wrecked. "I had to know," I whispered, heart hammering so hard I felt it in my teeth. His gaze didn't waver. There was still something in him-human, flickering just beneath the surface. But it was fighting to stay. "You don't know what I am." "I'm starting to." A guttural sound escaped him-half laugh, half something broken. His forehead dipped low, nearly brushing mine. I didn't flinch. Couldn't. "You should run," he said, breath ragged. "Now." "What... what are you?" I asked, throat tight. He shut his eyes. A beat passed. Then two. He opened them again-glowing, wild, filled with something between shame and warning. "You shouldn't have seen this." "I needed to." "The curse," I said, voice unsteady. "It's real." He didn't move. But the way his arms shook told me how hard he was fighting it. "You're afraid," he said roughly. "No," I whispered. He stared. "...Maybe a little," I admitted. "But I'm still here." He exhaled shakily, like the weight of that meant something. "When the moon's full, I lose pieces of myself. I fight it. But it claws through anyway." "A monster," I murmured. He didn't deny it. I shifted beneath him, not away-just enough to look directly into his face. "Does anyone else know?" He hesitated. Then, quietly: "Only the ones who didn't live long enough to tell anyone." My stomach turned. Every instinct screamed at me to run. But I didn't move. His whole body trembled over mine now, chains dragging tighter behind him. "Don't tell them," he said, voice hoarse. "Please." "I won't." "Swear it." "I said I won't," I repeated, firmer this time. His fingers twitched in the stone. "Go. Now," he breathed, desperation leaking through his control. "I can't hold this much longer." Still, I didn't move. "Marianne-go!" The sound of my name cracked something inside me. I scrambled out from under him, heart pounding, and pulled the door shut with shaking hands. Outside, I pressed my back to the wall, breathing in shallow gulps. I couldn't stop shaking. I didn't remember walking back to my room. I barely remembered the halls. Just heat. Chains. His eyes. I didn't sleep that night. Not with the feel of his body still burned into mine. Not with the memory of his voice begging me to leave. Not with the terrifying truth that I almost didn't.