Page 5 of Tethered In Blood

The castle walls loomed high. Its white stone glistened under the feeble light in a stark contrast against the night sky. The architecture featured intricate turrets that towered over arched windows, flickering with the faint glow of torchlight. A grand crest adorned the façade above the main entrance, a symbol of power carved into the bones of the structure.

Lanterns lined the pathway. Their golden light flickered against the snowfall drifting by. Banners hung from the stone, their edges stiff with frost, and the sigils embroidered upon them dimmed in the soft glow. With each step, I ventured deeper into something vast and unshakable. The prestige of the castle and the history embedded in its walls swayed me.

My attention shifted to a faint trickle of water flowing over smooth rocks in the first corridor. Floral and rich scents, inappropriate for castle halls that should smell only of cold stone and burning torches, filled the air. Their insistence curled around me, guiding my steps.

The corridor led to a series of archways, their stone filigreed with ivy. The tendrils stretched along the columns as if reaching for the sky. A garden bathed in moonlight rested beyond them. The night’s silver glow poured in from above and illuminated the space in a way that made it seem untouched by time. It should have been barren, stripped of life by the frost.

Frostflies drifted lazily through the air, their wings pulsing in shifting shades of blue, gold, and violet- embers stolen from a dying star. They fluttered between blooms of flowers I had never encountered before. The petals curled in strange, intricate formations, their colors both unnatural and mesmerizing. Roses, dark as wine and tipped with silver frost, climbed the walls and wrapped around the pillars, their thorns gleaming in the faint light.

In the heart of the garden stood a willow tree that whispered in the breeze, its branches draping low. Beneath it, nestled in a bed of moss and pale winter blossoms, sat a birdbath of polished stone. Its basin rippled with liquid moonlight. I stepped forward, drawn by the unspoken secrets.

Aurelith’s courts may have condemned magic, but within these walls, it breathed.

My fingers grazed the cool stone of the archway while I basked in the sight before me. Every instinct I had—to look, touch, learn—pulled me forward, deeper into the garden’s embrace. But reason whispered its warnings: I wasn’t yet official here, not yet safe. In a place where magic endured despite its ban, touching the wrong object could lead to unforeseen consequences I couldn’t manage.

Still, the ache to understand burned in me.

Glancing around, I scanned the shadowy corridors and searched for any sign of movement. The castle had been quiet thus far, but that didn’t mean unseen eyes weren’t watching. Confident in my solitude, I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply.

Layered and intricate scents filled the air. Damp soil, dewy petals, and the crisp bite of frost nipped at the edges. The rich, dark rose perfume mingled with the peculiar, sweet scent of flowers I couldn’t name. The water in the birdbath held a faint mineral tang, and its rippling surface sang softly in the wind. And magic dwelled there, humming beneath it all, not in the manner of spells or raw power but in a more profound way, woven into the roots of the place. I dissected each aroma and sound, cataloging them.

One could forget the outside world here.

With reluctance, I opened my eyes and compelled myself to return to the present.

My time to comprehend this garden would come, but not tonight.

“Dilthen Doe.”

The deep, commanding voice echoed through the corridors. Each syllable bled into my skin, felt rather than heard. My breath caught when the figure emerged from the shadows. The torchlight flickered against black armor gilded with intricate etchings. The dim glow of gold veins ran through the obsidian plates, signifying more than just armor. It stood as a statement, a warning, a legacy carved in steel.

His helmet bore horns that weren’t ornamental nor for spectacle. Purposeful and thoughtful carvings framed him, a creature forged in battle, not merely a soldier in its service.

I had met powerful men who sought to own, control, and break others. But he was different. There was no pretense of civility and no need for manipulation.

This man didn’t go to war; hewasthe war. He didn’t need to seize power; it yielded to him.

His intense gaze fixed on me, and my grip tightened around my journal at my front. He carried an air about him, like the moment before a storm, when the air pulsated with unseen energy, poised to break.

I had been cautious. I had touched nothing. I had broken no rules. Yet, the air grew charged with inescapable tension.

One thing was sure: I wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I presume the guards allowed you entry,” he said, smoother now but no less fierce. “State your purpose.”

I swallowed and turned to face him fully. “I am seeking the herbalist position,” I said, lifting my chin to feign confidence. “I was instructed to visit the infirmary.”

A sharp huff echoed from behind his dark helmet, little more than a breath but loaded with meaning—judgment, displeasure, or perhaps simple impatience. For a moment, he said nothing, remaining unreadable until he spun around with the effortless authority he possessed in his solitary presence. “Follow me.”

I blinked.

His strides were steady yet swift. His armor produced no extraneous noise, only the subtle sound of metal shifting as he moved.

“Oh.” The word slipped out while I adjusted my grip on my satchel before rushing to keep up. He turned a corner, never looking back to see if I was following, as if he knew I would. I hurried to catch up to him. The stone walls closed in around us, and the scents of the strange moonlit garden faded as I was drawn deeper into the castle’s embrace.

3

Oberon

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