Chapter 1The offering
The villagers called it an honor.
To Lira, standing barefoot in the snow with her wrists bound by silver-threaded rope, it tasted like **a death sentence**.
"Blessed be the Reaping Moon," chanted Elder Marin, her gnarled fingers tightening around the ceremonial dagger. The blade hovered above Lira's collarbone, catching the light of the dying bonfire. "May your blood appease the Shadowed Prince for another winter."
A gust of wind screamed through the pines. The torches snuffed out.
Darkness swallowed the clearing.
Then—**silence**.
No owls. No rustling leaves. Even Lira's panicked breaths vanished midair.
Her pulse pounded as **he** emerged from the treeline.
The Shadowed Prince moved like a living storm—black cloak billowing, boots crunching frost into the bloodstained earth. When his mercury-colored eyes locked onto hers, Lira's knees threatened to buckle.
*The stories didn't mention his beauty.*
"Late again, Marin." His voice slithered through the dark, velvet-wrapped steel. "Do you *enjoy* testing my patience?"
The elder's dagger clattered to the ground. "M-my lord, the roads were—"
**Crack.**
Marin's body folded like a broken doll.
Lira's scream lodged in her throat as the Prince stepped over the corpse. Up close, he smelled like **snow and spilled wine**.
Cold fingers gripped her chin. "Let's see if this year's offering has a spine."
Every child in Black Hollow knew the rules: *Never speak. Never fight. Die quietly.*
Lira spat in his face.
The forest held its breath.
Then—**laughter**, rich and terrifying.
"**Finally,**" he murmured, thumbing the blood from her split lip. "A sacrifice worth keeping."
The ropes around her wrists dissolved. Before she could react, his arm banded around her waist.
"Wait—!"
Darkness swallowed them whole
