Chapter 5 Mark of chains

The chains were gone, but Celestine still felt them. She sat at the edge of the ornate bed, her wrists resting against her lap, phantom pain pulsing through them. The golden cuffs had been removed days ago, yet the sensation of cold metal remained, a cruel reminder that freedom was just an illusion. She traced her fingers along the bruises on her skin-faint, but still there. Proof of what she had been.

What she still was. A slave. She exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away.

The grand chamber around her was too beautiful, too opulent, too deceiving. Silken drapes billowed from the ceiling, golden candlelight flickered against marbled walls, and an intoxicating floral scent lingered in the air. Everything about this place was designed to comfort. To make her believe she was safe.

But Celestine knew better. She had spent her entire life in cages-some made of iron, some of silk. This one was no different. A knock echoed through the room. Soft. Polite. Yet there was an undeniable weight behind it. Celestine didn't move. The door opened anyway.Lucien stepped inside.His presence filled the space instantly-tall, commanding, his golden eyes sharp with observation. He wasn't a man who needed permission to enter a room; he took up space as if the world had already given it to him.Celestine tensed.

"You didn't answer," Lucien noted, his voice smooth, as if he weren't intruding."I didn't feel like talking." Lucien tilted his head slightly, studying her. "And yet, here I am." Celestine clenched her jaw. Lucien sighed, stepping closer. "You haven't left this room in three days." She looked away. "Because I don't belong here."

Lucien didn't argue. He simply sat in the chair across from her, folding his hands. "And where do you think you belong?"

The answer burned on her tongue, but she refused to say it. Because the truth was, she didn't know.She had spent years in chains. Years being told where she belonged-who she belonged to. Now, she had no master, no orders, no collar around her throat. And yet, she still felt owned. Lucien leaned forward slightly. "He's coming, you know .Celestine's breath hitched. She didn't have to ask who he was.The air in the room felt heavier now, as if even speaking of Valerian's name would summon him.Lucien watched her reaction carefully. "You can feel it, can't you?"

Celestine swallowed, her pulse uneven. She could.For days now, she had felt an invisible pull, a presence pressing against the edges of her mind. It was subtle, like the whisper of a forgotten dream. But it was there. A reminder that she was not free.That she had never truly escaped him.Lucien sighed, rubbing his temple. "You have a choice, Celestine." She laughed bitterly. "No, I don't."Lucien's gaze darkened slightly. "You always have a choice. You just don't like either option."Celestine gritted her teeth. "And what are my options, Lucien?" Lucien leaned back, watching her carefully. "Run. Again." Her stomach twisted Or She knew the second option without him saying it.Stay.Stay and face what was coming.Stay and face him.Celestine looked away, her throat tightening.She had run for years.But deep down, she had always known She couldn't run forever.

Celestine gripped the sheets beneath her, fingers twisting into the soft fabric. "Running was the only thing I could do," she murmured.

Lucien didn't look convinced. "And where did it get you?" She exhaled sharply, her gaze flickering toward the massive windows on the far side of the room. The night stretched endlessly beyond them, the moon casting pale light over the city below. "Far away from him," she said. Lucien hummed, leaning back against the chair. "And yet, he still found you." A shiver crawled down her spine. She hated how easily Lucien cut through her defenses. He had always been like this-too perceptive, too calm, too infuriatingly right. "He hasn't found me yet," she muttered. Lucien tilted his head. "But he will." Celestine squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She knew. She had always known. The bond between them had never truly broken. Even in death, even in her rebirth, she could feel it lingering-like an invisible chain, coiled around her soul.No matter how far she ran, Valerian would always pull her back. Lucien sighed, shifting slightly. "I can help you, Celestine. But you have to let me." Her eyes snapped to his.

"Help me?" She let out a bitter laugh. "No one can help me, Lucien. Not you. Not anyone."

Lucien's gaze darkened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled something out. A dagger.Celestine's breath caught as the candlelight glinted off the blade. A familiar blade.Her fingers twitched involuntarily. She had held that dagger before. She had used it before. The memories surged forward in a flood-blood-stained silk, the scent of incense and iron, the weight of the weapon in her hands as she stood before Valerian. "Do it, Celestine." His voice had been so steady that night, so certain. "Kill me. But know that you will never escape me." She had plunged the dagger into his chest. Watched the blood spill. Felt his fingers brush against her cheek one last time. Lucien's voice dragged her back to the present. "You should take it," he said quietly. "You might need it soon." Celestine swallowed hard. Her fingers hesitated, but in the end, she reached out. The cold metal settled into her palm, heavy with the weight of everything it meant. She traced her thumb along the hilt, the intricate markings carved into it as familiar as her own scars. This dagger had ended Valerian's life once. But had it truly ended him? Her grip tightened. She wanted to believe she could do it again. That she would be strong enough. But something deep inside her whispered otherwise. Lucien watched her carefully. "He's not the same man you killed, Celestine." Her jaw clenched. "And what does that mean?" Lucien exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "It means death changed him." A sharp chill ran through her veins. Lucien never spoke in riddles. He never exaggerated. So if he was saying this, it meant something was coming. Something worse. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Lucien leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. "You felt it, didn't you?" Celestine's breath hitched. Yes. Yes, she hadFor days now, a presence had been pressing against her mind, faint but persistent. It wasn't just a memory. It wasn't just paranoia. It was him. He was coming. Lucien held her gaze, his golden eyes sharp with warning. "This time, he won't let you go. Celestine's chest tightened.She had fought so hard.Run so far. But it had never mattered, had it? She had never been free. And now, the man she had killed was returning. Not just to claim her. But to remind her of the truth she had spent lifetimes trying to deny.She had never truly belonged to herself. She had always belonged to him.