The air around Viktor and Damien grew thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved through the dense forest, each step echoing the growing urgency in their hearts. The trees seemed to close in on them as if nature itself was pushing them away, the path narrowing as they approached Alaric's manor. The sickly, unnatural glow that pulsed in the distance had begun to stretch across the forest like a dark web, tainting everything it touched. The haunting stillness of the night was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. It was as though even the forest knew the gravity of what was to come.
"Alaric's power is like a shadow," Viktor murmured, his voice low and strained. "It seeps into everything. Into her... and into us." His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, but his gaze remained fixed on the flickering light ahead. He wasn't looking at Damien, but Damien could feel the weight of his words.
"Then let's burn that shadow down," Damien growled, his jaw clenched. He kept his eyes trained on the path, sensing the growing darkness. His instincts told him they were getting closer, but so was the danger. "Isabella doesn't belong to him. She doesn't even know what she's walking into."
Viktor's face tightened, his brows furrowed with guilt. "If only it were that simple, Damien." He paused for a moment, as though weighing something heavy in his heart. "I never meant for her to fall into this... I kept things from her to protect her. And now, she may never forgive me."
Damien stopped, turning to face Viktor. His eyes were filled with empathy but also burning frustration. "You were trying to protect her by keeping her in the dark. But now, she's slipping away, and we can't wait for her to wake up and see what Alaric's doing to her. She needs us—now."
The words hung in the air, sharp and painful. Viktor took a deep breath, nodding slowly, but his gaze hardened as they neared the manor. "We move quickly. No matter what, we have to save her from this."
---
Inside Alaric's Manor
The vast hall of Alaric's manor loomed before Isabella, stretching high into the shadows. The torchlight flickered off the cold stone walls, casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to move on their own. Alaric was standing in front of her, his presence heavy and suffocating, like a serpent coiling around her, tightening with every word he spoke.
"Embrace it," Alaric whispered, his cold voice winding through her mind like a song she couldn't escape. "This is who you are, Isabella. The heir to a throne you've forgotten. You are Victoria, reborn, and you have been chosen for this destiny."
Isabella felt something stir deep inside her—something old and primal, something that had been dormant for centuries. But it was also frightening. A part of her recognized the truth in Alaric's words, but another part of her—a part tied to the memories of Viktor, of love and warmth—fought back.
"You're not like him," Alaric continued, stepping closer to her, his eyes glowing with an almost predatory intensity. "Viktor has kept you in the dark, trapped in your memories. He fears what you'll become, what you were always meant to be. But I offer you power—freedom."
A shiver ran down her spine as Alaric's fingers brushed the side of her face, cold as ice. The warmth that had once radiated from Viktor's touch seemed like a distant memory. The allure of power, of being something greater, stronger, filled her senses.
"No…" Isabella whispered, though the word felt foreign on her tongue. She wanted to fight, to resist, but there was a darkness swirling in her mind—a force that whispered to her, promising her everything she'd ever wanted.
"You don't need him anymore," Alaric said, his voice a soothing balm over her doubts. "You need me."
---
The Confrontation
Suddenly, the door to the manor crashed open with a deafening bang. The sound sent a shockwave through Isabella's senses, snapping her out of her trance—if only for a moment. She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing just enough to see Viktor and Damien standing in the doorway, their eyes wild with fear and determination.
"Isabella!" Viktor shouted, his voice thick with emotion as he crossed the threshold. "Don't listen to him!"
Alaric's eyes flashed with a cold, knowing smile as he stepped in front of Isabella. "Too late, Viktor. She's already mine."
Viktor's jaw clenched, his fists curling into tight balls of fury. "Isabella!" he called again, taking a step toward her, his voice hoarse. "You don't have to do this. You're stronger than this."
Isabella felt the strange force inside her flare up, a pull toward Alaric, but her heart—her real heart—screamed out for Viktor. She took a shaky step back, her eyes locking with Viktor's. "I… I can't remember…" Her voice trembled. "What's real?"
Alaric's voice was smooth, almost seductive as he spoke. "What's real is that you were always meant to be more than you've ever known, Isabella. I can show you the truth."
Before Viktor could move, Alaric raised his hand, and the air around them seemed to twist. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the hall, knocking Viktor backward with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. Damien lunged at Alaric, but the scholar moved with unnatural speed, his fingers curling around Damien's throat and sending him crashing into a nearby pillar.
"Damien!" Viktor shouted, pushing himself back to his feet.
But it wasn't Alaric that Viktor feared. It was Isabella. She stood there, unmoving, her gaze fixed on him—but the warmth he had once seen there, the love and the trust, seemed to be fading. She was becoming someone else.
"Isabella," Viktor pleaded, taking another step toward her, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "This isn't you. This isn't what you were meant for. You were meant to be free."
Alaric turned to face Viktor, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You were too weak to see it, Viktor. Too afraid to let her see the truth."
Viktor's heart hammered in his chest as Isabella took a step closer to Alaric. The last shred of hope he had seemed to crumble, but then, she stopped. Her head tilted slightly, as if she were hearing something distant—something that only she could hear.
Isabella's voice was barely above a whisper. "Viktor… I… don't want this."
The air seemed to freeze. Alaric's eyes widened in disbelief, his grip tightening. "No, Isabella. You are mine!"
But something in Isabella's gaze shifted. A flicker of her old self—of Victoria—surfaced, her memories of the past colliding with the present. Her body trembled, as if fighting the darkness within.
"Leave him alone!" she screamed, her voice breaking through the haze, but Alaric's influence was too strong. His eyes burned with fury as he reached out to pull her back.
Viktor and Damien rushed forward in unison, but they were met with a wave of dark energy that sent them sprawling once again. Alaric's laughter filled the hall, sharp and mocking.
"This is the end, Viktor. You should have known. She was never meant for you."