Bound by the Dark Prince

The night was unnaturally silent.

Evelyn clutched her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she made her way through the dense forest, the moon barely piercing through the thick canopy above. She had heard the warnings—the whispers in the village of the cursed lands beyond the river, the tales of those who had wandered too far and never returned. But she had no choice. If she wanted answers, if she wanted to escape the life that had been forced upon her, she had to take the risk.

A cold wind swept through the trees, making the branches groan like ancient beings awakening from slumber. The further she walked, the heavier the air became, thick with something unseen yet oppressive. Her breath hitched as a distant howl echoed through the night. Wolves? Or something worse?

A shiver ran down her spine, but she pressed forward, her boots sinking into the damp earth with every step. She reached a clearing where the grass was oddly withered, as if life itself had abandoned this place. At the center stood an archway of jagged black stone, covered in ancient runes that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow. The gateway to the forgotten kingdom.

Her heart pounded. This was it. The point of no return.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, a surge of energy shot through her veins, burning and freezing all at once. She gasped, her body convulsing as dark tendrils of magic wrapped around her wrist, forming an intricate, glowing mark.

A Mark of Shadows.

The pain faded as quickly as it came, but the mark remained, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. Panic surged through her, but before she could react, the air shifted.

A presence.

She wasn't alone.

From the darkness beyond the archway, a figure emerged. Tall, imposing, with eyes like molten silver that gleamed even in the shadows. His dark hair cascaded over his broad shoulders, and his regal, obsidian cloak moved as if it were alive. There was an undeniable power in the way he carried himself, a quiet authority that sent a thrill of both fear and intrigue through her.

The Dark Prince.

His gaze locked onto her, and the air around them seemed to hum with energy. He studied her, his expression unreadable, yet something flickered in those piercing eyes—curiosity? Amusement? Annoyance?

"You should not be here." His voice was deep, smooth, carrying the weight of command.

Evelyn swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand tall. "I didn't come here by mistake."

One dark brow arched slightly. "No, you didn't."

He stepped closer, his movements fluid and predatory, and Evelyn's breath caught as an invisible force seemed to tether her to him. It was then she realized—

She wasn't just in his domain.

She belonged to it now.

And there would be no escape.