The stone walls of the Volturi castle loomed around Alara as she descended into its depths, her senses alight with the intoxicating pull of prey. The air grew colder the deeper she went, the oppressive weight of centuries pressing down on her as her boots clicked against the worn stones. She moved with predatory grace, her steps light and purposeful, the instinct to hunt thrumming in her veins.
Each heartbeat from the humans below resonated in her mind like a drumbeat, their fear barely perceptible but present—a flicker of unease as they navigated the labyrinthine halls. She didn't need to see them to know where they were. Their paths stretched before her like glowing strands of light, twisting and turning with every movement they made. She could feel their hesitation at each intersection, their slight pauses as they adjusted the weight of the bags they carried. Every step they took etched itself into her consciousness.
Her lips curled into a predatory smile as she stopped at a junction, tilting her head to listen. She could feel their fear, faint but growing, as though they were becoming aware of something wrong—something watching. The castle's silence amplified the sound of their footsteps, each vibration in the air painting a clearer picture of their path.
"They're close," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with excitement. Her fingers brushed against the cold stone walls as she turned sharply, her pace quickening. The hunt had overtaken her completely now, the thrill of the chase clouding every rational thought.
The humans didn't know she was there—yet. But their fear pulsed in the air, delicious and magnetic, drawing her closer like a moth to a flame. The deeper she moved into the pitch-black tunnels, the more intoxicating it became. The oppressive darkness swallowed everything beyond the faint beams of light from the torches the humans carried.
Their battery-powered lights cut through the blackness in trembling arcs, but their reach was pitifully short. Shadows loomed just beyond their edges, shifting and writhing like spectres waiting to pounce. Alara smiled to herself, her lips curling in anticipation as she followed silently, her steps lighter than a whisper.
The faint hum of the torches' batteries was drowned out by the humans' shallow breaths and hurried footsteps. Their light flickered erratically as their hands shook, casting jagged patterns across the cold, stone walls. Alara stayed just beyond their reach, cloaked in the darkness they couldn't pierce, her crimson eyes gleaming faintly as she savoured the raw energy of their unease.
Every stumble, every quickened breath, painted a clearer picture in her mind. She didn't need to see them; she could feel their movements, sense their frantic energy radiating like a beacon. The darkness was her ally, and their feeble lights only served to make them more vulnerable, more deliciously fragile.
She stopped abruptly, her sharp senses picking up the faint whispers of the humans ahead. Their voices were hushed, hurried, but tinged with something that made her chest tighten in dark delight—unease.
"Did you hear that?" one of them muttered, his voice trembling just enough to catch her attention.
"Hear what?" came the whispered reply, a little sharper, as if trying to mask the same undercurrent of fear.
"I swear I heard something… back there."
The moment hung in the air, fragile and electric, and Alara let it stretch. One of the humans, breathing sharply, spun around and flicked their torch behind them, the beam of light cutting through the suffocating darkness. The walls loomed in jagged relief, the shadows leaping and stretching with the motion.
They saw nothing, but Alara remained still, a predator perfectly hidden just beyond the torch's reach. She could feel their apprehension growing, their heartbeats quickening with every passing second. Perfect.
A slow, deliberate scratch of her nails against the stone wall was the first deliberate sound she made. It was faint but unmistakable, a grating noise that echoed down the corridor and crawled into their ears like a whispered warning.
The voices halted instantly, cut off as if sliced by the blade of silence. She stayed still, waiting, savouring the way the air seemed to thicken with their dread.
"Did you hear that?" the first voice hissed, louder now, strained. His fear carried like music to her sharpened senses.
"I… No. Stop it, you're imagining things," the other replied, though his words faltered, unconvincing.
Alara's grin widened. Slowly, she exhaled, letting out a soft, hollow sound that could have been mistaken for a distant gust of wind—or a low, inhuman sigh. It swept through the corridor like a ghostly caress, barely audible but impossible to ignore.
"Okay, that I heard," the second human whispered harshly, his panic rising. "What was that?"
Alara moved closer, her footsteps silent on the cold stone floor. Her body pressed against the wall, hidden in shadow, her eyes narrowing as she focused on their trembling forms. She let the silence hang heavy again before she added another sound—this time, a faint knock. Three sharp taps against the stone wall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The noise ricocheted through the tunnels like a distant, spectral warning, too deliberate to be natural.
"Shit," one of them muttered, his breath hitching audibly. "What the hell was that?"
The other didn't answer, too focused on scanning the darkness. Alara could hear the shuffle of their feet, the nervous shifting of weight as they adjusted their bags. One of them fumbled with something—a flashlight, perhaps—but its weak beam only emphasised the oppressive shadows surrounding them.
She couldn't resist. As they moved cautiously forward, she reached out with one foot and kicked a loose stone from the edge of the tunnel. It clattered loudly, bouncing down the corridor and into the darkness ahead of them. The noise reverberated like a thunderclap in the still air, making both humans freeze.
"What was that?!" one of them cried, his voice breaking.
"I don't know! Just keep moving, it's probably nothing," the other whispered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
"Nothing doesn't make noises like that!"
Alara stifled a laugh, her body thrumming with the thrill of their fear. She inhaled deeply, savouring the faint scent of adrenaline that now clung to them like a second skin. Their terror radiated in waves, filling the air with an almost tangible energy.
And she wasn't done.
She moved silently, positioning herself just out of their sight. Then, with a slow, deliberate precision, she let out a low, guttural growl. It rumbled softly at first, like a predator waking, but it built steadily, growing louder, more menacing, before cutting off abruptly.
The effect was instantaneous.
"Oh my god, what is that?!" one of them shouted, his voice rising in panic. The flashlight beam jerked wildly, illuminating nothing but the empty corridor ahead and the flickering shadows behind them.
"Run," the other whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of their quickening breaths.
Alara's lips curled into a wicked smile, her crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the dark. She stayed still, a phantom in the shadows, letting the anticipation simmer, her patience amplifying the thrill. The game had only just begun, and she intended to savour every moment.
Then, as if a dam had broken, the humans erupted into a full sprint. Their footsteps thundered against the stone floors, uneven and frantic, their panic driving them forward with reckless desperation. The harsh beams of their torches swung wildly with every stride, casting jittering streaks of light against the walls, illuminating nothing but the shadows that swallowed them.
Alara followed silently, her movements smooth and unhurried, a sharp contrast to the chaos ahead of her. The sound of their ragged breaths and the pounding rhythm of their steps filled the tunnels, echoing back at them like a cruel reminder of their own fragility. Their fear was intoxicating, radiating in thick, suffocating waves that called to her, feeding the fire that burned within her.
She remained just out of reach, allowing the distance between them to stretch and contract like a taut string. They stumbled and pushed forward, driven by blind terror, the realisation that something was behind them—something they couldn't see—keeping them moving.
Ahead, a door loomed at the end of the tunnel, and with a burst of frantic energy, they barrelled through it. Their combined weight sent it slamming shut behind them, the hollow boom reverberating through the stone halls. The sound echoed back to Alara, and her grin widened as she came to a halt just beyond the door, her body coiled with predatory delight.
Inside the room, the two humans leaned against the heavy wooden door, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Around them, a small group of other servants looked up from their tasks, their faces painted with confusion.
"What's wrong?" one of them asked, a middle-aged woman with a laundry basket balanced on her hip.
"We… we heard something," one of the fleeing men stammered, his eyes darting toward the door as if expecting it to burst open at any moment.
The woman frowned, glancing between them. "This is an old castle. There are always odd noises. You probably just startled yourself."
"No," the second man cut in, his voice trembling as he gripped the straps of his bag tightly. "It wasn't just some noise. It was like… like a growl." His eyes were wide, and his hands shook as he gestured toward the door. "Something was following us."
The room fell quiet for a moment, the air thick with a growing unease. One of the younger servants, a lanky boy barely out of his teens, let out a nervous laugh. "A growl? Seriously? What, you think it's some kind of ghost?"
The first man shook his head furiously, his panic bubbling to the surface. "It wasn't a ghost! I know what I heard. It was right behind us. It… it felt like it was watching us."
"Maybe it was one of the Volturi," another servant muttered, their tone more cautious now, as if the name itself carried weight in the dark.
"No way," the panicked man shot back, his voice rising. "They never come down here! They stay upstairs in their creepy throne room, and they don't bother with the lower levels. Everyone knows that."
The older woman frowned, her gaze shifting to the door as if she could sense the tension seeping through the wood. "If it was them, you'd better pray they don't hear you talking like that. They don't take kindly to gossip."
"It wasn't them!" the man insisted, his voice breaking. "It was something else… something wrong. I don't know what it was, but it's out there, and it's after us."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on them all. The faint flicker of torchlight played across their faces, highlighting the fear that now gripped each of them. No one moved, their ears straining to catch even the faintest sound beyond the door.
Alara stood just outside, her body pressed against the cold stone wall, listening with sharp amusement. She could hear the rapid beats of their hearts, the way their breath caught in their throats, the whisper of fear in every word they spoke. It was intoxicating.
She raised one hand, her nails dragging lightly down the door. The sound was subtle but unmistakable—a soft, grating scrape that echoed in the tense silence, crawling through the air like a whispered warning.
From inside, a scream tore through the stillness, sharp and panicked. "See?! That's what I was talking about!" one of the humans shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.
Wind?!" a third voice hissed, laced with a rising edge of hysteria. "We're three floors underground! What wind?" The words hung in the air, heavy and damning, as the realisation began to seep into the group.
Their panic thickened, their breaths growing shallow and uneven as silence fell once more. Alara stood just outside, her smile curling wider. She could feel the shift, the way fear gripped them tighter, and it was exquisite.
Alara stood motionless before the heavy wooden door, her body tense, her head tilted slightly to the side as though she were listening to something only she could hear. Her eyes were unfocused, staring not at the door but through it. The humans beyond were oblivious to exactly what was stalking them from the other side, but their fear was a beacon to her, pulling her in like gravity.
Her senses sharpened, every detail of their presence beyond the door a vivid, visceral map in her mind. She whispered to herself, her voice soft and laced with anticipation, as though narrating their every move.
"The woman… she shifted her weight. She's nervous. She knows something isn't right." A quiet pause as Alara's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Her heart just skipped. Did you hear that? She's trying to stay calm for the others, but it's failing."
Her hand drifted to the door, her fingers hovering over the rough wood as if caressing it. "The man with the bag—he's pacing now. The tension in his muscles… he's ready to bolt. Fight or flight. But he's choosing flight. Smart, but futile." She chuckled softly, the sound low and predatory. "They all know something is out here. Something's watching."
She inhaled deeply, her heightened awareness pulling in every subtle vibration, every shift in air pressure from their frantic movements. "The young one—he's trembling. His fingers keep brushing the table's edge as if it could anchor him. He doesn't know what to do. Poor thing." Her voice dropped to a near purr, her amusement dark and chilling. "His fear is palpable. Almost sweet."
She continued whispering to herself, calling out every twitch, every frantic shuffle, every shallow breath beyond the door. She saw them not with her eyes but with her senses, their presence lighting up her mind like fireflies in the dark. Their pathways, their likely movements, glowed faintly in her awareness, threads of possibility branching out before them. She could see which ones would run, which ones would stay frozen, and where each thread would end—in the warmth of their blood staining her hands.
The kings and their elite guard moved silently through the corridor behind her. Their forms were shadows, barely perceptible in the dim light, their footsteps hushed as they approached. Felix led the way, his massive frame poised for action, but Aro's raised hand halted him mid-step.
"Wait," Aro murmured, his voice barely audible. His sharp crimson eyes fixed on Alara, his curiosity piqued.
"She's not attacking," Marcus whispered, his usually solemn tone edged with intrigue. "Why is she hesitating?"
"She's entranced." Aro replied softly, his gaze narrowing as he took a measured step forward. He tilted his head, listening intently to the murmurs that fell from Alara's lips. "She's narrating their every move."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances, but Aro silenced them with a single glance. "Hold," he commanded, his tone firm but curious. "I want to hear this."
The kings and their guard remained still as Alara continued to whisper, oblivious to their presence. Her focus was entirely consumed by the humans on the other side of the door, their fear painting a vivid tapestry in her mind.
"The older one just touched her throat," she murmured, a smile playing on her lips. "It's dry. She's thirsty, but her fear keeps her frozen. That pulse… so fast, so loud. It's like a drumbeat, calling me."
Aro's eyes gleamed with fascination as he listened, his mind turning over the implications of her words. Alara wasn't merely stalking her prey. She was immersed in them, connected to their every thought and movement in a way that transcended physical senses.
"She sees more than we do," Aro said softly, his voice tinged with admiration. "This isn't just tracking. She feels their fear, their hesitation, their desperation. She's… experiencing them."
Caius's voice was a low growl as he stepped closer, his sharp gaze fixed on Alara's tense form. "And what use is it if she lets the hunt consume her? She's barely holding back."
Aro held up a hand, silencing his brother. "No. Look closer, Caius. She's not attacking because she doesn't need to—not yet. She's savouring it. Learning." He tilted his head, a small smile curving his lips. "This is extraordinary."
Alara's whispers continued, growing softer, more intimate as her senses delved deeper into the humans' emotional and physical states. "The boy… he's clenching his fists now. The nails are digging into his palms. Trying to muster courage, perhaps? Oh, how that will fail him." She chuckled darkly. "His heartbeat—it's slowing. Resignation. He knows running won't save him."
Her fingers trailed over the door again, her body shivering with the thrill of the hunt. "They're so close… I could reach them in an instant. Their panic, their trembling—it's exquisite." Her voice dipped to a low, dangerous whisper. "And yet… I want more."
Aro took a step forward, his presence silent. He motioned for the guards to stay back, his interest in Alara's behaviour deepening.
"Alara," he said softly, his voice calm but carrying a weight that cut through her trance.
She stiffened, her whispers halting abruptly. Slowly, her head turned, her eyes locking onto his. For a moment, there was no recognition, only the feral gleam of a predator interrupted mid-hunt. Then, slowly, awareness seeped back into her gaze.
"Aro," she murmured, her voice low, almost dazed. Her lips curled into a faint smirk, though the wild hunger in her eyes remained. "You're interrupting."
Aro chuckled softly, his expression one of quiet amusement. "Oh, my dear, I wouldn't dream of it. I merely wish to understand what has you so… enraptured."
Alara's gaze flicked back to the door, her fingers brushing it once more as if drawn to the humans beyond. "They're… fascinating," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "So fragile, so terrified. I can feel their fear, their hesitation, like it's part of me. It's… beautiful."
Aro's smile deepened, though his eyes glinted with a darker curiosity. "And what would you do, if I let you continue?"
Her smirk widened, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she leaned closer to the door. "I would show them what it means to be prey."
The tension in the corridor thickened as her words hung in the air, the line between predator and control stretched taut. Aro's gaze remained steady, his mind racing with the possibilities of what he had witnessed.
"Remarkable," he murmured, his tone laced with both admiration and concern. "But now, Alara, it is time to step back. We mustn't let the darkness consume you completely."
Alara's eyes narrowed, her smirk fading into a challenging glare. The hunt still called to her, its pull as intoxicating as ever. But something in Aro's gaze—a flicker of understanding, of unspoken connection—gave her pause. For now, she held her ground, the fire in her veins simmering, waiting.
A faint smile curved his lips, but there was no mistaking the edge of warning beneath his words. "Dear Alara, we do not hunt in Volterra. Least of all the humans in our employ."
Alara faltered, her fingers hovering over the wooden door as she tilted her head to glance back at him. Her eyes still burned with the fire of the hunt, her instincts fighting against the restraint he so calmly demanded. For a moment, the tension hung heavy in the air, her body coiled like a spring ready to snap.
"They're here," she hissed softly, the words more to herself than to him. "So close, so afraid… It's maddening, Aro." Her lips curled into a sneer. "You can't tell me you don't feel it—their terror. It's intoxicating."
Aro's expression softened slightly, though his hand remained outstretched, a gesture of calm control. "Ah, but I do understand, my dear," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. "That rush, the pull of their fear—it is exhilarating. But here, within the walls of Volterra, such indulgence is… forbidden." His gaze sharpened, his tone growing firmer. "These humans are not prey, Alara. They are tools, resources, carefully cultivated to serve our purpose. Their lives sustain our secrecy, not our thirst."
Her jaw tightened, her teeth bared in a momentary flash of rebellion. "Tools?" she spat, her voice low and venomous. "They're alive, Aro. Beating hearts, trembling hands, blood just beneath their skin. You keep them so close yet deny what they truly are."
Caius opened his mouth, his expression sharpening as he prepared to deliver one of his biting reprimands. But before he could speak, Alara's attention snapped back to the humans beyond the door. Her posture stiffened, her nostrils flaring as her heightened abilities latched onto a new shift in their movements. Her head tilted as she began narrating softly, her voice dripping with dark amusement.
Alara's crimson eyes half-lidded, her lips curling into a faint, knowing grin as the threads of possibility began to weave themselves into her awareness. The humans' movements painted her mind like a tapestry of light, glowing strands stretching out before her, each representing a choice, a path, a potential future. Some threads flickered weakly, barely formed, while others shone bright and steady, screaming with likelihood.
"They're all so predictable," she murmured, her voice low and laced with amusement. "Their fear carves the path for them, as clear as daylight."
Her head tilted as her focus sharpened, her predatory instincts locking onto the strands of light that burned the brightest. She saw the humans scattered across the room beyond the door, each one a pulsing beacon of anxiety and purpose. Her whispers continued, each word a chilling commentary on their fate.
"Look at them," Alara whispered, her voice low and laced with dark amusement. Her crimson eyes gleamed as she traced the glowing threads of possibility that danced in her mind. "The first one… he's moving. Fast. He's already decided. He's heading for the door—right side, his stride short but urgent."
Her smirk widened as another thread flared brighter, aligning with the first. "The second one… he hesitates for just a moment, but the first one's panic is infectious," Alara murmured, her tone dripping with amusement. "He follows, his hand tightening on his bag like it's some kind of shield. They're shoulder to shoulder now, one pushing the other forward. His eyes dart around the room, searching—desperate—for an escape that feels safe. Poor fool… there's no such thing."
Her gaze flicked to the third thread, its glow weaker, more uncertain, branching off in multiple directions. The older man's movements were slower, less frantic, but his hesitation painted a complex tapestry of possibilities before her. Alara's grin shifted into something darker as she focused on his potential pathways.
"The older one," she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. "He doesn't know what to do. His fear is slower to build, less instinctive, but it's there. I can see it creeping in, twisting around his choices." Her head tilted slightly as her crimson eyes traced the dimmer threads. "He has options. So many dim, flickering routes. He thinks about staying—trying to calm the others, playing the voice of reason. One thread shows him stepping toward the far corner of the room, almost like he is telling them to 'stop being ridiculous.' But it's faint—he doesn't truly believe his own words."
Her lips curled into a faint, taunting grin as she followed another flickering strand. "And here… he almost moves toward the door they entered from. A part of him wants to check, to see what rattled the younger ones. His hand nearly reaches out, but no. That thread fizzles, dim and weak. He doesn't want to risk it."
Her focus sharpened as the brightest thread pulsed in her mind, aligning with the others. "Ah, but this… this is the path he chooses. He follows them, his steps slower, heavier. He tells himself it's to keep the others in check, to make sure they don't do something foolish. But I can feel it—the fear is catching up to him now. Their panic is his panic."
Her voice dipped into a soft, taunting purr as she watched the threads shift and glow, predicting every move before it happened. "The first one reaches the door. His hand is on the handle—his grip's too tight, it's shaking. He pushes it open, quick and clumsy. He doesn't even glance behind him. The second one follows, glancing back once, just once, like he's expecting something to leap out of the dark. The older one… ah, there he goes. He pauses, just for a heartbeat. Maybe he's rethinking it, maybe he wants to tell them to slow down. But no—he goes through. He's committed now."
Her eyes flicked to the glowing threads as they stretched upward, their paths winding and twisting toward the staircase beyond the door. "They're heading up. Their steps will get faster, clumsier. They'll stumble, jostle each other, argue in whispers about who should be leading. They'll think they're getting away. But the fear… it's with them. Every step they take, every beat of their hearts—it'll follow."
Her lips curved into a wicked grin, her tone dripping with quiet malice. "And so will I."
The kings exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of fascination and unease as they watched her, her focus entirely consumed by the humans' actions.
Her lips curved as her gaze flicked to another strand, this one more erratic, its glow pulsing with hesitation. "Ah, the boy… He lingers. His pathway is jagged, twisting. Uncertain. He doesn't want to go, not yet. His light flickers brighter toward the door the others entered from. He'll make his way there, but slowly, cautiously, as though afraid of what he might find. "
She laughed softly, her voice a taunting melody. "He's curious, but not brave. He hesitates at the handle, his hand trembling just above it. His mind is at war—check, don't check, stay, go. A chaotic little light, so unsure of itself."
The faint glow of another thread caught her attention, and she turned slightly, her voice dropping to a purr. "But she… She is steady. The older woman. Her pathway burns clear and unwavering. She doesn't falter, doesn't pause. She's already decided. 'Let it go,' she tells him. 'Don't get involved.'"
Aro's gaze sharpened, his interest piqued as he stepped closer to Alara, though he made no move to interrupt her. Caius, his irritation still simmering, folded his arms, his icy glare fixed on her.
Alara's eyes narrowed as she traced the bright, glowing path the woman's presence carved through her mind. "She takes his arm—firmly, no room for argument—and drags him away. Her route is straightforward, clean, cutting through the web of indecision like a blade. Down the tunnel, toward her tasks. Away from the unknown. She thinks she's leading him to safety."
Her smirk widened, her voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "But fear doesn't fade so easily. He'll follow her, reluctantly, his steps lagging behind, his thoughts still on that door. Even when he leaves, the thread will pull at him. He'll remember it. It'll haunt him."
The strands of light shifted in her mind, their movements fluid as the humans continued to act on their fear and instincts. Alara's voice softened, as if she were speaking to herself now, fully immersed in the vision.
"The three on the staircase… their path diverges soon. The first one to leave, he stumbles, their thread dimming and splitting into multiple directions as panic takes over. The other two hesitate, their light dimming briefly before growing bright again—they'll pull the weaker one forward. Together, but shaky."
Her gaze flicked back to the tunnel the woman led the boy into. "She's moving faster now, her pace strong. Her light stays bright. But the boy… his light flickers, weaker and slower. He looks back, once, maybe twice. He'll follow her, but his mind stays here, with the door. He'll carry the weight of what he's imagined, long after he's gone."
Alara stepped back slightly, her body shivering with the thrill of what she saw, the tapestry of human decisions unfolding before her. "They're like moths in a flame-lit room," she whispered, her voice almost reverent. "Each one pulled in a different direction, each thread twisting and crossing… yet all of them so fragile."
Behind her, Aro watched intently, his expression shadowed with curiosity and caution. "You see their paths," he said, his voice soft but deliberate. "Not just where they are, but where they will go."
Alara's smirk didn't fade as she glanced back at him, her crimson eyes glinting with dangerous delight. "I see everything, Aro," she murmured, her tone both boastful and taunting. "Every step, every hesitation, every choice they think is theirs. They are mine before they even know it."
Aro's lips curved into a faint smile, though his gaze remained sharp, calculating. "And what do you make of these paths, my dear? Do you see how they converge? How they lead to you?"
Alara's laugh was low and dark, reverberating softly in the dim corridor. Her eyes glowed faintly as the threads of possibility sharpened in her mind, no longer vague wisps but brilliant, living strands of light stretching out before her. Each one pulsed with the emotions of the humans on the other side of the door—panic, hesitation, desperation. They twisted and writhed, branching into countless directions, some glowing faintly, others burning bright with urgency.
"Oh, I see, Aro," she murmured, her voice tinged with a chilling satisfaction. "And it's beautiful." Her gaze traced the brightest thread, a vibrant, erratic line that flared with frantic energy. Her lips curled into a smirk as she focused on it.
The first man stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The motion was sharp and final, matching the thread's flickering path. His voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. "That's it. I'm getting the fuck out of here."
The thread surged forward, its movements jagged and impulsive. Alara's head tilted slightly, her fingers brushing against the door as she watched the scene unfold in her mind. "There he goes," she whispered. "Straight to the far door. His steps are quick, uneven. He doesn't even look back—just forward, toward what he thinks is safety."
The second thread flared to life, its movements syncing with the first as another man stepped forward, his voice less steady than he intended. "Yeah, same. Whatever's going on, I'm not sticking around for it."
"Two of them now," Alara murmured, her focus sharpening as she tracked their paths. "Their fear feeds each other, amplifying every doubt, every hesitation. They'll cling together, running blindly into the dark."
Her focus shifted, drawn to a cluster of dimmer threads flickering with indecision. The older man sat still for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, his body tense. His thread branched in multiple directions, each one tugging at him in different ways. Alara's smirk deepened as she watched them struggle for dominance.
One thread burned faintly at first, then grew stronger as the older man stood, his movements deliberate but hesitant. "Alright," he said gruffly, his voice tinged with reluctant unease. "If you two are spooked, I'm coming too. Let's just get this over with."
Alara's smirk softened into a knowing smile. "And there's the third," she whispered. "He doesn't believe it, not fully. But their fear… it's sinking into him. He can't ignore it now. He's going with them, even if he doesn't know why."
The glowing strands moved in unison as the three humans crossed the room, their footsteps hurried but uneven. The first man reached the door and shoved it open, his breaths coming in short gasps. "Up the stairs. Let's just get the hell out of here."
"The staircase," Alara said softly, watching their threads coil and twist upward. "One after the other. Fast, clumsy, their fear leading every step. They won't stop until they're far enough away to convince themselves they're safe."
She tilted her head, her gaze darting to the room behind them. The threads of two others still lingered, pulsing faintly. The boy hesitated near the door they had entered through, his hand hovering over the handle. "He's staying behind," Alara murmured, her voice almost reverent. "Curiosity keeps him here, but his fear is whispering louder now."
Alara leaned closer to the door, her voice soft and taunting as though she were speaking directly to the humans on the other side. "Go ahead," she murmured, her tone lilting with dark encouragement. "Open the door. Look into the abyss. See what's waiting for you."
"Ah, but here she comes. The older woman… practical, grounded. She's crossing the room now, her steps firm. She's pulling him back."
"Let it be." she said, gripping his arm firmly. "We have things to do. Don't get involved in whatever this is."
Her eyes gleamed with a predatory light as she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper. "The boy hesitates… so close. But no, she takes his arm, leading him away. Down another tunnel. Their steps are brisk, hers purposeful. His, reluctant. He's not convinced, but he follows."
Her lips curled into a sly smile as the glowing pathways shifted, the humans scattering like frightened mice in a maze. "They think they're escaping." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But all they're doing is following the paths I've already seen."
The guard remained silent, their unease growing as Alara narrated every move with uncanny precision. Marcus shifted slightly, his gaze flicking between her and Aro, as if waiting for his brother's reaction.
"They think they've escaped me." Alara murmured, her tone edged with amusement. "That their lives are theirs to carry on with, undisturbed. But they don't understand, do they?" She turned her head slightly, her sharp gaze meeting Aro's. "Fear leaves a trail. And I can feel it, every step they take."
Aro's lips curved into a faint smile, though his expression remained calculating. "Extraordinary," he said softly, his voice carrying both intrigue and caution. "You see so much, cara mia. More than even the most skilled among us."
"They're right to be afraid," Alara replied, her tone defiant, almost daring him to contradict her. "Because I see them. Every breath, every thought, every choice. And they can't hide from me."
Her eyes flicked back to the door, the smirk returning to her lips as her senses latched onto the faint echoes of the humans' retreating footsteps. "They'll carry their fear with them." she whispered. "And it will sing to me, louder than their screams ever could."
The corridor was thick with tension as the kings and guards stood in silent observation, their focus fixed on Alara. She remained motionless, her posture rigid, her eyes half-lidded as her focus stayed firmly on the humans beyond the door. The glowing threads of their potential movements danced in her mind, each one a living pathway illuminated by fear, desperation, and fragile resolve.
Caius's lips pressed into a thin line, his icy glare flicking between Alara and Aro, his frustration simmering just below the surface. Marcus regarded her with a solemn gaze, the shadow of concern heavy in his eyes. The guards stood poised but hesitant, their instincts telling them to act, but Aro's raised hand kept them in check.
"Hold." Aro commanded softly, his tone calm but resolute. His crimson eyes remained fixed on Alara, his expression thoughtful. "Let her be."
Caius bristled, his hands curling into fists as he stepped closer. "Aro, she's—"
"Not now, Caius," Aro interrupted smoothly, his voice a silken thread of authority. "She's calm, focused. For the moment, she's in control. Let us not disrupt that."
Caius's jaw clenched, his frustration evident, but he fell silent, his sharp gaze still fixed on Alara. Marcus shifted slightly, his hands clasped behind his back as he studied her, his voice low and contemplative when he finally spoke. "What she sees… it's extraordinary. But it is also consuming her."
Aro nodded slowly, his focus unwavering as he took a measured step forward. "Yes," he murmured, his voice quiet but filled with purpose. "And it is our duty to guide her through it."
"She doesn't even hear us." Caius muttered, his tone sharp and edged with frustration. He folded his arms tightly, his icy gaze flicking to Aro. "She's entirely consumed. This… state of hers—it's dangerous."
"Dangerous, perhaps." Marcus countered softly, his sombre voice cutting through the tension. "But look at her, Caius. She's focused, controlled in her own way. She hasn't acted recklessly."
Caius scoffed, his jaw tightening. "Controlled? She's a breath away from hunting on our grounds—hunting our humans. That's not control, Marcus. That's barely restrained chaos."
"She's not hunting. Not in the traditional sense." Aro interjected smoothly, his tone calm and thoughtful. His gaze lingered on Alara, her whispers continuing like a melody only she could hear. "Not yet. She's observing, calculating. This is no mindless frenzy, brother. What you see is something far more precise."
"Precise?" Caius's voice rose slightly, his frustration bubbling over. "She's narrating their every move as if she's already in their heads. This obsession of hers—if it isn't stopped, it will spiral. You know it will."
"Paths we cannot see, choices we cannot predict. Do you not find it extraordinary? Such depth, such clarity."
"Extraordinary?" Caius's glare deepened, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're indulging her, Aro. This fixation—this power—it's dangerous, not just to her but to us all."
Marcus sighed quietly. "Perhaps it is dangerous, but it's also remarkable. She's navigating their fear, their decisions, as though they're laid bare before her. If she can master this…"
"If." Caius snapped, cutting Marcus off. "And what if she can't? What if it consumes her? She's a newborn, Marcus. Even now, she's teetering on the edge."
Aro tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile as he regarded Alara with quiet fascination. "She is no ordinary newborn, Caius. You see the instability, but I see the potential. She is not teetering—she's balancing, and beautifully so."
"Balancing?" Caius barked out a mirthless laugh, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what you call this? A newborn hunting in Volterra, risking the secrecy we've maintained for centuries? Do you expect me to applaud her restraint for not breaking through the door?"
"Enough, Caius." Marcus said quietly. "Your frustration is understandable, but your tone will do nothing to help."
Caius glared at Marcus but fell silent, his body tense as his icy gaze returned to Alara. "I don't trust this." he muttered. "She's too volatile. Too… unpredictable."
"This state of hers, while intense, is not chaos. It is something far more refined, Caius." Aro's gaze softened as he took a deliberate step toward Alara. "She has us."
Caius huffed quietly but didn't protest, his rigid posture the only indication of his lingering discontent. Marcus regarded Aro with a subtle nod.
"She must find balance," Marcus said softly, his eyes flicking to Alara, who remained lost in the threads of possibility she saw. "This power—this connection to fear—it could define her. But if she loses herself to it…"
"She won't." Aro interrupted, his tone resolute. "I will not allow it."
"And what if she defies you?" Caius pressed, his voice sharp. "What if this becomes something we can't control?"
Aro glanced back at Caius, his crimson eyes gleaming with quiet certainty. "Then we adapt, as we always have." His gaze returned to Alara, his voice softening. "But she is not lost to us. Not now, not ever."
"Then guide her, Aro. Keep her contained before this power becomes something she cannot return from." Marcus inclined his head slightly.
"I intend to." Aro murmured, stepping closer to Alara. His movements were calm, his gaze filled with both affection and curiosity. "For she is more than her power. She is ours."
Alara didn't react to their conversation, her attention fixed entirely on the shifting strands in her mind. She whispered softly, almost inaudibly, as though narrating to herself. "They're climbing now. One of them stumbles. The older one hesitates, just for a moment… but no. He keeps going. Fear keeps them all moving. They think it will save them." A dark smile tugged at her lips, her voice dipping into a near purr. "It won't."
He reached out slowly, his hand brushing against her arm in a soft, reassuring caress. His touch was gentle, nonthreatening—designed to draw her attention without startling her.
For a moment, Alara stilled, her focus wavering as the familiar sensation of her mate's presence broke through the haze of her hunting state. Her sharp eyes flicked toward him, her predatory intensity softened by something unspoken. Then, as though on instinct, she reached for him, her hand curling lightly around his arm as she pulled him closer.
Aro allowed her to guide him, his movements calm as he stepped into her space. She pressed him closer, her body angling slightly toward his as she leaned into him, her head tilting near his shoulder. Her eyes shifted to the upper right, as if peering through the solid stone above, tracking the faint vibrations of the humans as they ascended the stairs. Her gaze was distant yet focused, locked onto the vivid threads of possibility that wove through her mind, following their hurried movements with unnerving precision.
As he moved nearer, Aro's arms encircled her in a light embrace, his movements careful and measured. His hands rested gently on her back, his touch reassuring, as though he were holding her contained to the moment without breaking the focus she so fiercely clung to.
Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she spoke to him. "Do you see it, Aro?" she murmured, her tone laced with dark amusement. "They're scattering, like leaves in the wind. Their fear carries them, shapes their every move. It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Without warning, her attention shifted sharply to the far left, her eyes narrowing as she tracked their movements through the corridors. Her hand tightened slightly on his arm, her voice dipping lower as though sharing a secret. "The boy… he's looking back again. He can't help it. The thread pulls at him, tells him he's left something behind. But she pulls him forward. Her light burns bright, unwavering. She leads him away."
Aro's lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes glinting with a mixture of intrigue and affection. "I see it, my dear." he said softly, as though matching her energy. "And I see you. Brilliant and unrelenting."
Her lips curled faintly, her attention briefly flicking to him before her gaze shifted upward, as if following the path of the stairs above them. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her focus sharpening as she tracked their hurried steps, each vibration and faint movement painting a vivid picture in her mind. "They think they're escaping," she whispered, her voice almost reverent. "But they're leaving breadcrumbs behind. Fear stains every step, every choice. It will always lead back to me."
The other Volturi exchanged glances, their unease evident, but none of them dared interrupt. Even Caius, his frustration barely concealed, stayed silent, his sharp eyes watching the way Aro held her, the way her focus softened ever so slightly under his touch.
"She is remarkable," Marcus murmured, his tone contemplative. "But this… this power has a cost."
"For now." Aro replied softly, his gaze never leaving Alara as he held her. "Let her feel it. Let her see the threads she holds."
He didn't speak for a long moment, letting her soft whispers fill the silence. Her focus remained unbroken, her eyes locked on the unseen stairs, tracing every flicker of possibility that danced in her mind. The threads of fear and choice continued to shift and twist before her, painting a vivid tapestry that only she could see.
Finally, Aro spoke, his voice low and soothing, as though careful not to disrupt her delicate state. "Tell me, my dear." he murmured, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity. "What do you intend to do now?"
Alara didn't answer immediately. Her head tilted slightly, her lips parting as though tasting the air. Her whispers quieted, her focus narrowing to a single, glowing thread in her mind. Her body seemed coiled, like a predator ready to spring, though her mate's presence kept her movements languid, controlled.
"They're slowing." she said finally, her voice soft but laced with an edge of dark amusement. "The staircase—they think it's carried them far enough. Two of them are arguing now, their fear cracking under the weight of their frustration. The third… he's watching them, his eyes darting to the shadows. He knows better."
Aro's smile curved faintly, his thumb brushing lightly against her arm in a gesture of encouragement. "And the others?" he prompted gently.
"The boy… he's still lagging behind the older woman. His steps are slow, dragging. He keeps looking back, as though expecting to see something. He wants to turn around, but she's pulling him forward. She won't indulge him."
Her voice dipped into a near purr. "They're all so predictable, so fragile. They scatter like leaves, but no matter where they go, the threads will always lead back to me."
Aro's expression didn't waver, though his curiosity deepened. He tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes intent. "And yet." he murmured, "You remain here, watching. Observing. Are you not tempted to act, Alara? To see the hunt through to its end?"
Alara's gaze sharpened as a flicker of intensity crossed her features. For a moment, her silence stretched, heavy and electric. Then she spoke, her tone low and contemplative. "Tempted?" she repeated, as though tasting the word. "Always. The threads pull at me, Aro. They beg to be followed, to be cut. But…"
She trailed off, her voice softening as her fingers brushed the cold, worn stone of the wall. Her crimson eyes gleamed faintly, not with the sharpness of a predator on the brink, but with the clarity of something newly understood. "The hunt is about more than the kill." Her tone was reflective, quiet, carrying the weight of realisation. "It's about the fear. The chase. Their desperation—it's sweeter when they think they've escaped. I can see that now."
For so long, she hadn't seen it. She hadn't understood the delicate balance, the intricate dance between predator and prey. Before, the hunt was a singular thing to her—a swift and decisive act, a means to an end. Her instincts had driven her to close the gap as quickly as possible, to seize what she desired before it could slip away. There had been satisfaction in the kill, yes, but it was fleeting, a sharp peak of triumph that faded too quickly.
But now… now she saw the threads. The way fear lingered, growing and deepening the longer it was left to fester. She saw how the chase itself could stretch time, heightening every moment, every beat of a frantic heart, every tremor of a fleeing step. It wasn't just about claiming the prey—it was about the inevitability, the slow realisation that escape was never truly an option.
"It wasn't always like this." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "I didn't see the beauty of it before. I didn't understand how fear could grow, how it could shape them—and me."
Her fingers lingered on the stone, her gaze distant as the threads in her mind shimmered and danced. "But now… now I see it. Their fear doesn't just belong to them—it belongs to me. It binds them to me, even when they think they've escaped. Especially then."
Her lips curled faintly, the beginnings of a smirk playing at the edges. "It's not about the kill. Not anymore. It's about the chase, the build-up, the way their desperation makes the end that much sweeter. I see that now. And it makes all the difference."
"You savour it, then. The anticipation, the power. It is intoxicating, is it not?"
Alara turned her head slightly, her crimson eyes locking onto his. For a moment, the predatory hunger in her gaze softened, replaced by something quieter, more calculating. "It is." she admitted, her voice a whisper. "But the threads… they show me too much. Every choice they make, every step they take—it's all laid bare. It's almost… too easy."
Aro's hand shifted gently, his grip still light but firm as he brought her closer. "And so you wait." he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "You let the game play out, knowing they are yours, no matter how far they run."
Her smirk returned, faint but dangerous, as she leaned slightly into his touch. "Exactly." she whispered, her tone laced with dark satisfaction. "The longer they run, the sweeter the end."
Behind them, Caius let out a quiet scoff, though he didn't move to interrupt. Marcus remained silent, his gaze flicking between the two with a mixture of curiosity and unease. The guards shifted subtly, their unease palpable as they watched their queen poised on the edge of control, her mate holding her steady.
Aro's tone turned softer, almost coaxing. "And when the threads settle? When their choices are no more, and their paths have reached their end—what then, cara mia?"
Alara's smile widened, her crimson eyes gleaming as she turned her attention back to the stairs. "Then." she said, her voice dripping with quiet malice, "I decide which thread to cut."
Aro's hand gently caressed her lower back, his touch soothing, as if anchoring her in the moment. His tone remained calm, almost tender, as he spoke. "My dear Alara." he began softly. "You see them, feel them, in ways we cannot. It is extraordinary, truly. But there are limits we must respect, boundaries that keep our sanctuary intact."
Her composure faltered, her gaze snapping to his. "Boundaries?" she echoed, her voice low and sharp. The haze of her predatory focus began to fracture, anger flickering to life beneath her words. "You expect me to stop when everything inside me tells me to act? When they're so close, so perfect?"
Aro's grip remained gentle, though his voice took on a firmer edge. "Yes, Alara. I do. Volterra is sacred ground, our stronghold. These humans are not prey; they are tools, resources vital to our survival. To harm them would endanger everything we've built."
Her calmness cracked further, a snarl building low in her throat as her body tensed. "Tools." she spat, her voice venomous. "Blood coursing beneath their fragile skin. Fear written in every breath, every choice. And you would have me ignore that? Pretend it doesn't call to me?"
Aro didn't flinch, his gaze steady. "Not pretend, my dear," he said, his tone steady but insistent. "Restrain. Control. It is the mark of strength to hold back, even when the pull is intoxicating."
Alara's hands balled into fists, her voice rising as the haze began to shatter. "Strength? You keep them here, flaunting their fragility, and expect me to stay still?"
The tension in the corridor thickened, the air charged as her anger flared. Marcus moved swiftly, stepping to her other side with a purposeful presence. His hand reached for hers, his touch gentle as he drew her attention to him.
"Alara." he said softly, his voice steady and grounding. "Look at me."
Her gaze snapped to him, still burning with fury, but his quiet intensity gave her pause. He wasn't commanding her, wasn't trying to assert control. He was simply there, her mate, offering her a tether.
"I'm not here to tell you what to do." Marcus continued. "I'm here because I see you, I feel what you're struggling with. And I know how hard it is to fight this. But you're stronger than it. You always have been."
"Marcus…" she began, her voice faltering, a mixture of anger and anguish. "They're so close. I can feel them. I—"
"I know." he interrupted gently, his other hand rising to cup her cheek. His touch was grounding, and his eyes bore into hers with quiet resolve. "But this isn't the place. Not here, not now. You know that."
Her lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but the weight of his gaze held her. The fire in her eyes dimmed slightly, though her body remained coiled with tension. Behind them, Caius stood silent, his usual sharp remarks unspoken. His icy gaze flicked between them, and for once, he saw the delicacy of the moment—the way Marcus's approach diffused the chaos where his own anger would only have fanned the flames.
"She's calmer than… previous encounters." Caius muttered under his breath, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. "You're right to treat this carefully."
Aro's crimson eyes flicked between Alara's tense form and Marcus's grounding presence. The faint tremor in her coiled frame, the smouldering fire in her gaze—this wasn't a moment for commands or confrontation. He knew now that a direct denial would only push her closer to the edge. He needed another way, something that would give her a sense of control while guiding her away from this path.
Instead, he allowed his voice to carry the quiet authority of suggestion and well-placed questions rather than command.
"You see them so clearly, cara." he murmured. "Each step, each hesitation, their every breath—it is all laid bare to you. Tell me, my dear, what do you believe they'll do next?"
Alara blinked, her predatory focus narrowing as she tilted her head, her gaze flicking back toward the left corridor. The glowing threads in her mind shimmered faintly, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "The boy… he's still looking back. He doesn't trust the others to lead him to safety. He'll fall behind soon, hesitate long enough to get caught."
"So astute, my love. And the others? Will they continue to run blindly, or will they pause to make their stand?"
"They'll run." Alara replied without hesitation. "Their fear owns them now. It's too sweet, too potent—they'll keep moving until they believe they're safe."
"And do you think they ever will?" Aro asked softly, his tone carrying a note of curiosity. "Will they find that safety, Alara? Or does their fear linger, clinging to them like a shadow?"
Her eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction. "Fear doesn't fade, Aro. It stays with them. Even if they reach the surface, they'll feel it for days. Weeks, even. It will always be there, in the back of their minds. If they live that long…"
His voiced dropped to a near whisper. "Exactly, my dear. You've already claimed them. Their fear is yours, etched into their very beings. Why waste that beautiful tension now, when it will only grow richer with time? Let them run. Let them carry it with them, ripening like a fruit you can pluck at the perfect moment."
Alara's gaze flicked back to the door, her fingers brushing its surface as her thoughts raced. The pull of the hunt was still there, tugging at her instincts, but Aro's words lingered, weaving through her mind like a thread. She could feel the truth in them. The fear she'd sown wouldn't vanish—it would fester, deepen.
"And when the moment comes?" she asked, her voice softer, contemplative. "When their fear reaches its peak?"
Aro's smile widened slightly, his tone almost conspiratorial. "Then, cara mia, it will be entirely yours to savour. Fear doesn't vanish when they leave this place—it follows them. Imagine the sweetness of it when it has ripened, when they think they've escaped."
Her smirk returned, faint but dangerous, as she leaned slightly into his touch. "You're saying to let them think they've won." she murmured, her voice laced with dark amusement. "To let the game stretch."
"Exactly." Aro said softly, his crimson eyes gleaming with approval. "You hold the threads, Alara. Their paths, their choices—they all lead to you in the end. Why rush to end the hunt when you've already won?"
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in her body easing as the fire in her eyes dimmed. She glanced back at him, her smirk curling wider. "Perhaps you're right." she admitted, her tone almost playful. "The longer they run, the sweeter it will be when they realise they never escaped me."
Marcus exchanged a brief glance with Aro. Relief flickered in his usually solemn expression, though he didn't speak. Caius, too, remained uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze flicking between Alara and Aro as though trying to understand how his brother had diffused the situation without issuing a single direct command.
Alara straightened, her posture more at ease in Aro's embrace. "Let them carry their fear." She said softly, almost to herself. "It will only make the end more satisfying."
Aro smiled, his touch lingering on her arm for a moment longer. "A wise choice, my dear. A hunter who knows when to wait is the one who always wins." For now, the moment had passed, and though the tension lingered, they knew Aro had steered her back to calm without ever telling her no. It was her decision—or so she believed—and that made all the difference. Aro knew the delicacy of the moment—and he seized the opportunity.
He stepped back slightly, offering his arm to her. "Come, cara mia." he said softly, his tone smooth and coaxing. "We have much to discuss." His crimson gaze held hers, guiding her focus away from the door and onto him. He felt the subtle shift as she took his arm, allowing him to lead her down the corridor with her head held high.
As they moved, Aro glanced over his shoulder. "Remove all the humans from the castle." He instructed, his words clipped and purposeful. "Ensure they do not return until I say so."
Felix gave a slight nod, his sharp eyes flicking to Demetri, who inclined his head in silent agreement. The two guards moved immediately, their forms disappearing into the shadows.
Alara, oblivious to the command, walked beside Aro as she adjusted to the clarity settling over her. "Much to discuss, you said." She mused, her voice lighter now, though the edge of her predatory instinct still lingered. "I hope it's something worth my time."