Chapter 3 Shadows in the Halls
The corridors of the Alpha’s estate stretched endlessly into shadow, the flickering torchlight casting long, wavering shapes on the cold stone walls. Each step Aria took echoed softly, a muted rhythm in the otherwise still night. Her limbs trembled slightly with weakness, lingering effects of the poison she had discovered, but she refused to let it slow her. Every muscle in her body, every nerve in her mind, was alert. She was no longer the fragile daughter the household had been conditioned to see.
Her antidote had dulled the worst of the toxin’s influence, though her body still protested with subtle aches and a lingering fatigue. Yet every moment spent bedridden, every sigh of concern from her parents, was fuel to her resolve. If they thought her fragile, if they pitied her, they had underestimated the fire she carried within. Her mind, sharp and relentless, needed answers. Someone in this house had sought to make her weak, to keep her powerless. And she intended to uncover them.
Tonight, she will begin.
---
The library door creaked softly as she pushed it open. The familiar scent of old parchment and cedar washed over her, and moonlight spilled through the tall windows, painting golden stripes across the dust motes dancing lazily in the air. Aria’s eyes scanned the shelves, searching for anything that could give her insight.
This was not merely a hunt for knowledge. This was a hunt for truth. The Alpha’s daughter in the story had been doomed to weakness, but Aria had lived a life in another world where intellect was her weapon. She would not be a pawn in this game.
Her fingers hovered over the leather-bound volumes until she found an ancient herbal compendium, its pages yellowed and fragile. She flipped it open carefully, her gaze scanning the meticulously inked text.
“Gradual debilitation toxins… slow-acting venoms… herbs with delayed systemic effects…”
Her pulse quickened. Fatigue, muscle weakness, a faint, persistent burn in the chest, all matched the symptoms listed. The toxin in this world was subtle, calculated, hidden beneath layers of apparent medicine and care. It wasn’t meant to kill, only to subdue, to ensure she remained pliable and malleable to someone else’s design.
Aria’s lips pressed into a thin, determined line. She traced the words again, memorizing every ingredient, every warning. Whoever had done this had underestimated one critical factor: she would not remain a victim.
---
A soft noise startled her. Footsteps, deliberate, heavy, not belonging to a servant.
Aria froze, senses sharpening. Her wolf stirred beneath the surface of her skin, alert and restless. She hid behind the shelves, body taut, ready. The door creaked, and a figure stepped inside.
The young man who entered was familiar from the novel, a presence always lurking at the edges of intrigue and danger, Gamma's son. Broad-shouldered, handsome, with a smile that carried hidden knives, he regarded her with an arrogant ease that made her stomach twist with unease.
“Princess Aria,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “I didn’t expect to see you wandering the halls at this hour, shouldn’t you be resting? With your… condition?”
Her pulse stuttered. This man was dangerous. Not only because of his lineage but because his intelligence mirrored her own, sharp and calculating. He didn’t speak carelessly; every word was measured, every glance laden with meaning.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly, concealing the rush of tension beneath a calm exterior. “Books are… comforting.”
He chuckled, a sound that grated against her nerves. “Books? And what could you possibly read at this hour? Remedies for your sickness?”
Her lips curved faintly in acknowledgment. “Perhaps.”
The man leaned casually against a shelf, studying her like a predator surveying potential prey. “It’s a shame, really,” he murmured. “So beautiful… so delicate… so frail. One might even say… cursed.”
Aria’s fingers flexed at her sides, controlling the instinct to lash out. She kept her expression calm, her tone even. “Are you implying something?”
His smirk widened, eyes glinting with malice. “Not at all. Just… sometimes, weakness invites misfortune. Be careful where you tread, princess. Accidents have a way of finding those who least expect them.”
A chill ran through her. His words were not a warning, they were a taunt, a statement of intent. He knew. Perhaps he wasn’t the one who had laced her food with toxins, but he was tied to it, connected to the web of poison and deceit that ensnared her.
---
The young man’s departure left only the soft echoes of his footsteps. Aria exhaled slowly, tension coiling and uncoiling within her. The room seemed quieter now, more intimate, more dangerous. She returned to the books, tracing her fingers across the pages, memorizing each herb, each antidote, each hidden trick that could be turned against an enemy.
Aria’s mind raced, cataloging every detail, storing each clue. He would not escape her memory. When the time came, he would regret underestimating her.
---
Later, back in her room, a subtle movement caught her attention. A soft breeze brushed against her cheek. She froze. The window she remembered closing now stood ajar, letting in the chill of night air.
Her gaze fell to the bedside table. There, a single flower lay as if casually left, yet deliberate in its placement. Crimson petals with a metallic tinge. Aria’s stomach twisted.
Wolfsbane.
A poison by itself mild, but enough to remind her of the constant threat. Enough to send a message; You are watched. You are vulnerable.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted it, inhaling its faintly acrid scent. Slowly, deliberately, she crushed it in her palm, a sharp smile ghosting her lips.
Let them think she was fragile. Let them think she remained a victim.
But they did not know who they were dealing with.
She seated herself, cross-legged, and began mixing small vials of her own concoctions, testing antidotes, refining formulas, blending herbs to counteract the toxins that had been fed to her. Her mind worked with the precision of a surgeon, the creativity of a scientist, and the patience of a strategist. Every subtle taste, every reaction in the vials, was a piece of a larger puzzle. She would unravel it all, and when the time came, she would strike with precision.
Her wolf stirred beneath the surface, a deep, steady pulse of anticipation. It was the first time she felt aligned with her own body since waking in this world. This body, weak though it seemed, was her instrument. Her mind, sharper than any blade, was her weapon. And together, they would carve justice.
As the night deepened, Aria’s resolve solidified. No longer the fragile daughter, no longer the pawn in someone else’s game. Every whisper in the halls, every shadow lurking in corners, every glance of curiosity or malice, she would anticipate them, outthink them, and survive them.
When the sun rose, she would greet her parents with the same pale, obedient smile they had always expected. But behind closed doors, her preparations would continue. Every day, every night, brought her closer to unveiling her true self.
And when the first move was made, the Alpha’s daughter would no longer be a victim of circumstance. She would be the storm.
