Lia felt heavy and numb. Her body wouldn't move, and her eyes seemed glued shut no matter how hard she tried to open them. A chill spread through her, sharp and biting, as though she were standing alone in a cold, empty room.
A steady beeping sound filled the air. It sounded like the machines used in hospitals. But that made no sense—she had fallen asleep in her cousin's bedroom. Panic tightened her chest as confusion flooded her mind.
After struggling, she finally managed to pry her eyes open. A high ceiling stretched above her, pale and empty. The air was cold and smelled faintly of melting candles. Her heart raced as she realized she wasn't in her cousin's room anymore.
She tried to sit up but couldn't. Her wrists and ankles were strapped down to a bed—tight leather bindings cutting into her skin. Her breathing quickened as she turned her head left and right. The room was large and bare, with no windows and barely any furniture.
To her right, a young man lay hooked up to a life support machine. His face was hidden behind a breathing mask, and only his dark hair and broad frame were visible beneath the thin blanket. The steady beeping of his monitor mixed with the pounding of her heart.
In front of her stood an altar covered with burning white candles of different sizes. Behind it were three large statues shaped like people, their faces blank and smooth.
A woman with gray hair tied in a neat bun knelt before the altar, dressed in a plain white robe. She whispered something under her breath, quick and low—like a prayer.
Lia's gaze dropped to herself—and her stomach flipped. She was wearing a wedding dress. White lace wrapped tightly around her body, delicate but wrong.
"What the fuck!?" Lia's voice cut through the room like a sharp crack.
The gray-haired woman's head snapped up. Slowly, she stood and turned toward Lia, her beady dark eyes cold as ice.
"You weren't supposed to wake up," the woman said, her tone flat. "That idiot aunt of yours didn't give you enough of the drug."
Lia's chest tightened. "What the fuck are you talking about? What is this? Why am I tied down?" The words rushed from her mouth, fast and frantic.
The woman's expression didn't change. "Calm down. Getting upset won't change anything."
"You're not the one tied to a bed in a wedding dress, you psycho!" Lia shouted, her voice shaking.
"Watch your language, young lady," the woman said sharply.
"Let me go!" Lia struggled, pulling hard against the straps. Pain shot through her wrists.
"That's not possible," the woman said, her voice calm. "You've been chosen to sacrifice your pathetic little life for a greater purpose."
Lia's breath caught. Her eyes darted toward the man on the life support machine, then back to the altar. Pieces started falling into place—the family dinner, the strange taste in her drink, the sudden sleepiness. Her family had drugged her and handed her over to this woman, who clearly thought killing her would somehow save that young man.
"I'll pass," Lia said, forcing a weak smile. "I think I'd rather keep my pathetic little life. No hard feelings, right?"
The woman glanced at her watch, her lips curling into a thin smile.
"I'm afraid that's not an option."
Without warning, the woman crossed the room, grabbed a dagger from the altar, and rushed toward Lia.
"Wait—" The word barely left Lia's throat before the cold bite of metal drove into her chest.
Pain bloomed, hot and savage. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Blood—thick and crimson—spilled from the wound, running down her sides like the petals of a dark flower in bloom.
Lia's vision blurred. The last thing she saw was the woman's cold smile before the world dissolved into black.