𝕄𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕪 / ℍ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 / 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 / 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪 / 𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 / 𝔸𝕕𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 / ℂ𝔼𝕆 / 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗
Chapter 3
Adrian’s pulse raced as he stepped forward from the blue door’s mist into a world that felt more hostile, more alive, and infinitely more dangerous. The air was thick, almost viscous, carrying the scent of iron, wet stone, and something faintly floral but rotten—like the decay of a forest that had been alive for centuries. Mist curled along the ground, curling around jagged black rocks that jutted like claws.
The werewolf moved beside him, untransformed, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. Adrian noticed the tension in every muscle, the way his shoulders coiled like springs, ready to leap or strike. And yet, there was a calm to him—a dangerous, magnetic calm that both reassured and unnerved Adrian.
“This is different,” the werewolf murmured. “The third door… it tests fear, and desire at once. The first was instinct. The second, willpower. This one… it tests the soul.”
Adrian swallowed, feeling a shiver run down his spine. Each word the wolf spoke carried weight, not just as advice but as a subtle warning. The third door awaited ahead—a pulsating crimson aura against the black mist, almost like it was bleeding into the world around it.
“I’m ready,” Adrian said, voice low but steady. He had faced the first two doors, survived creatures that should have torn him apart, resisted temptations that could have broken a weaker mind. He could survive this too—he had to.
The moment they approached, the air thickened, vibrating with power. Shadows twisted, forming shapes that Adrian recognized as memories—not just his own, but glimpses of countless others who had stepped before him. Faces contorted in fear, desire, despair, and ecstasy flickered in the crimson mist, each one a warning of what lay ahead.
From the mist, figures emerged—tall, grotesque, humanoid but warped. Their skin glistened like wet stone, and their eyes burned red like molten coals. They moved with unnatural precision, circling Adrian and the werewolf, whispering in a language that felt like it slithered into his mind.
Adrian’s fingers tightened around his dagger. The werewolf growled low, stepping protectively in front of him. “Do not hesitate,” he warned. “Every pause is weakness here.”
The first figure lunged. Adrian’s reflexes were lightning-fast, dagger slicing through the creature’s shoulder, yet the shadow recoiled, reforming instantly as if nothing had happened. He barely had time to process before two more attacked from different angles.
The werewolf transformed mid-motion, fur bristling, claws extended. He tore through one figure effortlessly, while Adrian struck another with a precise thrust of his blade. The dance of battle was brutal, chaotic, and exhilarating. Every strike, every dodge, every coordinated move between them was a rhythm of survival.
And then he felt it—the pull. Not from the door this time, but from the werewolf beside him. A low hum of awareness, of connection, of something dark and intimate. Heat pooled in his chest, making his movements sharper, his reflexes faster, his mind clearer, even as danger pressed from all sides.
A figure emerged from the crimson mist, different from the others. Tall, robed in black with silver streaks, eyes glowing deep red, radiating power, seduction, and menace all at once. The creatures recoiled from it, hissing but obeying some unseen command.
“You’ve come far, Adrian Vale,” the figure said, voice like silk over steel. “But how far will you go when faced with your deepest fears… and desires?”
The werewolf snarled, stepping closer. “Do not engage,” he warned. “Do not let it seduce or manipulate you.”
Adrian’s heart pounded. The pull from the figure was intoxicating. The power it radiated whispered promises of dominion, knowledge, and… something darker, something forbidden. And yet, the magnetic presence of the werewolf beside him anchored him, reminding him of loyalty, desire, and the dangerous intimacy he felt toward him.
The figure raised a hand, and the crimson mist thickened, solidifying into specters—shadows of people from Adrian’s past, memories twisted into threats. Faces of those he had betrayed, feared, or lost surged forward, their eyes hollow, voices mocking, crying, begging, demanding.
Adrian staggered, heart hammering. The dagger felt impossibly heavy in his hand, and for a moment, he questioned his strength. But then, the wolf pressed against him, golden eyes locking on his. The connection between them surged like electricity. Every nerve, every instinct, every pulse of blood seemed synchronized with the werewolf’s presence.
He could survive this. He could fight. He could resist.
And then the battle became a blur. Shadows lunged, screams and whispers intertwined, mist and crimson light swirling. Adrian struck with precision, the werewolf beside him, a predator and partner, golden eyes flashing, teeth bared. They moved as one, instinctive, perfect, dangerous.
Finally, after an endless barrage, silence fell. The crimson door pulsed softly, watching. The twisted figures vanished, leaving only faint echoes of whispers in the mist. Adrian sank to one knee, chest heaving, sweat and mist mingling on his skin.
The werewolf stepped beside him, brushing a hand against his shoulder. Golden eyes softened, almost intimate, and Adrian felt warmth, desire, and danger all at once.
“You survived,” the werewolf said. “But the next doors… will be harder. Darker. And the stakes… higher.”
Adrian nodded, swallowing hard. He had passed another trial, but he felt the weight of what was to come. Every door, every challenge, every pull of desire and danger would shape him, consume him, and change him.
And he realized, with a shiver, that he didn’t just survive for himself. He survived for the bond he felt with the wolf beside him—a connection of danger, trust, and something far darker.
Ahead, faintly glowing in the distance through the crimson mist, the next door waited. Silver, flickering with light and shadow, humming with an almost sentient pulse. Adrian rose to his feet, tightening his grip on the dagger.
The trials of the Thirteen Doors had only begun, and he was ready.
The crimson mist swirled violently as Adrian and the werewolf stepped forward, leaving the remnants of the shattered shadows behind. Every step felt heavier, charged with the energy of the third door, and the air seemed to thrum with whispers—voices that were almost familiar, yet warped by some cruel magic.
Adrian’s grip on the dagger tightened. Each movement was deliberate now, every strike measured, every instinct sharpened. The creatures of the door had vanished for a moment, but the presence of the robed figure lingered, unseen yet palpably close. He could feel the pull of temptation and fear mingling, tugging at his mind with a seductive intensity.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” the werewolf murmured, low and intimate. “The energy… the hunger… the pull. It tests more than strength or skill. It tests… connection.”
Adrian’s chest tightened. His eyes met the wolf’s, and heat flared where their gazes met. The magnetic tension was undeniable, making his blood burn and his thoughts scatter even as danger lingered in every shadow.
Suddenly, the crimson mist thickened into solid forms. Shadows elongated, then twisted into monstrous humanoid figures with eyes glowing red-hot and claws that scraped the stone ground with metallic screeches. They lunged at them with inhuman speed, circling, whispering threats that slithered directly into Adrian’s mind.
The werewolf transformed mid-leap, fur bristling, claws extended, teeth bared in a snarl. Adrian followed instinctively, dagger flashing in arcs of precision. They moved together, seamless, a deadly dance born of trust and danger, every movement sharpened by adrenaline and the pulse of dark energy around them.
One of the humanoid creatures lunged at Adrian from behind. He barely turned in time, the dagger slicing through its arm as it hissed in pain, reforming immediately like liquid shadow. The constant regeneration was maddening, each strike a test of patience and skill.
“You must focus!” the werewolf growled beside him. “Do not let the pull distract you!”
Adrian’s mind fought the magnetic lure—the whispers of the door, the intoxicating presence of the wolf, and the latent power the third door exuded. Desire and danger intertwined in his veins, threatening to distract him, to weaken him. But he couldn’t falter. Not now.
He lunged forward, blade striking a creature squarely in the chest. Blue fire erupted where the dagger connected, consuming the shadow, leaving only ash and a faint echo of a scream. The werewolf tore through another, claws rending shadows that tried to coil around Adrian’s legs. Together, they pushed forward, momentum carrying them closer to the crimson door.
From the mist, the robed figure emerged once more, steps slow, deliberate, each movement radiating power and menace. “Courage and strength alone will not carry you,” it said, voice like silk laced with steel. “This trial demands sacrifice, truth, and surrender… of the heart.”
Adrian’s gaze flicked to the werewolf. Golden eyes narrowed, muscles coiled, every fiber alert. He understood the warning. Desire could be as deadly as any blade. Yet he felt something dangerous, forbidden—a pulse of connection, a dark intimacy that made him aware of every nerve, every heartbeat, every inch of proximity between them.
The figure raised its hands, and a wave of crimson energy surged toward Adrian. The mist condensed into visions—memories of loss, betrayal, and longing, each one sharper, more vivid, designed to break his resolve. The creatures surged again, shadows intertwining with memories, forming a nightmarish tide of fear, desire, and despair.
Adrian’s chest heaved. He felt the pull, the temptation, but the werewolf pressed against him, golden eyes locking with his. In that single, intimate moment, clarity came—a sharp, electrifying certainty. He could survive this. He could fight. And he could protect the connection that bound him to this creature, this fierce, intoxicating presence that had become more than companion.
With a guttural growl, the werewolf leapt forward, tearing through the shadow-creatures with unmatched ferocity. Adrian followed, dagger striking with precise, deadly intent. The dance of survival continued, a symphony of blood, shadow, and fire.
Finally, the wave of attacks ebbed. The crimson mist recoiled, leaving silence, broken only by the ragged breaths of the two survivors. Adrian staggered, leaning against the werewolf, his body trembling from exertion and the intensity of proximity. The wolf’s golden eyes softened, almost tender, as if recognizing the bond that had formed—not just through battle, but through trust, danger, and a shared thrill that bordered on forbidden desire.
The robed figure faded into the mist, leaving the crimson door pulsing faintly, a heartbeat that mirrored Adrian’s own. He realized then that every trial, every shadow, every whisper of temptation, was designed to test him—not just his skill, but his heart, his mind, and the depth of his connection with the wolf beside him.
Adrian straightened, dagger still ready, chest heaving. Ahead, faintly shimmering through the lingering crimson mist, the fourth door awaited. Silver and jagged, humming with a sentient energy that promised even greater danger, more forbidden temptations, and trials that would push them to the very edge.
The werewolf brushed close, a low growl vibrating through him. Adrian felt the familiar heat, the intimacy, and the unspoken promise of partnership, danger, and something darker, something thrilling.
“Together?” the wolf asked, golden eyes locking on his.
Adrian nodded, heart pounding with a mixture of fear, desire, and exhilaration. “Together.”
The trials were far from over. But Adrian Vale was ready—for the fourth door, for the creatures, for the darkness, and for the forbidden pull that bound him to the wolf beside him.
The silver door shimmered ahead, jagged edges cutting into the thick mist like shards of ice. Its hum was sharper now, almost like a heartbeat laced with malice, and Adrian felt it resonate in his bones. Each step toward it felt heavier, charged with the energy of trials yet to come, yet he could not stop. He wouldn’t.
The werewolf walked beside him, untransformed, golden eyes scanning the misty terrain with careful precision. Adrian felt the pull again—that magnetic, almost intoxicating tension—his senses heightened, chest burning with every subtle movement of the creature next to him. It was a connection he couldn’t explain, something dangerous, thrilling, and utterly consuming.
“Silver,” the wolf murmured, voice low, almost a growl. “The fourth door tests control, restraint, and the strength of desire. Do not falter. You cannot let fear—or temptation—overpower you.”
Adrian swallowed hard. The last trials had tested his skill and his heart, but this… this felt different. The air around the silver door pulsed, vibrating with an almost sentient intelligence. He could feel it probing his mind, teasing out weaknesses, whispering possibilities that were dark, intoxicating, forbidden.
The mist ahead shifted violently, coalescing into humanoid forms. Unlike the previous doors, these were taller, angular, with faces obscured in shadow, hands tipped with blades of silver that glimmered as they moved. Their silence was more terrifying than the growls of the previous creatures, each step deliberate, precise, a predator stalking prey.
Adrian gripped his dagger tighter. The wolf stepped closer, golden eyes narrowing, fur bristling as his form shifted in subtle anticipation. “Watch their rhythm,” he whispered. “Strike only when opportunity appears. They are not merely physical threats—they test your mind, your perception.”
The creatures lunged simultaneously. Adrian dodged instinctively, rolling to the side as one blade scraped past his shoulder. Pain flared, sharp but manageable. The werewolf moved with him, claws rending shadows and flesh in precise, terrifying arcs. Each strike, each dodge, each coordinated movement was a symphony of survival, the air around them thick with tension, fear, and exhilaration.
Adrian’s gaze flicked at the wolf repeatedly, golden eyes locking with his. Heat pooled in his chest, a dangerous surge that made his body hum. The proximity, the shared danger, the intensity of the fight—all fused into something electric, almost forbidden, thrilling beyond comprehension.
From the silver mist emerged a figure—tall, robed in gleaming silver threads, face hidden beneath a hood. Their presence exuded power, elegance, and menace simultaneously. Shadows recoiled from them, and even the humanoid creatures hesitated, bowing subtly in deference.
“You’ve come far, Adrian Vale,” the figure intoned, voice smooth, sharp, and hypnotic. “But the fourth door demands more than skill or courage. It seeks mastery over desire, over control, over the darkness within.”
Adrian felt the pull immediately. Energy radiated from the figure, whispering promises of knowledge, power, and secrets—dark, forbidden, intoxicating. The wolf growled low beside him, pressing subtly against his side, grounding him, anchoring him, heightening every nerve, every instinct, every heartbeat.
Adrian knew he could not falter. Not now. Not when the bond between him and the wolf had grown into something dangerous, intimate, and utterly consuming.
The humanoid creatures surged again, but Adrian and the wolf moved as one—strike, dodge, leap, counter. Their rhythm was flawless, honed through the trials of the previous doors, and yet this challenge demanded more. Mist, shadow, and silver blades intertwined in a deadly dance around them, every strike a test of precision, courage, and control.
The silver figure raised a hand. A wave of energy surged, forcing Adrian to his knees, visions flashing in his mind—memories of betrayal, lust, ambition, and fear, all twisted by the door’s magic into nightmarish illusions. The creatures merged with the visions, attacking in a torrent of pain, desire, and terror.
Adrian’s breath came ragged. The pull of the illusions was strong, seductive, almost overwhelming, yet he felt the wolf beside him, golden eyes steady, muscles coiled, presence anchoring him in reality. Every strike he made was fueled by trust, every dodge by desire, every heartbeat in sync with the creature he had come to rely on—and fear, and want.
Finally, after what felt like endless battle, the illusions shattered. The silver door pulsed, its energy ebbing as the creatures dissipated into mist. Silence fell, broken only by their ragged breathing. Adrian looked at the wolf, and he felt the heat, the tension, the intimate connection. The wolf’s golden eyes softened, almost tender, a reminder that even in the darkest trials, there was a bond that could not be broken.
Ahead, through the dissipating silver mist, the fifth door loomed—black, jagged, ominous, humming with power and danger. Adrian rose, gripping his dagger, chest heaving from exertion and anticipation.
The trials were far from over. But Adrian knew one thing: with the wolf beside him, with the dangerous, thrilling connection between them, he could face whatever horrors awaited.
The fifth door pulsed, a heartbeat in the darkness, whispering secrets, danger, and desire. Adrian stepped forward, ready to confront it, ready for the next trial, ready for the darkness that awaited—and for the wolf who had become more than companion, more than protector, more than danger… more than he had ever imagined.
The black door loomed ahead, jagged and immense, radiating a malevolent pulse that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath Adrian’s feet. Its energy was oppressive, heavy, and alive—as if it could see into his mind, into his heart, into every secret desire and fear. Mist swirled violently around it, thick and suffocating, carrying the metallic scent of blood and decay.
Adrian’s chest tightened. Every instinct screamed caution, every nerve burned with anticipation. He gripped his dagger tightly, fingers white against the hilt. The werewolf stepped beside him, golden eyes narrowed, muscles coiled. There was no need for words; both understood the gravity of this trial.
“The fifth door,” the wolf murmured, voice low and intimate, “tests the ultimate truths: your courage, your fear, and the bond that binds us. Do not falter. Do not hesitate. And above all… do not let desire cloud your judgment.”
Adrian swallowed, feeling the pull of the door like a living entity. It whispered promises of power, secrets, and forbidden knowledge—dark, intoxicating, terrifying. And beneath that pull, he felt the familiar, dangerous heat of the werewolf beside him, the magnetic tension that surged through every nerve, every heartbeat. It was a connection that was both anchor and temptation, danger and thrill.
From the shadows around the door, figures emerged—tall, blackened humanoids with glowing red eyes and jagged claws. They moved silently, circling like predators, their presence suffocating. Adrian felt the pull of the door intensify, each step closer sending waves of energy through him, twisting desire and fear into a potent, almost overwhelming force.
The wolf growled, stepping protectively in front of him. “Strike only when you see the opening,” he warned. “This door feeds on hesitation. On fear. On distraction.”
The creatures lunged simultaneously. Adrian reacted instinctively, dagger flashing, cutting through one shadow before rolling aside to evade another. The werewolf leapt, claws extended, tearing through the attacking forms with brutal precision. Each strike, each dodge, each coordinated movement was a deadly rhythm, a ballet of survival, trust, and something darker—an unspoken intimacy that thrummed between them with every heartbeat.
From the black mist of the door emerged a figure draped in flowing shadow, face hidden beneath a hood, aura radiating power, seduction, and menace. Its voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “Adrian Vale… you have survived much, but will you survive the ultimate trial? Will you confront the truths you hide? Will you surrender… or succumb?”
Adrian’s pulse thundered. Desire and fear collided, twisting his thoughts. The pull from the figure was intoxicating, promising dominion, knowledge, and… something darker, something forbidden. Yet the werewolf pressed close, golden eyes locking with his, grounding him, anchoring him, setting his mind sharp even as his body throbbed with awareness of proximity, tension, and thrill.
The shadow figure raised its hands, and the air rippled with energy. Visions assaulted Adrian’s mind—moments of failure, betrayal, lust, and longing, each one warped, twisted by the door’s dark magic. The black-clad creatures surged again, blending with the illusions, attacking from every angle, feeding off the terror and temptation it created.
Adrian felt the heat of the wolf beside him, felt the magnetic pull, the forbidden intimacy, and drew on it. Every strike became sharper, every dodge more precise. Together, they moved as one, instinctive, deadly, bound by trust and desire and danger. Shadows fell, illusions shattered, and the pulse of the black door grew erratic, almost furious at their resistance.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the attacks ceased. Silence fell over the blackened landscape. The door pulsed once more, faintly, as if assessing, waiting, acknowledging their victory. Adrian sank to one knee, chest heaving, every muscle trembling from exertion and the intensity of the trials.
The werewolf stepped close, brushing a hand against his shoulder, golden eyes softening, almost tender. Desire and relief mingled in Adrian’s chest, a dangerous, thrilling heat that made his pulse race and his thoughts scatter. The connection between them—dangerous, intimate, forbidden—was undeniable.
Adrian looked up at the black door. Ahead, beyond the trials, faint outlines of the sixth door shimmered through the mist—violet, pulsing with a dark energy that promised even greater danger, darker temptations, and trials that would test mind, body, and heart.
The wolf pressed close, low growl vibrating through him. Adrian felt the warmth, the intimacy, the bond that had grown with every trial, every danger, every shared heartbeat.
“Together?” the wolf asked, voice husky, intimate, the words carrying a promise Adrian could feel deep in his bones.
Adrian nodded, gripping his dagger, feeling the heat, desire, and unspoken thrill of the connection. “Together,” he whispered.
The sixth door awaited. And with it, the horrors, temptations, and revelations of the Thirteen Doors would only grow darker, more dangerous… and far more intoxicating.
