Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 113: Icy Memories

Chapter 113: Icy Memories

ADRIAN’S P.O.V.

I held her hand again, feeling the warmth of her palm against mine, a stark contrast to the icy memories I was about to unveil. Juliette’s grip was firm, steadying me as much as I steadied her. Her beautiful eyes burned with curiosity, concern, and an unmistakable determination.

"From this point forward," I said softly, my voice calm but heavy with warning, "the images you’ll see are going to be... dark. They won’t be easy to witness, Juliette. Prepare yourself; and if you need to stop, just say the word."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fiery spirit shining through even in her silence. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Show me, Adrian. I want to understand everything."

I studied her face for a moment longer, my mate, my fierce warrior, and my reason for hope. "You’re way stronger than I gave you credit for, Juliette."

She rolled her eyes at my charm, but I saw the faint twitch of her lips. That was enough for me. I closed my eyes, and she did the same. Darkness enveloped us like a suffocating shroud, and when we opened our eyes, we stood in a damp, cold cell.

The stench of decay and despair assaulted us immediately. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, the sound a cruel reminder of time passing too slowly. Rows of cells stretched endlessly, each one occupied by huddled, broken figures—men and women—some barely older than children.. Their faces were hollow, eyes wide with terror. Some clung to the bars, their fingers skeletal, while others sat huddled in corners, shivering from the cold or their despair.

Young Adrian was one of them.

He sat in a filthy corner, knees pulled to his chest, his head buried in his arms. His body trembled as he fought the cold that seeped through the stones and into his bones. Tears streaked his dirt-covered face, and every so often, his shoulders shook with silent sobs. I watched him as though he were a stranger, my heart clenching despite the centuries that separated us.

Juliette gasped softly, her grip on my hand tightening as she took in the scene. "Adrian...This... this is horrible." Her voice broke, but she didn’t say more. What could she say?

"It was worse than it looks," I murmured, my voice low, not out of respect but because the memories demanded it.

A bone-chilling scream echoed from a nearby cell, followed by a cacophony of agonized wails. Juliette flinched, her eyes darting toward the source of the noise.

"What is that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I gestured toward a group of witches moving methodically between cells, their faces devoid of compassion. One by one, they selected prisoners, forcing a dark, viscous liquid down their throats. The results were immediate and horrifying. Juliette’s eyes darted to a nearby cell where a young girl convulsed on the floor. A witch stood over her, holding the vial of the dark liquid that glinted in the faint torchlight. The witch smiled—a cruel, satisfied grin—as the girl let out one final scream before going still.

"They’re feeding them poison!" Juliette hissed, her voice trembling with anger.

"It’s more than poison," I said evenly, though my jaw tightened. "The witch who took me from my parents was part of this coven," I explained, my tone carefully controlled. "They harvested the young, carried out unspeakable experiments, trying to create something.... Many died. Some... became monsters. And a few, like me, became something entirely different."

Juliette turned to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Adrian... how could they do this? How could anyone do this?"

Before I could respond, the cell door creaked open. The witch approached young Adrian with a whip in her hand. At her appearance, my younger self pressed his back against the wall, his small frame trembling with terror. The witch’s laughter echoed in the cell as she cracked the whip against the floor. "Open your mouth, boy," she demanded.

Young Adrian shook his head violently, his small hands clutching at the wall as though he could disappear into it. Her eyes narrowed, and with a flick of her wrist, his body froze unnaturally, his mouth forced open like a puppet under her control.

"Stop!" Juliette shouted instinctively, though she knew they couldn’t hear her. I felt her rage radiating like a storm beside me.

The witch poured the substance into Young Adrian’s mouth, ignoring his muffled cries. His body convulsed violently, and he fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Her laughter echoed off the stone walls as she turned and left him there.

"That pain," I said quietly, "was unlike anything I’ve ever known. It lasted a week. But that was just the beginning."

Juliette’s hand shook in mine, her knuckles white from how tightly she was gripping me. "You... you survived this?"

I nodded, and with a blink, we shifted scenes. The cell remained the same, but a week had passed. Young Adrian sat in the corner, no longer shivering, no longer crying. His eyes were blood-red, his canines sharp and predatory.

Juliette stumbled back, gasping. "Adrian... your eyes..."

I nodded grimly. "That’s what the substance did. I wasn’t me anymore," I said softly. "All I felt was hunger. A primal, unrelenting hunger. A hunger that couldn’t be sated by food."

As if on cue, another witch entered, dragging a boy no older than twelve. He threw the begging and crying child into the cell and locked the door, stepping back to observe. The witches gathered, whispering excitedly.

"They wanted to see if their experiment worked," I explained. "And it did."

Young Adrian pounced without hesitation. His hunger, primal and uncontrollable, drove him to sink his fangs into the boy. The child’s screams echoed through the dungeon before fading into silence. The witches clapped and cheered, their experiment a success.

Juliette turned to me, horror and sorrow etched on her face. "And the boy...?"

"He woke again," I said bitterly. Like on cue, the boy’s body twitched, and moments later, he opened his eyes. They were just like mine: blood-red. He wasn’t human anymore.

The witches were very pleased by the results. They watched, celebrating their success. But it wasn’t just about me. They made me create more like me—more monsters.They kept feeding me more and more helpless souls and I kept turning them into creatures to serve their twisted ends. But I refused to remain their puppet forever.

The scene shifted again, and this time, we stood in chaos. Young Adrian had broken free, his cell door twisted off its hinges. Blood coated his hands as he tore through the witches, one after another. Their screams filled the dungeon, spells flying, witches limp bodies thrown against the stone walls, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and vengeance. He killed as many as he could before escaping.

I ran, my younger self desperate for freedom, leaving the carnage behind.

Juliette and I were back in the crystal cave, the present enveloping us once more. She had tears streaming down her face, her fists clenched at her sides.

"Did you ever get your revenge?" she demanded, her voice shaking.

I smirked, the old fire burning in my chest. "Oh, I did. And it was wonderful. But that’s a story for another time."

Juliette wiped her tears and glared at me, her intoxicating eyes blazing, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "You’re insufferable."

"It’s a gift," I said, bowing dramatically. But my voice softened as I added, "For today, this is enough."