Chapter 119

Chapter 119: Chapter 119

The royal family moved through the dark corridors of the palace in silence.

King Aldric led the way, his lantern held high, his expression carved from stone. Behind him walked Queen Seraphina, her hand resting on Freya’s shoulder. The princess was still pale from her injury, her bandaged arm cradled against her chest, but her dark eyes were fierce with determination.

They had not visited the hidden chamber together since the night Soren was brought here. The King had come alone, once or twice, standing in silence before the stone table. The Queen had come more often, whispering to her son through the barrier. But Freya had never been permitted to enter.

Tonight, that changed.

They reached the hidden door behind the tapestry. The King pressed his finger against the sharp protrusion, and a drop of blood welled up and fell onto the runes. The door swung open with a soft hiss.

The chamber beyond was unchanged the four beasts guarding the stone table, the barrier of gold and silver light pulsing gently, the figure lying motionless at the center. Soren looked exactly as he had a month ago. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His dark hair was spread across the stone pillow. His eyes were closed.

Freya’s composure shattered.

"Soren!" She ran toward the table, but the barrier repelled her, pushing her back. She pressed her hands against it, tears streaming down her face. "Soren, it’s me! It’s Freya! Can you hear me?"

The light pulsed faintly. As if in answer.

"He can hear you," the Queen said quietly. "The healer says he’s aware, on some level. He knows we’re here. He just can’t wake up."

"Why not? Why can’t he wake up?"

"The poison." The King’s voice was heavy. "It’s called Nightshade Essence. It was designed centuries ago to kill Lycans. His body is fighting it, but the battle is... slow. And uncertain."

"There has to be something we can do." Freya turned to her parents. "There has to be a cure. An antidote. Something."

"We’ve searched," the Queen said. "The royal healers have consulted every text in the palace library. Lord Eldritch has been researching the poison since the night of the showcase. But Nightshade Essence was designed to have no antidote. It was meant to be a weapon of absolute destruction."

Freya turned back to the barrier, her hands still pressed against it. "Then we find another way. We don’t give up. We never give up."

The King placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. "We won’t give up. I promise you that."

They stood together in the ancient chamber the King, the Queen, and the princess united by grief and hope and the stubborn, unbreakable love of a family that refused to let go.

In the Astrlyn pack’s great hall, Lord Varek paced before the map table, his expression dark with frustration. The guard who had brought the news knelt before him, his head bowed.

"Tell me again," Varek commanded. "What did the witness say?"

"My lord, a farmer from the village of Thornwood reported seeing a young woman matching the princess’s description. Silver hair. Pale skin. She was hooded, but he caught a glimpse of her face when she passed through the market. He said she was with a man tall, dark-haired, well-dressed."

"Eldritch," Varek hissed. "The alchemist’s son. He’s been helping her."

"It appears so, my lord."

"And where did they go? Did anyone follow them?"

"The witness lost them at the edge of the forest. But we have trackers searching the area now. If she’s hiding somewhere in those woods, we’ll find her."

Varek’s hand slammed against the table. "You’ve been saying that for weeks. Weeks! And still she eludes us. Still she hides like a rat in the shadows while I sit here, unable to claim what is rightfully mine."

"Forgive me, my lord. We will redouble our efforts—"

"You will do more than redouble your efforts. You will find her. You will capture her. And you will bring her to me before the month is out." Varek’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord. I understand."

"Then go. And do not return until you have something useful to report."

The guard scrambled to his feet and fled the chamber. Varek stood alone, staring at the map, his fingers tracing the forest where his niece was hiding.

Soon, he thought. Soon, you’ll be mine. And all that power all that Moonblood magic will serve me.

The dream was beautiful.

Nyra stood in a field of moonlight, the grass beneath her feet silver and soft as silk. The sky above her was a tapestry of stars, each one burning with a brilliance she had never seen in the waking world. The air was warm and still, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers and something else something familiar. Pine and leather. The scent of him.

"Soren?" she called, her voice echoing across the endless field.

He emerged from the starlight like a figure stepping out of a painting. He was dressed not in the bloodstained pageantry coat she had seen in her hallucinations, but in the simple training clothes he had worn during their sessions together. His dark hair was tousled. His eyes were warm. He looked healthy. He looked alive.

"Little moon," he said, and his voice was real not the echo of a hallucination, but the voice she remembered from the hut in the Mistwood, from the training grounds, from the quiet moments when he held her and whispered that he loved her.

She ran to him. This time, when she threw her arms around him, he was solid. Real. His arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, and she buried her face in his chest and sobbed.

"You’re here," she wept. "You’re really here. This isn’t a hallucination."

"I’m here." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I’ve been trying to reach you for so long. The bond—it’s still there. Faint, but unbroken. I’ve been following it back to you."

"Where are you? Are you alive? Are you—"

"I’m between. Caught between life and death. The poison should have killed me, but my mother she found a way to preserve me. I’m in a chamber beneath the palace. I can’t wake up. Not yet. But I’m fighting." He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. "I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know that I’m not giving up. And I need you to keep fighting too."

"I’m trying. I’m trying so hard."

"I know. And I’m so proud of you." His dark eyes searched hers. "But you’re in danger, Nyra. Right now. In the waking world. You need to wake up."

"No. I don’t want to leave you. Not again."

"You have to." His voice was urgent now. "Open your eyes, Nyra. Open your eyes!"

"I can’t—"

"Open your eyes!"

She woke with a gasp.

An arrow was embedded in the pillow where her head had been a moment before. The fletching was still quivering from the force of the impact. If she had not moved—if Soren’s voice had not pulled her from the dream she would be dead.

She rolled off the bed and grabbed her dagger from the table. Her heart was pounding. Her blood was singing with adrenaline. Outside the hut, she could hear the sounds of men moving through the forest heavy footsteps, the clink of armor, the low murmur of voices.

Varek’s men. They had found her.

"It seems it’s time to fight," she murmured.

She strapped her dagger to her thigh, grabbed her short sword from beside the door, and stepped outside.

The clearing was filled with soldiers. At least a dozen of them, dressed in the silver and blue livery of the Astrlyn pack. They had surrounded the hut in a loose semicircle, their weapons drawn, their expressions hard. At their center stood a captain a tall, scarred man with cold eyes and a cruel smile.

"Princess Nyra," he said, his voice dripping with false courtesy. "Lord Varek sends his regards. He requests the pleasure of your company."

"You can tell my uncle," Nyra said, raising her sword, "that I’m not in the mood for family reunions."

The captain’s smile widened. "I was hoping you’d say that."

He lunged.

The fight that followed was brutal and desperate. Nyra had trained for this trained for weeks, trained until her muscles screamed and her bones ached but training was not the same as battle. The soldiers were experienced. They were coordinated. And they outnumbered her twelve to one.

She killed the first soldier with a strike to the throat, spinning away before his body hit the ground. She caught the second across the chest with her dagger, the blade biting deep. But the third soldier was faster. His sword caught her across the arm, and she gasped in pain, stumbling backward.

They surrounded her, closing in like wolves around wounded prey.

"You’re outnumbered, Princess," the captain called. "Surrender now, and Lord Varek might show you mercy."

"Mercy?" Nyra laughed, blood dripping from her arm. "My uncle doesn’t know the meaning of the word."

She raised her sword, ready to fight to the death.

And then the silver light came.