Chapter 40 The Sorceress
Lyra didn’t feel her feet touch the ground as the guards dragged her through the dim hallway.
Their grips were brutal, digging into her arms until she winced in pain. Her breath was ragged as panic clawed up her throat.
When they finally reached the iron-barred cell, they didn’t slow down. They shoved her inside with such force that she stumbled and crashed onto the cold stone floor.
The heavy door slammed shut behind her and Lyra scrambled up immediately and rushed to the bars, gripping them tightly.
“Wait! Please, please, I need to speak with my father! Let me talk to him! Please!”
One of the guards paused, gave her a hard glare, and barked, “Shut up, lady!”
“I have to explain! He misunderstood me, I swear this is all a big misunderstanding!”
“I said shut up!” he snapped, stepping forward until his face was inches from hers through the bars.
Then his voice dropped to a growl. “You are no longer Princess Irene. You don’t get our respect and you don’t get special treatment. If you scream again, we’ll beat you till you can’t move. Understood?”
Her throat closed. She swallowed hard and slowly nodded, moving away from the bars in fright.
“That’s better.” He scoffed with a cruel smirk and walked away.
Lyra backed away from the bars and sat down shakily on the cold floor.
Her heart was pounding so loudly she felt dizzy. She hugged her knees, trying to steady her breathing.
Had everything truly fallen apart this fast? She had barely survived two nights in this place and now she was locked in a cell, accused of being an impostor.
Minutes or maybe hours passed and she couldn’t tell.
Then footsteps walked down to the cell and Lyra’s head snapped up.
It was Alexander.
He stopped in front of her cell and at once, Lyra leapt to her feet and grabbed the bars. “Alexander! Thank goodness you came! You have to help me, you have to tell Alpha Darius that this is all a huge mistake!”
Alexander stared at her with a look that was nothing like the warm expression he had given her before. This time, there was only disgust.
“I never would have believed it,” he said coldly. “I never would have believed you had the guts to walk into this pack and try to trick all of us.”
“Please,” Lyra whispered desperately. “I’m not tricking anyone.”
“You’re an impostor!” He cut her off. “I knew it. I knew Irene would never forget my name.”
Lyra blinked rapidly. “No, listen, it’s a long story. I was traumatized on the journey. I was confused, I swear! Alexander, I care about you, I love you. I would never pick Robinson over you.”
Alexander’s eyes widened slowly, then he shook his head.
“Robinson?” he repeated slowly. “His name is Jacobson. How could Irene forget her own lover’s name? And you think you can trick me? Trick all of us? What did you do with Irene?”
Lyra’s stomach dropped. She had truly messed up.
She swallowed, unable to come up with another excuse. She couldn’t lie anymore. Not with his eyes drilling into hers.
“We could still share something,” she whispered weakly. “You know? If you just help me—”
Her words were cut short by a sudden wet impact on her cheek.
Alexander had spat in her face. Lyra recoiled, stunned.
“Never,” he hissed. “You are an enemy of the Titanium Pack. And you will help us bring back Princess Irene, the true love of my life. Either voluntarily…” His eyes hardened. “Or by force.”
Then Alexander turned his back to her without even glancing again and stalked off.
Lyra stayed frozen for a moment, staring at the space where he had been. Her knees buckled, and she slowly lowered herself to the floor again. Tears blurred her vision. She pressed her forehead to the cold bars.
What now? What could she possibly do?
She sat alone in the quiet cage for what felt like forever. Her mind raced in circles until her throat ached with unshed sobs.
Then suddenly, two young women appeared, both clad in simple gray dresses.
The shorter one spoke. “Princess—” She caught herself. “Prisoner. Change into this.”
She held out a long white dress.
Lyra hesitated. “Did my father send you? Did he realize it was a mistake? Am I being freed?”
The taller maid scoffed. “We are simply following instructions. Kindly change into the white dress.”
Their cold tone told Lyra everything she needed to know. They did not see her as their princess anymore. She was now a prisoner.
Her heart tightened painfully, but she slowly took the dress with trembling hands. Turning away, she changed into it quietly.
When she finished, the maids stepped forward and unlocked the cell.
“Come.”
Lyra followed them down the hallway, thinking how hard it would be to run off now. How far would the forest be from this blasted place?
They led her through the dining room and out into the open courtyard behind the main house.
Lyra had never noticed the terrain before. To the left, she recognized the garden where Darius had invited her to talk privately. To the right stood a large fountain, and right behind it was where they were headed.
Lyra froze.
Just beyond the path was a large wooden platform with chains and an iron table.
This looked like an execution post and her stomach twisted violently.
The maids pushed her forward.
Darius stood waiting beside the platform, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him stood a tall, strikingly old woman. Her hair was blood-red, so unnaturally vibrant it almost glowed.
She wore a flowing black dress embroidered with symbols Lyra didn’t recognize.
She looked like a sorceress.
Lyra’s blood ran cold.
Darius didn’t waste time. He pointed to the table.
“Bring her and tie her up.”
“No, wait!” Lyra screamed as the maids seized her arms. “What are you doing?! Let me go!”
But her words meant nothing.
They dragged her onto the cold iron table and forced her down. Leather straps tightened around her wrists and ankles, binding her so tightly she could barely move.
“Please! Please, don’t do this!” she cried desperately. “Father, listen to me! Please!”
Darius didn’t even look at her.
He faced the red-haired woman instead.
“Tell me, Great Sorceress. Is she my daughter Irene?”
The sorceress glided forward and leaned over Lyra, inhaling near her face as if smelling her soul. Then without warning, she produced a silver blade and made a sharp, light cut across Lyra’s lower belly.
Lyra gasped in pain.
The sorceress placed her glowing fingers near the wound and immediately, her voice rose into a humming chant, muttering ancient Ashvale incantations that made Lyra’s skin crawl.
Lyra’s heart pounded as the air itself seemed to vibrate.
Then the sorceress suddenly stepped back and gasped.
Darius’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
Her voice was grave. “She is your daughter, Irene, but another soul inhabits the body.”
Darius looked perplexed. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
The sorceress turned to face him. “This is an ancient, forgotten practice. But she is reborn.”