Chapter 6 Beneath the Stone Heart of Drakovia
Lyanna
The massive doors groaned open, and the stench hit me like a wall — damp stone, sweat, and something sourer clinging to the air like rot. Smoke-blackened rafters disappeared into shadow far overhead. Omegas filled the chamber, kneeling in shaking rows, eyes hollow and unfocused. Alphas prowled around them, slow and deliberate, like wolves choosing their next kill.
My gaze swept the chaos. A flinch here, a twitch there — tiny cues I clung to in place of sound. My mask stayed tight: mute, deaf, watchful. Invisible.
Some omegas were taken the moment they entered. A laughing nobleman yanked a girl from the line, dragging her behind a curtain. Another was shoved to the ground as men ripped off her veil and jeered. I swallowed, my breaths thin and barely there.
A shadow crossed over my feet.
I looked up — a high-ranking alpha was striding straight toward me. His boots struck stone like a judge announcing a sentence. His eyes raked over me, clinical and hungry. He reached through the cage bars and lifted my chin with two fingers. His touch was firm. Cold. Entitled.
A shiver shot through me, impossible to contain.
Then his hands closed on my clothes — tearing them as if they were paper. My muscles locked. Panic surged sharp and bright. A scream clawed up my throat, desperate to escape, but silence was the only power I had left. My fingers curled around the iron bars until my knuckles went bone-white.
Bootsteps. A shift of air.
And suddenly Marek was there, stepping between us like a wall made of flesh and fury.
The alpha’s grip faltered.
“What do you think you’re doing, soldier?” the man spat, grabbing Marek by the collar of his uniform. “Step aside. She’s being assessed.”
Marek didn’t budge. “She’s assigned to triage first.”
“She’s an omega. Triage is optional.” The alpha leaned in, breath hot with arrogance. “When a field officer wants to test one, you salute and move.”
“She’s assigned to rotation,” Marek repeated, steady as bedrock. “Interfering now disrupts documentation.”
The alpha barked a laugh. “Documentation? I don’t need parchment to take what the law gives me.” His gaze slid past him to me, dark and hungry. “She looks responsive. I’ll judge her usefulness.”
I curled into myself, nails digging crescents into my palms.
Marek’s hand drifted to his sword hilt — not drawn, but deliberate. “Sir… she’s terrified. That’s not a proper test.”
The alpha’s eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning me, one-arm?”
Nearby soldiers stilled.
“You’re crossing a line,” Marek said quietly.
“A line?” The alpha shoved him hard. “In Drakovia, that line doesn’t exist.”
“For as long as I stand here,” Marek murmured, “it does.”
The alpha swung.
Steel crashed. Fists collided. The two men burst into violence — savage, fast, brutal. I pressed myself against the iron bars, heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst. The sounds of their fight echoed through the chamber: scuffed boots, sharp grunts, the hiss of blades scraping.
Soldiers rushed in, dragging them apart. Blood streaked both their faces. Marek, panting, flicked me the smallest nod — a ghost of reassurance — before they hauled him away.
My knees gave out.
I sank to the floor, tremors shaking my frame, and Sera was there instantly. Her arms wrapped around me, steady and warm, letting me cry until my eyes ached and my breath came in shallow, broken pulls.
By the time sleep dragged me under, dawn was already climbing. The stink of the chamber clung to my skin. The fear clung tighter.
Grey light seeped through the high windows when I forced myself upright. Every muscle screamed — my back, my legs, even my ribs from trying not to shake.
Bina arrived briskly. “Work,” she signed.
I glanced toward the open doorway leading deeper into the breeding chambers. Bina shook her head before I could ask anything with my eyes. Relief and dread twisted inside me — spared today, maybe not tomorrow.
Outside, the streets were narrow and choking with smoke. Chimneys spewed black clouds. Iron pipes rattled overhead. We walked past chained omegas kneeling in dirt and gaunt betas scavenging from gutters. Red-and-black murals snarled down from every surface: STRENGTH THROUGH CONTROL.
Bina muttered to herself as she walked. “Three months on the road… cursed alphas wouldn’t have made it that fast without those Aelorian dogs snapping at their heels… gods above, the amount of laundry to be done.”
I stumbled.
Three months.
Three months since I’d crossed the border.
Three months without Rubin’s voice waking me. Without his warmth beside me at night. Without even knowing if he still breathed.
The city constricted around me — stone walls folding inward until I could barely draw air. My stomach clenched so sharply it felt like a fist squeezing from the inside. I swallowed hard, trying to keep the nausea down.
We turned into a courtyard.
Bina paused — then clicked her tongue. “Should’ve executed them at the border,” she groused. “But no… the king wants a look at the troublemakers who held up three of his battalions…”
I followed her gaze—
And the world ground to a halt.
Aelorian soldiers.
My people.
Shackled to iron posts. Bruised. Starving. But straight-backed even in chains. Their armor gone. Their hair hacked short. One of them lifted his head and met my eyes — only a heartbeat, a flicker, but it hit like a blade sliding between my ribs.
Something inside me cracked open.
Had they been chasing the Drakovian packs? Fighting? Bleeding?
For us?
For the omegas dragged away screaming?
Relief tore through me that Rubin wasn’t among them — followed by a tidal wave of guilt so sharp my legs nearly buckled.
Bina kept muttering, shaking her head. “Filthy business… bringing prisoners here. He must want to make an example of himself. The square’s probably being prepared already.”
I tore my eyes away before my grief betrayed me.
We walked on, but each step felt trapped in mud, heavy and choking.
Please, I begged silently.
Let them live. Let Rubin be safe.
Bina led me into the industrial district — rows of steaming laundry halls. The heat swallowed me immediately. Steam, herbs, dirt. The grind of endless labour. I stood at a basin beside Bina and scrubbed until my fingers stung and my shoulders burned.
Hours blurred into each other, sweat soaking into my clothes. My arms shook from the effort, but I forced myself to keep moving — everyone else was pushing through the same misery. I couldn’t fall behind.
Scrub. Rinse. Wring. Fold.
My body worked. My mind ran.
Could I escape through the alleys at night? Blend into the industrial crowds? Climb the pipes? Slip beneath the rails?
Every plan clashed with exhaustion, hunger, and that suffocating ache for home.
Aeloria rose behind my eyes constantly — golden rivers, warm sunlight, Rubin’s hands steady at my hips. The memory hurt. I ached for it like starving. I ached for him.
Night fell hard.
I lay on the cold floor of the working-omega dormitory while Sera breathed softly from her corner. My mind refused to settle — the nobleman dragging that girl, the chained soldiers, the fight, the screams in the alleys. All of it scraped raw against my nerves. I curled into the thin mattress, wishing Rubin’s arms could fold around me.
Movement stirred beside me.
Bina crouched close, voice low, hands moving fast.
“Child,” she whispered and signed at once, “you’re with seed. And they must not know.”
My heart stopped.
I froze, breath caught high in my throat. My hands hovered helplessly — over my stomach, over the floor, reaching for something steady, something real.
I’d suspected… but this…
A heavy bell tolled outside — a long, metallic note that vibrated through the stone walls.
Bina’s gaze flicked toward the window. “That cursed bell…” she murmured. “A death announcement.”
My stomach plunged.
One of the soldiers from earlier? Or someone else entirely? Drakovia’s cruelty never rested, but this — this constant sound of death ringing through the city — made the walls feel too close, the air too thin.
I pressed my palms to my face, swallowing panic. Fear. Grief.
Bina touched my shoulder gently, signing: Sleep. Hide. Survive tonight.
She whispered the words too, barely audible.
“Sleep. Hide in plain sight. Survive tonight. Tomorrow…”
My eyes burned. I closed them, letting the cold stone floor hold my weight. I tried to count my heartbeats, to measure the bell’s ringing, to imagine Rubin — but the nightmares of this place clawed through every thought.
My fingers still tingled from scrubbing. My skin was raw. My mind was frayed.
Bina’s hand tightened over mine — steady, grounding. She signed again, slow and deliberate:
Safe for now.
Our eyes held.
I breathed. Once. Twice.
I would survive. Rubin hadn’t abandoned me. I could not abandon myself.
Sleep finally dragged me under — trembling, aching, clinging to the fragile promise that I would see the sunrise with Rubin again.