Chapter 26 Secret Unveiled
Lira's POV
The temple's interior was a monument to destruction. Twenty years of weather had taken their toll, but the signs of violence were still clear—scorch marks on the walls, deep gouges in the stone floor, and everywhere the lingering scent of old blood and silver.
At the center of it all stood the altar, a massive slab of white marble now stained dark with rust-colored shadows. I approached it slowly, each step sending a dull ache through my body.
I was still limping slightly from our marathon session earlier—Kael had kept true to his word about his stamina, and my whole body was sore. The bastard hadn't given me time to recover before dragging me here. I doubted I could keep up with him if this was how he always was. Each step felt like a weight on my chest, though whether from physical soreness or emotional dread, I couldn't tell.
"This is where they died," I whispered, trying to ignore the way my thighs protested the movement.
Through the bond, I felt Kael's protective instincts surge. He wanted to pull me away from this place, shield me from the pain of seeing where my parents had been murdered. But there was also a flicker of masculine satisfaction at my obvious physical state—quickly followed by guilt for feeling pleased when I was in pain.
Ryn stepped forward hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I remember Garrick talking about this place. When he was really drunk." He paused, gathering courage. "He said your mother... he said she fought. Even when she was—" He gestured helplessly at the altar.
"Fighting for what?" I asked, wincing as I shifted my weight.
"I'm not sure exactly," Ryn admitted quietly, moving closer to the base of the altar with reverent care. "But Garrick would mutter about how she 'bought time' for something. And he'd always get angry about the eclipse, said it 'had to be that night' for some reason." His fingers traced the carved symbols uncertainly. "I never understood what he meant about prophecies, but he seemed to think your birth timing mattered."
I knelt beside the altar carefully, my body protesting the movement. My fingers found the ancient carvings, and the moment I touched the stone, visions exploded behind my eyes.
My mother, pale and sweating, propped against the altar as contractions wracked her body. My father stood guard with his sword drawn, facing a dozen Darkfang warriors. Elder Garrick among them, his face twisted with religious fervor.
"It doesn't have to be this way, Dmitri," Garrick was saying. "Give us the child, and we'll make her death quick and merciful."
"Never." My father's voice was firm. "My daughter will not be your sacrifice."
"Your daughter will be the death of us all if she lives. The prophecy is clear: a child of eclipse brings either salvation or damnation. We won't risk damnation."
The vision shifted. My mother screamed as the final contraction took her. The evening light streamed through the broken roof as the eclipse reached its peak. A baby's cry piercing the night.
"She's here," Vera gasped. "She's perfect."
And then the attack. Silver blades flashing. My father fell with a dozen wounds. My mother used the last of her strength to hide the newborn baby—me—in a hidden chamber beneath the altar, whispering protective wards over her daughter even as Garrick's knife found her heart.
"It's done," Garrick said as Vera's blood pooled on the white stone. "The child is dead. The prophecy dies with her."
But even as he spoke, he was already planning the lie. The story of rescuing a cursed, wolfless child from the ruins. The years of imprisonment that would follow.
I jerked back from the altar, gasping. The visions felt so real I could still taste blood in the air, still hear my mother's dying whispers.
"You saw it," Ryn said quietly. "Didn't you?"
I nodded, unable to speak. Through the bond, Kael felt my anguish and moved to my side, his presence a steady anchor.
"Garrick lied," I finally managed. "He told everyone I was dead, but he knew I survived. He planned to keep me imprisoned from the beginning."
"Not just imprisoned," a new voice said from the shadows. "Broken and convinced of your own worthlessness so you'd never discover your true power."
Elder Garrick stepped into the moonlight, flanked by two younger wolves. His weathered face was haggard, and his amber eyes held the weight of sleepless nights. He looked like a man haunted by his own conscience.
Kael went rigid with shock, then fury. "How the hell are you here? You were locked in the dungeons!"
"Garrick?" Thomas stepped forward, hand on his weapon. "But you're supposed to be"