CHAPTER 52: Chains of Fate: The Unseen Threats
CHAPTER 52: Chains of Fate: The Unseen Threats
Just as Jade entered the cell where Aurora was held, he crossed paths with his mother, who was departing in silence.
Aurora raised her gaze and asked dryly, “Have you come to finish what your mother began?”
He sighed and seated himself upon the stool within the cell. “Why do you persist in this manner? You ought to face your fate with a full stomach,” he remarked, casting a glance toward the scattered contents of the meal he had brought—now strewn across the floor.
“You might at least have brought something palatable,” she replied with a mocking smile. “Even a rat would turn its nose at that slop.”
“Then you are clearly not hungry,” he returned. “When the Alpha comes, you shall be surprised at how dearly you will long for that very ‘rat food.’”
“Why do you treat a mate thus?” she retorted, her voice edged with mirthless amusement. “Ought we not speak of that matter?”
Her words brought him to a sudden halt. He met her gaze, and for a breath, neither of them spoke.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Jade turned swiftly to see Aria approaching.
He stood, astonished.
A scoff escaped Aurora ’s lips, drawing both their attentions. “Look at that,” she sneered. “I must be quite the spectacle today. Everyone comes to gaze upon the prisoner.”
Without averting her eyes from Aurora , Aria spoke with quiet authority. “May I speak with her—alone?”
Jade bowed his head respectfully. “As you wish, my lady.”
With that, he turned and took his leave, the door creaking closed behind him.
“How does it feel?” Aria asked, her voice echoing softly off the damp stone walls as she stepped fully into the dungeon cell. “To be chained like a criminal in the very darkness you once cast upon others?”
Aurora gave a bitter scoff. “Have you come to gloat, then?”
Aria jaw tensed. “You should feel the weight of shame upon you. Your mother has done all in her power to shield and elevate you, and yet you’ve embraced her cruelty with pride, as if it were a virtue.”
She crouched lower, her voice dropping to a steely whisper. “I do not come as judge or jury for your mother’s sins, as the world surely will. I come with a promise.”
Aria leaned in, their faces but inches apart. “You may harm me and think yourself clever, but when your malice reaches those I hold dear, I shall repay you tenfold. Should word reach you that your mother is dead—make no mistake. I saw to it myself.”
Aurora ’s eyes burned with rage. “Do not touch her,” she spat, her body trembling as she fought to shift, but the silver bindings shackled her to the stone wall with cruel precision.
“Worry not,” Aria said coldly, rising to her feet. “I do the world a favour by removing a serpent from its midst. Cling to whatever memory of her you possess, for it shall be the last.”
“You cursed wench!” Aurora shrieked, thrashing violently against the chains, her voice filling the dungeon with fury and hate.
But Aria was already turning, her cloak brushing against the cold flagstones as she departed, her silence more damning than any word.
\---
“We are in grave peril, my lords,” said High Lord Rhovan, his voice low yet urgent as it echoed within the stone chamber. “If we do not find means to bring an end to Demetrius , he shall most assuredly bring an end to us.”
“He possesses naught to use against us,” Lord Alister replied dismissively, reclining with ease. “The people trust our word, not his.” At that, Lord Garrick gave a small nod of agreement.
Rhovan gave a dry scoff. “Do you hear yourself, Alister? That boy is not without cunning. Mark my words—he is laying something in wait. We must see it undone ere it reaches the ears of the people. You forget, perhaps, how we ourselves came into power?”
A heavy silence followed his words, thick with memory and the weight of truth.
“There has been talk,” Garrick spoke at last, drawing the attention of the others. “Whispers among the covens. The witches speak of a prophecy—they call it the Prophecy of Doom.”
“What nonsense is that?” Alister barked with a short laugh, but Rhovan lifted a hand, commanding silence.
“Speak,” Rhovan said, eyes narrowing.
“They say,” Garrick continued, “a man shall rise—one born of more than one gift. He shall cast us down and bring ruin upon all we built.”
The chamber stilled, breath held tight in the throats of the gathered lords.
“A man of more than one gift?” Rhovan mused aloud, brows furrowed. “Is such a being even possible?”
“A hybrid,” Alister murmured grimly, the word falling heavy in the air.
“There are no such creatures,” Garrick said, now quick to dismiss his own report.
“And yet,” Rhovan countered, his gaze sharp, “it may well be Demetrius ”
“Unlikely,” Alister scoffed. “I put no stock in these ramblings. The witches merely seek to rekindle their shattered legacy. Ever since the Twelve Blood Witches vanished, they cling to shadow and legend.”
“Legends often have roots in truth, my lord,” Rhovan replied. “I say it is time we test this Demetrius —before the full eyes of the pack.”
Alister leaned forward, his boots touching stone with a soft thud. “You mean to provoke him? To draw him out?”
“Indeed,” Rhovan said, his tone sharpening. “Let him stand before the people and show his true nature.”
“But how?” Garrick questioned. “He has been most careful in his dealings.”
“We shall find a means,” Rhovan said, a slow smirk curling at his lips. “We always do.”
\---
As Aria walked toward her chambers, she heard it.
“This letter is from the high lords. We must bring him back.”
Aria froze in place, her breath catching in her chest. She quickly stepped aside, concealing herself behind the door.
“You cannot do this. If another discovers it, he will be in grave danger.” The voices paused, the tension thickening.
For reasons she could not explain, when the door creaked open, her heart seemed to shatter.
“Good lord!” She gasped, clutching her chest in anguish.
It was Miriam who had opened the door. “Can I be of assistance, Luna?” she inquired, her tone polite yet laced with a hidden concern.
The room fell into an eerie silence.
“Not at all, Mistress,” Aria replied curtly, her legs moving swiftly as she turned to leave.
Miriam glanced toward Cedric, her voice lowering as she spoke, “We must bring the witch, for she is family.”
Cedric frowned, a look of confusion crossing his features. “Family?”
“The High Prophetess is the Alpha’s grandmother,” Miriam explained, her gaze steady. “Luna Giselle’s mother.”