Chapter 17 Golden eyes
~Lyra’s POV~
Ever since I read that spell aloud, something shifted inside me. I could not tell what it was.
I could not decide if something had been taken from me or if something entirely new had been forced into my being. All I knew was that my fear had vanished. The helplessness and hopelessness that had been clawing at me earlier had melted away like frost beneath sudden heat. It felt as if I had stepped out of my old skin and walked into a newer version of myself, one that no longer cared what became of me.
I lowered my eyes to my thigh, still feeling the faint throb of pain there, and I felt relief when I saw that the stab wound had nearly closed. The cuts on my arms were already completely healed, leaving only faint marks behind, but the stab wound seemed slower than usual, as if something unseen was interfering with my healing. I wondered if the forbidden spell was affecting me in ways I had not yet understood.
The sharp clang of metal against metal jolted me out of my thoughts. A man appeared in front of the cage and unlocked it just enough to shove something inside.
Here is your food. Eat. We will be moving soon, he said, sliding a filthy plate toward me before locking the cage again.
The smell hit me first, thick and foul enough to burn my throat. On the plate were small ball shaped lumps that looked as if someone had rolled them through oil and ash before tossing them in a gutter. The sight almost made me gag. I wanted to look away but my eyes refused to obey.
A wave of longing crashed through me. I found myself wishing, yet again, to be back at Ironfang where meals were edible and meant for human consumption. I forced the thought out of my mind. Ironfang was behind me. This cage, this dirt, this smell, this was my reality now. No one was coming for me. If I wanted freedom from this place, I would have to rip it out of them with my own hands.
“Do you expect me to eat that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the man.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, and I stared at him, wondering what that had to do with my question.
“I am not eating that,” I declared as I pushed the plate away from me.
“Why? Are you not hungry?” he asked again, as if he truly could not comprehend why anyone with functioning senses would refuse the disgusting thing on the plate.
“I am not eating something that looks and smells like shit.”
“The food is meant for your stomach, not for your eyes or your nose. Eat before I force it down your throat.”
“When did eating become something that required force? Leave me alone. I am not hungry,” I shot back with a scowl.
My tone must have struck something inside him because he immediately reached for the lock. He started opening the cage again, and I prepared myself for the worst, but a sudden shout cut the air.
“Ironfang! Ironfang!” One of the rogues screamed, panic tearing through his voice like a blade. In an instant the camp erupted. Men ran in every direction, scrambling over each other like terrified animals.
My heart fluttered with a hope I tried to crush quickly. Ironfang was notorious for attacking settlements and taking prisoners. This could just be one of their raids. I had no guarantee that I would survive it. They had not been particularly thrilled when I had escaped the trial the last time.
While chaos unfolded, I remained trapped in the cage, silently wishing the man had succeeded in opening it a few seconds earlier. But the lock held strong, and all I could do was watch helplessly.
Five vehicles burst into the clearing and their doors flung open almost simultaneously. Ironfang warriors streamed out, shifting even before their feet fully touched the ground. They attacked the rogues with a ferocity that turned the scene into a storm of claws, teeth, and blood. I could hardly track the movements, but one wolf demanded my attention.
He was enormous with black fur darker than the shadows cast by the trees, and with golden eyes that glowed like burning suns.
My heart stopped. I knew those eyes. They had stalked my dreams for so long that I could recognize them in any form, under any circumstance. But I had never seen the face of the man behind them. A part of me prayed I would see it today.
I watched him move through the battlefield like a creature built solely for destruction, graceful and merciless in the same breath. Every strike was decisive. Every bite was final. He was a force unleashed, a nightmare freed from its chains, a being that belonged in a place far darker than the forest around us.
The fight ended with bodies scattered across the clearing. The growls faded. The wolves shifted back to their human forms. All except the black one. His golden eyes remained fixed on me as if I had personally offended him.
When he finally shifted, I felt the air leave my lungs.
Kael?
Kael Thorne?
The eyes from my dreams belonged to him? Why had I been seeing Kael Thorne in my dreams?
Before I could shape that question into words, he was already at the cage. Rage radiated from him in waves as he gripped two bars and wrenched them apart, metal groaning as if crying for mercy. He created an opening large enough for me to pass through.
“Come out,” he said, and I obeyed instantly. He took my hand, firm and unyielding, and led me toward one of the vehicles. He opened the passenger door, waited for me to get in, then walked around and entered the driver’s seat.
The forest swallowed us behind as he drove. Only when we reached the main road did I realize it was still early evening. The darkness within the forest had made it feel like night.
I stayed silent, refusing to look at him. But once we hit the main road, I turned. His jaw was tight with anger, his focus unwavering, but I noticed the injuries scattered across his skin, raw and fresh on his face, hands, and neck.
Without thinking, I reached toward his neck to heal the wound there, but he caught my hand before my fingers could touch him. It was too late. The healing had already begun. His eyes narrowed in confusion and irritation.
“How did you do that?” he asked, trying and failing to conceal the surprise in his voice.
“I am a healer.”
“I told you never to use magic on me.”
“This is not magic. This is healing. It is a form of magic, yes, but not the type that harms. And you clearly are not immune to it.” I said, surprised by how calm I had become in his presence. The fear that used to strangle me was gone.
“Never use magic on me again,” he said.
“Yes, of course. Like leader, like followers,” I muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me. What did you say?”
“I said like leader, like followers,” I admitted, feeling the tension thicken in the car.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your followers got their bad characters from you,” I said plainly, refusing to sugarcoat it. He wanted to know what I meant, so I would give it to him. “Someone does something kind for you and instead of offering a thank you or even silence, you make the person’s life miserable.”
I could have stopped there, but the annoyance in my chest refused to let me.
“I only healed you because you were injured while trying to help me. If not for that, I would not have bothered. Apparently, helping others gets you punished while minding your business keeps you safe. At least that is one lesson you and your people have taught me. The other lessons are completely stupid and my conscience will never allow me to learn any of them.”