|chapter 10|
|chapter 10|
|Talitha|
The Alpha King's order cleaves through me like a blade to the stomach, leaving me gaping open to the world as I flounder.
“W-What?” I rasp, the word catching in my throat. For a heartbeat, I believe that my ears must be playing tricks on me, but when I turn to look at Mother Elvyra standing beside me, I notice, yet again this eve, that her ever-serene composure has slipped, baring her emotions plainly to me, which reads: surprise, sympathy, and what appears to be a dawning realisation that I cannot fathom.
The sight snaps me out of my haze, forcing me to face the truth—that this is my harsh reality and not some fever dream that had snaked its way into my subconscious.
“No,” I shake my head vehemently, stumbling back a step. “That can't happen. I— No, I’m not going anywhere with you!” My voice cracks loud enough to echo across the fields.
The King's expression shifts yet again, hardening into something colder than winter steel. “Talitha,” he warns, “do not test me any further than you already have.”
The obvious threat in his voice makes my bones shiver but defiance trumps my fear as it surges up my chest like a tidal wave. “I don’t even know you! You can’t just drag me off like—like a stack of hay!”
His jaw clenches tightly, and in the sliver of fading sunlight, I see a flicker of something resolute and ruthless blaze through his eyes.
“You will come, Talitha,” he says, tone gritty and ominous, “or your friends, your loved ones… your entire village will pay the price.”
A ripple of horror sweeps through the crowd at the King's words, terrified gasps rising here and there. Mother Elvyra stiffens beside me, her grip tightening on my hand this time. Eunice lets out a sob, while Tyler buries his face into his hands.
And as for me, my legs simply give out but I'm thankfully held up in time by Mother.
“No,” I whisper, my voice a quivering thread as I shake my head. “Please, Your Majesty. Please don’t do this.”
The Alpha King only stares at me, his gaze empty of any remorse or mercy. “You have until nightfall to make your decision. Return to my palace with me… or watch this town burn.”
The words punch the air out of my lungs, but before I can muster up more pleas, he turns then, his cloak sweeping behind him like a dark tide as he begins to match away. He’s halfway across the clearing when suddenly—
“Your Majesty, please wait!”
Mother Elvyra’s voice rings clear amidst the heavy atmosphere, slicing smoothly through the tension like a hot knife through churned butter.
The King pauses, then ever so slowly, he pivots back toward her, a single brow raised in warning. “Speak wisely, priestess.”
Mother bows low, her entire form stiff yet admirably resolute. “I implore that you grant her more time to make her choice, Sire. She has been shaken by today’s revelations, understandably so. Any soul would falter under such upheaval.”
The Alpha King's gaze flicks back to me—where I'm standing barely upright, a sheen of cold sweat blanketing my body while my heart palpitates so quickly I feel lightheaded—and for a breath, something almost humane flickers behind his iron mask. Almost.
“Nightfall is enough time for her,” he insists stubbornly.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is not,” Mother Elvyra counters gently, uttering such risky words yet still pressing on. “Allow her till morning’s light at least. Let her gather herself first, speak with me, and understand the gravity of what the Fates have woven into her life. A frightened heart yields only chaos, Sire, but a steadied one… may yet yield obedience.”
The King's jaw flexes at Mother's words, irritation crackling around him like sparks off a blade. He evidently does not like being advised on anything, let alone being countered or told what to do. But after a long, tensed moment drawn out in silence and contemplation…
“Very well,” he finally concedes and the breath the entire town had been holding finally releases in a collective sigh.
“You have until dawn,” The Alpha King says, his voice low and filled with warning as he advances closer, eliminating more than half of the distance between us with one large step. “When the sun rises tomorrow, I will return for your answer. And hear me clearly, Talitha—if you attempt to flee, to hide, or to stir rebellion yet again, I will be forced to respond in ways you will regret.”
His amber eyes, blazing and unflinching, lock on me one last time this eve, holding me unwillingly captive in their depths. “You are mine, little mate,” he whispers into the air between us, voice like a vow carved in stone, “and I will not be denied. I will take you back with me, even if I have to hoist you over my shoulder, kicking and screaming all the way there.”
Then he turns around sharply and strides away, the ground seeming to tremble under each step. In the distance, his warriors follow, leaving behind only a trail of tension so thick it could suffocate us all.
The moment his formidable presence disappears beyond the ridge, my body gives out entirely, and I collapse to my knees, uncaring of all the eyes that must be on me, as my chest tightens painfully, my heart constricting as though a phantom hand was giving the organ a tight squeeze. My vision blurs and my fingers dig into the dirt as a strangled sob wrenches out of me, raw and ungraceful, yet the excruciating feeling doesn’t stop there.
My breaths grow shorter, even more frantic, and I can’t seem to pull in enough air. The world around me sounds muffled and distant, as if I have been submerged underwater, while my heart thrashes wildly, then stutters, then races again.
A panic attack—swift and merciless—crashes over me.
“Child,” Mother Elvyra breathes, her voice cutting through the chaos like a beacon of light through fog.
Warm, steady hands cup my cheeks while another presses between my shoulder blades, grounding and anchoring me. “Look at me, Talitha. Come back to your breath now. In… and out. That’s it. You are safe. No harm shall touch you, not while I draw breath.”
Her forehead rests gently against mine—a gesture both sacred and soothing. “Stay with me, dear child. Breathe with me,” she whispers, guiding me through slow, deliberate breaths until my lungs finally start to obey.
The ringing in my ears dulls and my heart eases its frantic assault. The world steadies, inch by inch, until the twilight air becomes breathable again. I sag forward, trembling and beyond exhausted, but Mother Elvyra’s arms act as a shelter against the terror still lingering at the edges of my mind.
And as the hush of the field settles around us, one truth becomes starkly and unbearably clear—
Dawn is coming.
And with it… him.