Chapter 20
Lyra's POV
But that surge of power lasted only a moment before it receded from within me as swiftly as an ebbing tide.
Three years of accumulated moonfall toxin residue couldn't be broken through by a single burst of rage—those toxins acted like invisible shackles, ruthlessly suppressing the power within my body and preventing it from truly awakening.
The instant my strength faded, my entire body went limp, and the silver chains tightened around me once more, their icy touch and searing pain reclaiming dominion over my senses.
Not a single part of my body remained unscathed—my back, shoulders, and arms were covered with wounds torn open by the silver whip, blood flowing down my body to pool in a small crimson puddle at my feet.
My breathing became shallow and labored, each inhalation tugging at my wounds and bringing fresh waves of agony.
I could feel my consciousness beginning to blur, my body sending me warnings that it had reached its limit.
But I couldn't collapse. I couldn't surrender like this.
Just as I was gritting my teeth to hold on, the iron door of the dungeon was pushed open.
This time, several familiar faces entered—all members of the Redfang Pack who were close to Mira.
Seeing me bound to the pillar, their faces immediately broke into gloating smiles.
"Well, well, if it isn't our noble Lady Lyra," one woman said in a sharp, cutting voice as she approached, looking me up and down with undisguised malice gleaming in her eyes. "How does it feel to poison Mira? Do you finally understand what karma means?"
"I didn't..." I managed to speak, my voice so hoarse it was barely audible. "I didn't poison Mira."
"Still dare to argue?" another man sneered. "Mira is still lying unconscious in bed. The doctor said the toxins in her system run deep—who knows when she'll wake up. A vicious woman like you deserves exactly this fate!"
I wanted to defend myself, to tell them this was all a trap Mira had orchestrated herself, but before the words could leave my lips, the woman shouted at the nearby guard, "She still dares to talk back! Keep beating her—let her properly reflect on her mistakes!"
At the group's urging, the guard raised the silver whip once more.
The whip fell across my already mangled back, the tearing pain nearly causing me to lose consciousness, but I clenched my teeth and forced myself not to make a sound, unwilling to let these people see my weakness.
They hurled every vicious insult they could conjure at me, and each time I tried to speak in my own defense, they would incite the guard to strike me again.
My dignity was being stripped away piece by piece—that humiliation was even harder to endure than the physical pain, corroding my heart like poison and filling me with unprecedented despair.
Only when I was covered in wounds and lacked even the strength to lift my head did they finally leave, satisfied. They departed the dungeon with laughter that echoed through the damp corridors, grating and cruel.
The dungeon fell silent once more, leaving only the sound of my heavy breathing and the crackling of torches on the walls.
I hung my head low, blood dripping from my hair onto the ground with soft, rhythmic sounds.
After an indeterminate amount of time, I heard two guards conversing in low voices outside the door.
"The Alpha said not to kill her."
"What's there to worry about?" the younger guard replied dismissively. "As long as she's got a breath left in her. You know how much the Alpha adores Mira. As long as Mira doesn't wake up, he won't care at all whether Lyra is injured—he probably wants her to suffer even more."
Their conversation stabbed straight into my heart like a blade—so in Kael's eyes, my pain and suffering meant absolutely nothing.
Boundless humiliation and sorrow surged from all directions, completely submerging me.
My body had long since been unable to withstand the layers of accumulated suffering, and my consciousness scattered completely in the violent dizziness before my eyes went dark and I plunged into endless darkness.
I don't know how much time passed before a basin of bone-chilling water was dumped over my head, crashing violently against my face.
I choked and coughed as my eyes snapped open, my entire body shaking uncontrollably, cold and piercing pain intertwining together, nearly tearing my nerves apart.
The moment my vision slowly focused, my heart suddenly contracted, and a bone-deep terror shot straight up my spine.
Several men in tattered clothing stood in the center of the cell, their bodies reeking of sour rot and filth, their murky eyes rolling with undisguised greed and malice.
I recognized them immediately—they were exiled wanderers, a group of scum who had been cast out and left to barely survive in dark corners.
My heart began pounding frantically, an unprecedented panic seizing my throat.
I instinctively tried to shrink back, but the heavy silver chains around my ankles had me pinned in place, the chains pulled taut with a dull sound—there was nowhere to escape.
"What... what do you want?" My voice trembled uncontrollably, carrying fear I couldn't suppress.
But they advanced step by step, their faces wearing disgusting, oily grins.
"Don't be afraid, little beauty," the man with a face full of scars said while rubbing his hands together, leering at me with obscene eyes. "This is the Alpha's order. He said you don't follow the rules and need to be properly taught how to behave."
"That's right." The tall, thin one licked his cracked lips, his gaze sweeping over my body without restraint. "This face, this figure—haven't seen one this fresh in a long time. Lucky day for us."
"Don't fight over her, take turns," another man stepped forward, his eyes sticky with revulsion. "The Alpha said as long as we don't kill her, we can do whatever we want with her."
Each sentence fell like a hammer blow upon my heart.
Being falsely accused of poisoning, thrown into the dungeon, tortured with the silver whip—I had endured all of it through gritted teeth. I had told myself I must survive, must uncover the truth about my mother's death, rescue my missing clansmen, and expose all the conspiracies.
I had thought the worst outcome would simply be dying here.
But I never imagined Kael would use this method to punish me.
This was no longer discipline—it was complete and utter humiliation, crushing the last shred of my dignity beneath his heel.
"No... don't..."
I struggled desperately, the silver chains cutting painfully into my wrists and ankles, wounds tearing open with searing agony.
My body was already weak and exhausted, every movement pulling at my injuries, but I still twisted my body frantically, trying to dodge those filthy hands reaching toward me. The silver chains locked me in place—I was like prey nailed to a chopping block, utterly powerless to resist.
My struggles only excited them further, their heavy breathing echoing through the cramped cell.
Several rough, dirty hands reached for me simultaneously, carrying nauseating warmth.
One hand moved directly toward the back of my neck—where a werewolf's gland was located, the most private and vulnerable place. Once bitten and marked there, I would be bound for life.
"Get away from me!"
I screamed hysterically, desperately turning my head to evade, but those hands clamped down hard on my shoulders and neck.
Their breath sprayed across my face, heavy with alcohol and rancid stench, their eyes burning with desire that seemed ready to devour me whole.
Helplessness and terror completely engulfed me.
I tensed my body in despair, closed my eyes, and waited for that irreversible moment to arrive.