42. Aria

42

ARIA

T he darkness pressed in on me from all sides. The air was humid, sticking to my skin. Ugh. I tried to lift my hand, but it felt like moving through molasses. My once-vibrant magic was now just a whisper.

“Come on,” I murmured, struggling to sit up. “Stay awake.”

My head spun but I forced myself to stay awake.

“Atticus? ” I reached out with my mind, searching for that familiar thread that connected us. Still nothing.

“Where are you?” I said out loud this time, the words falling flat in the oppressive silence.

The bond had become such a large part of me that always been there, a constant warmth at the back of my consciousness. Now, it was gone. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to fight off the cold realization that I was truly alone.

I stood up on shaky legs. My bare feet scraped against the cold stone floor, the sound grating in the heavy silence. My fingers skimmed the surface of the wall, tracing the curves and lines of runes that I could barely see. Then I touched one directly.

“Ouch!” I jerked back, shaking my hand. A shockwave of energy buzzed through me, my magic flaring up in defense only to be crushed down again.

“Crafty,” I spat out, glowering at the runes. They were designed to sap away my power, to keep me weak. Fear knotted in my stomach, but I ignored it. I had to stay focused.

Caius had me trapped here for a reason. He had to be afraid of what I could do. Caius had mentioned seers, prophets that served him. They couldn’t have seen this coming. Not my capture. Unless...

“Wait,” I whispered, a memory surfacing. He said he had seers. Prophets. There’s no way he meant mine.

An image flashed in my mind: my seer, with eyes that saw too much, warning me of betrayal. Could it be? Did Caius know about him? Had he used him against me?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cursed. The pieces were falling into place, but the full picture eluded me. Whatever his plans were, I needed to get out. I needed to find Atticus.

I leaned against the cold stone, the damp seeping through my clothes. My head ache, and I couldn’t breathe properly in the thick air. The walls told me nothing more.

A bitter laugh escaped me. They didn’t have the key to unlock what was mine. Not yet.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to sense the edges of my magic. It was like reaching through thick fog, feeling for something solid but grasping only mist. My power surged, rebelling against the confines, throbbing with a life of its own. It wanted out, and so did I.

“Easy,” I whispered, trying to soothe the tempest inside.

I took a step, then another, my hand skimming the wall for balance. My chest tightened, my heart pounding so fast it threatened to tear out of my chest.

I couldn’t breathe. Panic clawed at my throat. The room started spinning, the meager light flickering like a dying flame. I stumbled, my legs giving way as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.

My knees hit the ground, but I barely felt the impact. My magic thrashed wildly, a caged beast desperate for freedom.

“Need... air...” I gasped. There was none. Just the weight of captivity, squeezing the life out of me.

Everything faded—the runes, the stone, the lingering hope of escape. There was only darkness, silence, and the slow slip into unconsciousness.

The jangle of keys had me jerking my head up. A guard strode through the door, broad shoulders set as he balanced a tray in his hands. My nostrils flared at the scent of stew cutting through the dank mustiness I’d grown too accustomed to. My stomach gave a traitorous rumble, but I forced it down, focusing on what mattered: escape.

I watched him like a hawk as he neared, the tray hitting the stone floor with a clang that made me flinch. His gait was off. He favored his right leg and couldn’t quite close his left hand. Not a regular injury. Had to be magical, since shifters healed quickly from anything else. I stored away every detail. Each little thing could be the key to getting out of here.

“Enjoy,” he grunted as he swung around to leave.

“Wait!” I called out.

He stopped in his tracks and turned, a scowl forming on his weathered face. “Could you bring me some water?” I asked, injecting a quiver into my words. “I’m so thirsty.”

He studied me. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he weighed my request. My face remained still, a mask of vulnerability complete with big eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

“Fine,” he said in a harsh exhale of air. He turned, footsteps heavy as he moved toward the far end of the room.

Now. It had to be now.

I tensed, ready to spring, watching him with the intensity of a predator tracking its prey. The moment he touched the pitcher, I pushed off the ground, silent and swift.

I closed the distance between us without a sound, drawing from the well of strength inside me—not the magic that ran in my blood, but something more primal.

“Here’s your w—” he started.

I slammed my fist into his lower back, right at the spot where vulnerability had shown itself in his limp. He lurched forward from the impact, a grunt forced from his lungs.

“Wha—” His voice was a mix of pain and surprise. He hadn’t seen it coming. They never did.

I didn’t wait to watch him crumble. I snatched the keys from his belt, fingers closing around the cold metal like a lifeline. Heart pounding, I took off, my feet slamming against the stone floor. A wild laugh almost escaped me. Almost.

“Stop! Thief!” he barked, his voice echoing through the cellar.

I could feel the beginnings of my power stirring within, a trickle where there should have been a flood. No time to shift, not yet. I pushed harder, every step a race between hope and despair as I bolted, the keys biting into my palm. My freedom was mere steps away, each stride a desperate plea to the universe. As quick as I was, the guard was quicker.

“Get back here!”

His heavy steps thundered like drumbeats against the stone floor, growing louder, closer. I didn’t dare look back, didn’t want to waste even a single second of my forward momentum.

His hand clamped around my ankle, and I tumbled to the floor. The keys flew from my grasp, skittering across the floor with a mocking jingle. We rolled around in a tangle of limbs. I tried to fight him off, but I was too weak.

“Let go, “ I spat, throwing a punch in the direction of his face.

“Nice try,” he scoffed, his hand closing around my arm with a grip that felt like it could crush bone. He shoved me toward the cot, and I stumbled, the force of his push telling me escape wouldn’t come easy. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The words ignited something fierce within me. I twisted against his hold, pivoting on my heel and throwing my elbow back hard. It connected with his jaw with a solid crack that echoed in the small space. His head snapped to the side, and for a second, his grip loosened.

I sprinted for the door. The cold stone floor was cut into my bare feet, but I barely noticed. All I saw was the light creeping through the cracks, the promise of freedom, so close I could almost feel the forest air on my skin.

The door was just ahead. I was close, so close. But the guard was on me in a second, his vise-like grip on my waist. I kicked back with my free leg, trying to break his hold. It was no use.

He dragged me away from my only chance at freedom, each pull a crushing weight on my spirit. Struggle as I might, the guard’s grasp was iron-tight, unyielding. The stone floor scraped against my skin, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the despair that gripped my heart.

“Stop!”

When the door slammed shut, the cold, hard reality set in. I was trapped once more. My magic sparked feebly, and I yearned for the wild storm of it in my blood. I pressed my back against the cold stone, trying to ground myself, to find some semblance of stability.

“Focus,” I muttered, closing my eyes. “Shield.”

My hands shook as I placed them palm-down on the floor. Energy surged, but the familiar pathways to my memories, to the mental cabinets where I stored my knowledge, were blocked.

“Come on,” I whispered. “You can do this.”

I envisioned a bubble around me, a shield to keep out the fear and despair. It wavered, translucent and fragile, but it was there. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe that I could regain control, that I wasn’t completely powerless.

I focused on the rise and fall of my chest. The trembling in my limbs subsided slightly, the frantic pounding in my chest easing into a steadier rhythm.

“Control,” I repeated over and over, like a mantra. It was all I had left in the suffocating darkness of my cell.

The chill that crept into my bones matched the hollow dread inside me. My breaths came out in shallow gasps that frosted the air. I had been so close to freedom, but it was ripped away, leaving me with nothing but these four walls that made up my prison.

“Damn it.” The darkness felt alive, a silent observer to my misery. I could almost hear it mocking me, whispering of my helplessness.

I wiped my eyes, angry at the tears that betrayed my resolve. I thought of Atticus then, the way his presence alone could make me feel like I wasn’t just some caged creature.

He didn’t know where I was and what had happened to me. Our plans, our dreams, all those whispered promises, seemed so far away now.

The sobs came hard and fast, choking me. Atticus’s face filled my mind, and I felt the ghost of his strong arms around me, saw the tattoos that told the tale of his history. I had pushed away the one person who saw me for who I truly was, and we were just reconnecting. Now, the biting loneliness reminded me of my foolishness.

“Stupid,” I gasped out between cries. “I’m so stupid.”

I curled up tighter against the wall, knees to my chest. Every moment without Atticus was a lesson in pain, proving that things were worse off when we were apart. I wasn’t any stronger alone; I was just emptier.

The darkness didn’t answer, didn’t comfort. It was just there, like the truth I couldn’t escape. I thought about Atticus’s fight, his defiance against any chains that tried to hold him. Here I was, breaking under the weight of my own choices.

“Atticus, I’m so sorry,” I whispered into the void, but he wasn’t there to hear it.

My heart ached for more than myself. For the family I wanted to protect, for the pack that depended on us both. Their suffering added to my guilt.

“Forgive me,” I sobbed, the cold stones swallowing the words. Alone in the dark, with only my regrets for company, I cried until my tears ran dry.

The door swung open, and I squinted at the opening. What fresh hell was coming for me now? It didn’t take long for me to make out the familiar form and dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.

Caius.

The shadows in the cellar seemed to curl around him as he stepped inside. A chill crept up my spine. Caius had that effect—cold, dark, and too close for comfort. The weak light from the lantern he carried wavered, like it was scared of him.

“Did you enjoy your little exercise in futility?” His amused voice slithered through the darkness. I didn’t respond, but met his gaze with a glare that I hoped conveyed my hatred.

“Don’t worry, dear. That guard will no longer be servicing you. He has met his most unfortunate end at the hand of my shadows.” A cruel smile played on his lips. “Piece of shit was of no use to me. Now, I get to see your pretty little face more often.”

I kept my mouth shut. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Perhaps, if you behave yourself, I’ll upgrade your room to my personal quarters.” He looked around, his lip curling in disgust as if the dirt on the floor offended him.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from spitting insults at him. Silence was my weapon right now, and I intended to wield it with precision.

Caius started circling me, prowling like a predator. “You see, you are central to a much larger plan. Your power, unique as it is, could tip the scales, though not in the way you hope.”

I fought to keep my face blank. He was playing games, trying to rattle me. I wouldn’t let him. “Whatever your plan is, it won’t work. You underestimate the strength of those who stand against you,” I shot back.

A low chuckle rumbled from Caius’s throat. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’ve accounted for quite a bit.”

His hand shot out before I could react, a surge of dark energy sparking from his fingertips. It hit me square in my chest, stealing my breath and hurling me against the cold stone wall. A sharp searing pain tore through me, but I refused to make a sound. I glared at him, summoning every ounce of defiance.

He snapped his hands back as though pulling threads from the air. I gasped, clawing at my throat. All the oxygen had left me, as if it had been sucked from the room. My heart stuttered, and stars danced along the edges of my vision. I forced myself to calm. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. With the last shred of strength, I lunged at him.

Caius merely smirked and flicked his wrist.

My breath returned in a rush, filling my lungs with stale air. An invisible barrier separated us, as tangible as the walls that caged me.

“This is but a taste of what’s to come,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. “Your spirit is commendable, but it will break. They all do, just like my pathetic son.”

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the throbbing pain in my chest. “I’m not as easy to break as you think. And Atticus thrived in spite of you, and that takes a strength few possess. I can’t wait to see him break you.”

Caius’s only response was a sneer before he turned sharply on his heel, his cloak billowing out behind him as he vanished into the shadows that seemed all too eager to embrace him. Silence filled the void where he stood moments before.

Then, adding acid to the wound, Larkin appeared, smirking at me through the doorway. “Looks like the alpha has finally met her pathetic end. Don’t worry, your body will have served its purpose before you outlive your usefulness.”

I glared at him, fury igniting in every nerve. “I’d rather die here alone than look at your face.” If only I could reach my magic, I’d wipe that smug look off his face for good. I turned my back on the traitor, Larkin.

The air felt thick, charged with the power I couldn’t unleash. My chest heaved as I fought to keep the panic at bay, the sensation like drowning on dry land.

“Can’t even control your own magic?” Larkin was a poisoned dart, his words aimed to wound. “How pathetic.”

I rounded on him, my hands curling into fists. “Shut up. You’re scum. Just shut the fuck up.”

His laugh grated on my nerves. “What will you do? You’re helpless here.”

“Maybe now,” I said through gritted teeth. “But these wall won’t hold me forever.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” His smile widened, and I ached to punch him and break those perfect teeth.

I turned away again, pressing my hands and forehead against the cold wall, seeking some relief from the inferno raging within me. I could feel every crack and crevice in the stone, but it offered no solace. The magic continued to build, a tempest seeking release, but the runes carved into the walls wouldn’t allow me to unleash it.

“Give it up,” Larkin said. “You’re at the end of your rope.”

I spun around, my back scraping against the wall. “I will never give up. Never.”

Larkin shook his head as he turned to leave. “We’ll see about that.”

Left alone, I slid down to the cold floor, the energy inside me pulsing relentlessly. Imploding seemed a real possibility, and I wondered if that would be my fate. Trapped with my own power as the enemy.

“Control,” I whispered. “You have to control it.”

The magic didn’t listen—it never did. So I sat there, wrestling with the fury inside, waiting for the moment when I could turn it on those who sought to chain me.