Page 49 of A Reign of Malice
Water moves around my body as I allow myself to float in place, relaxing my muscles. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but I’m going to get out of here, and when I do, I’m going to be ready. The chains may hold me now, rattling with every little movement as a reminder of my fate, but they’ll break eventually. I feel the truth of it in my soul. In this new tremor in the walls.
Because if there’s a crack, there’s a way out.
The triumphant thought is almost eclipsed by the fire in my gut that won’t be quenched.
Fury at Aeson.
Every time I think his name, my wolf stirs. My beast’s presence might be a ghost of the strength I used to have, but he’s still here, trying to claw his way back to the surface.
My brother did this to me. My blood. He took my life, my kingdom, my future. But this time, he made a mistake.
He lured my mate here, allowing her to find me.
And the moment I’m out of these chains, I’m going to tear him apart with my bare hands.
I don’t care what it takes. I’ll rip his throne out from under him and burn down everything he’s built from the ashes of my suffering. I’ll end him for what he did to Lira, for what he’s done to Sloane, and for everything he’s taken from me.
Another pulse shudders through the cave, this one significant enough that I jerk up out of the water, gripping my shackles as I search for any changes. The runes above me flicker again, their glow dimming for a breath before they return to life. My prison hums, charged with something unfamiliar—not dark magic, but something older, heavier.
Someone else is coming.
I don’t know how I know, only that I do.
And it’s not Sloane. Not this time.
This power is celestial, but not gentle. This is something with sharper edges, all radiant beauty wrapped around lethal intent.
Aurora.
I’ve never met her, only heard the stories of the creator goddess, the mother of wolves, the one who long ago abandoned us. When Sloane mentioned she was calling for her, I tried to caution her, but she either didn’t remember or chose to ignore my warning.
Either way, it’s too late.
The cave shudders again, a thin crack spiderwebbing through the stone beneath the runes. It’s not enough to break them, but I feel the fracture like a heartbeat beneath my feet, the faintest tremor echoing through my bones.
The water around my waist ripples, shifting in subtle currents that have nothing to do with me. The shackles at mywrists hum, vibrating with the sheer force of what’s coming. And then, light explodes into the cavern.
It’s not warmth. Not hope. Not salvation.
This light burns. It cuts through the darkness like a blade honed too well, slicing through every shadow, swallowing what’s left of the cave’s silence until there’s nothing left but blinding, merciless radiance.
A figure emerges at the edge of the cave, forged from that brilliance itself—a woman draped in liquid gold, her very skin gleaming like fiery sunlight.
Aurora’s presence hums with divinity, and the air is so thick with her power it’s suffocating. Her crimson hair flows like a river of flames, licking at the edges of her body without ever touching her. Her violet eyes glow with something ancient, both beautiful and terrifying.
She isn’t just powerful. Sheispower.
Aurora tilts her head, those otherworldly eyes burning through me, dissecting me piece by piece, as if seeing not only my broken body, but everything that led me here.
“So, this is the lost prince,” she says, her voice smooth, almost lazy, yet edged with something dangerous. “The wolf the world forgot.”
Her ruby lips curve just enough to show amusement, like I’m something both fascinating and pathetic.
My instincts scream to kneel, to lower my gaze, to offer the deference the gods once commanded from our kind.
I refuse.
Instead, I straighten my spine, squaring my shoulders despite the ache, and meet her gaze head-on. “And you’re the goddess who abandoned us.”
