Chapter 8: The Hostage
The West Tower was a fortress built around a single, fragile prisoner.
They had moved me quietly in the dead of night, after Aric spent an hour demanding impossible security measures from Draven. This new suite was vast, with windows framed in thick, enchanted glass that let in light but blocked sound. The furniture was minimal and heavy, designed to be unmovable. I was placed in the center of the largest room, under constant, silent surveillance from the King himself.
He was sitting now, in a high-backed chair near the fire, reviewing heavy tomes of strategic reports, the light catching the razor edge of his jaw. He was my protector, my nurse, and my jailer all in one. His scent—pine, snow, and a deep, underlying scent of vigilant control—filled the space, suffocating me.
I hadn't spoken since the memory of Rowan had surfaced. My brother. The one I loved, the one who had sworn to protect me, was the one who had sealed me into oblivion. The betrayal was a fresh wound, deep and septic, and The Echo was drinking the poison like fine wine.
"He chose ambition over us," The Echo whispered, soft and insidious. "He chose his father's title over his sister's life. You see, Kaira? Love is a weakness. Trust is the knife."
I tried to push the thoughts away, to call for Lyra, to find the silent center that had sustained me in the dark. But the center was gone, replaced by a raw, burning hunger for justice—a justice I was too weak to carry out alone.
Exhaustion finally pulled me under, not into sleep, but into a swirling vortex of memory and malice.
The darkness was immediate and absolute, but this time, it was crowded. I was running again, my eight-year-old body stumbling over roots in the tunnels, but I wasn't running away from something. I was running toward the sound of the metal CLANG.
I reached the spot. The massive stone slab was sealing the opening. I was scraping my small fingers bloody against the rock, hearing Rowan's distorted voice: Forgive me, Kaira.
"No!" I screamed, but the sound was choked and trapped.
Suddenly, a shift. The memory twisted. I wasn't Kaira anymore. I was a towering shadow, infused with a cold, unnatural strength. I no longer begged at the stone; I pushed.
With a grinding shriek that echoed through the stone, the wall itself buckled.
"We do not beg," the layered, hissing voice of The Echo resonated, amplified a hundredfold. "We break. We take what was stolen."
I saw Rowan's face in the memory—fearful, guilty—and my own hands, massive and clawed, reaching out. I wasn't reaching for his hand; I was reaching for his throat.
"He trapped us! Break the first chain! Break the first bond!"
The mental pressure was immense. My inner self—the scared, broken girl—was pinned against the wall of my own mind, watching the takeover. Lyra was still nowhere to be found, a deliberate, agonizing absence that felt like the final betrayal.
The Echo was not just showing me the memory; it was forcing me to relive the betrayal with its own predatory hunger. It was trying to overwrite my instinct for survival with an instinct for destruction.
I fought back, a silent, desperate scream. No! He's my brother!
"He is a traitor. Betrayal is food. Feel the power, Kaira! This strength is real. This vengeance is satisfaction."
The darkness of the nightmare intensified, turning into a black, swirling void. I felt my body—my real body, asleep in the King's bed—begin to convulse.
In the physical world, Aric sensed the change immediately. He had been trained to spot weakness, but this was a terrifying kind of strength.
I felt the mattress sink as he moved, and a massive, warm hand gripped my shoulder. The scent of pine and snow, the powerful Alpha pheromones meant to calm, hit me like a wall.
But The Echo was ready. The King's touch was the final trigger.
"The catalyst! He wants the bond to secure the prison! Take his power! Break the ultimate bond!"
In the nightmare, the vast, consuming power of The Echo solidified around me. I was no longer Kaira, nor Lyra. I was the entity.
My body thrashed violently. My eyes snapped open, but they were not my eyes. Aric saw it instantly: the irises were gone, replaced by a swirling vortex of layered shadow, a void that seemed to suck the light out of the room.
I was rigid, my neck arched back, my back bowing in an impossible, agonizing curve. A chilling, high-pitched static sound came from my throat—the creature trying to shape my vocal cords to its centuries-old voice.
Aric was on high alert, but he hesitated, caught between the instinct of the King to subdue the threat, and the agonizing agony of Fenrir commanding him not to hurt the mate.
"Kaira! Look at me!" Aric commanded, his voice deep, vibrating with Alpha dominance, trying to cut through the possession. He was radiating pure, protective force, trying to smother the threat.
But The Echo was too far gone. It was operating my limbs, my strength suddenly amplified, inhuman.
I lunged, launching myself off the bed with brutal force. I wasn't running away; I was attacking. My target was the center of his power—the mate-bond.
I moved with a predatory grace I didn't possess, my hands striking out, not with claws, but with the intent to crush. The attack was swift, silent, and entirely focused on disabling him.
Aric reacted instantly, but he was forced to fight defensively. He blocked my strike, his arm absorbing the blow, but the unexpected, supernatural force of the impact made him gasp.
"Fenrir, hold! Do not hurt her!" he growled, the King wrestling with the wolf.
The creature inside me smiled—a cold, terrifying distortion of my own lips. The Echo found its voice, a thick, resonant texture, like the sound of two bodies rubbing together in the dark.
"The King… believes… his… love… is… a… shield," The Echo hissed, the syllables stretched and vibrating. "It… is… a… weakness."
I grabbed his arm, and with a monstrous strength that should have snapped his elbow, I twisted, attempting to use his own weight and momentum against him.
Aric slammed back against the stone wall, the blow heavy enough to shake the room. He was bleeding from a newly opened wound on his shoulder, a cut inflicted by my own fingernails, which were now growing longer, thicker, stained with a dark, oily residue.
He knew he couldn't fight me with violence. Violence was feeding The Echo, fulfilling its desire for chaos and destruction. He had to reach Kaira.
He stopped struggling against the hold I had on him. He didn't fight the pain. Instead, he pulled me closer, sacrificing his own defense.
He forced his face inches from mine, staring into the shadow-filled void where my eyes should be. His own eyes were pure, desperate gold, Fenrir struggling to maintain control.
"Lyra! Kaira! Fight it!" he commanded, his voice raw, pouring all his energy, all the lunar magic, into the mate connection, forcing the bond to resonate.
"The… bond… is… broken… already." The Echo sneered, raising its hand to strike his temple.
"No, it is not!" Aric roared, not as the King, but as the mate. He moved his free hand, placing it firmly against my chest, right over my frantically beating heart, flooding me with his Alpha essence. "I refuse the claim of the monster! I claim her! Kaira Blackthorn, I am your mate! You are my Luna! You will not yield your soul to this hunger!"
The absolute, unyielding force of his will, poured directly through the physical connection, was a shockwave.
The Echo shrieked—a high, unnatural sound that made the very air crackle. It was a sound of immense, unexpected pain, of resistance against the thing it hated most: the purity of the mate-bond.
The blow I was aiming at Aric's head stalled mid-air, trembling violently, fighting against the counter-force.
I felt the monster inside me recoil, retreating deep into the dark corners of my mind, taking the pain with it.
It released the control.
My eyes lost the black void, the irises returning, wide and terrified. The monstrous strength evaporated, leaving me weak and shaking.
I collapsed against Aric's powerful chest, my bones turning instantly to jelly. The smell of his fresh blood, mixed with his familiar scent, was overwhelming.
Aric caught me, his arms locking securely around my waist. He held me tightly, breathing heavily, his own body trembling from the physical and psychic battle.
"It's over, little one. It's over," he murmured, his voice hoarse, burying his face in my hair, radiating sheer, unadulterated relief.
I clung to him, not as a mate, but as a terrified passenger who had just witnessed her own body try to murder the only person capable of keeping her safe.
But The Echo was not defeated. It was merely suppressed.
I heard its final, weak, but chilling whisper as I fell back into the abyss of exhaustion.
"He is weak, Kaira. He will not kill us. He loves the girl too much. We simply wait for the moment his back is turned… or his love is betrayed."
I was the King's mate, protected by his crown and his devotion. But I was also the monster's hostage, and my fate now hinged entirely on the timing of Aric Varyn's next strategic mistake.
I had almost killed him. And I was terrified that next time, I wouldn't stop myself.