Breaking me isn’t possible
1276 Words
LIORA DEVOSS
They dragged me back into the council chamber the next morning, not even giving me time to fully wake up. My legs barely worked, but the guards didn’t care. They shoved me forward until I fell to my knees in front of the throne.
My mother stood there, calm as always, her face carved out of ice.
“Let it be known,” she said, projecting her voice so the whole room could hear, “that Liora DeVoss is no longer heir to this throne.”
The words echoed like a blade slicing through stone.
The council gasped.
Someone actually dropped a scroll.
Someone else whispered, “Impossible…” like he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
I just looked at her and shrugged.
Honestly?
I expected worse.
She studied my face, waiting for me to break.
To cry.
To beg.
Anything.
But I didn’t give her that.
I simply brushed a strand of hair out of my face and said, “Took you long enough.”
A ripple of shock went through the room.
My mother’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the tiny twitch in her jaw. That was my favorite reaction from her — the c***k she tried so hard to hide.
She lifted her chin. “Since she has betrayed her kind…” She paused, letting the silence thicken. “Since she has broken ancient law… Since she has cast shame upon her bloodline…” She raised her hand. “She shall die.”
A few council members cried out in surprise.
A few nodded like they’d been waiting for this.
I stared right back at her and said, “Then do it.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Still fearless?”
“No,” I said calmly. “Just done with you.”
Gasps again.
Always the gasps.
You’d think they’d get tired.
My mother made a simple gesture with her hand, and the guards grabbed me. They didn’t take me to the usual holding rooms. No. They took me deeper. Down narrow steps carved into old stone, through cold corridors, past doors that hadn’t been opened in a century.
They led me into the oldest, darkest cell in the dungeons.
The Secluded Chamber.
Even I swallowed hard when I saw it.
It was a box made of thick stone, runes carved into every surface. Magic hummed everywhere, crawling over my skin, trying to squeeze the spirit out of me. The air was stale, almost suffocating.
It wasn’t meant to hold prisoners.
It was meant to break them.
They shoved me inside and locked the door with a clang that echoed for a full ten seconds. My ears rang with the sound, but my mind stayed clear.
I sat against the wall, letting the cold seep into my bones. It wasn’t pleasant. The room tightened constantly, pressing into my mind with spells designed to make me unravel.
But compared to my mother’s voice in my childhood?
This was almost peaceful.
Hours passed. Or maybe days. I lost track.
Then the confessor came.
He entered with a long robe, glowing symbols across his skin, his eyes too bright to be normal. Confessors were trained to dig through your mind until you shattered.
He stood over me. “Liora DeVoss,” he said in a deep voice, “I have been sent to cleanse your spirit.”
I raised a brow. “You mean you came to annoy me?”
He didn’t smile. Confessors never did. “You will tell me the truth.”
“I always tell the truth,” I said. “You all just hate hearing it.”
He placed his hand on my forehead, and a sharp force slammed through my skull. I hissed but kept my eyes on him.
“You betrayed your kind,” he said.
“Sure.”
“You betrayed your Queen.”
“Definitely.”
“You betrayed your bloodline.”
“Sounds like me.”
He blinked. “You admit it?”
“I admit you talk too much.”
He pressed harder. My head throbbed, my vision flickered, but I still grinned at him.
“You regret falling for the wolf,” he demanded.
“Only fools live in regret.”
“You regret touching him.”
“Say something else.”
“You regret meeting him.”
“Not even close.”
His voice grew rough. “You must repent.”
I sighed loudly. “Can you get to the good part already? I’m bored.”
That threw him off. Confessors thrive on fear. When you don’t give it to them, they malfunction like broken clocks.
He tried again. “Tell us he corrupted you.”
“No chance.”
“Say his name.”
“Aiden.”
He stiffened. “Say it with shame.”
“Aiden Crowl,” I repeated, grinning. “With joy.”
His face tightened. “You mock the sacred ritual.”
“Ritual?” I laughed. “This is a sad therapy session with extra lighting.”
He snapped.
Magic burst from his palm and slammed into my chest. My back hit the wall so hard I saw sparks. I groaned but forced myself to lift my head again.
“This is pathetic,” I said. “Is this all you’ve got? Surely, your Queen must be disappointed when she hears that you couldn't break me,” I mocked him.
“You will break,” he hissed.
“I was supposed to break years ago,” I said quietly. “But I didn’t then, and I won’t now.”
For the first time, the confessor stepped back.
He actually looked unsettled.
He called for the guards and stormed out.
They dragged me deeper into the chamber, chained me again, and left without saying a word.
This time, though… one guard lingered.
He wasn’t the usual cold-blooded type.
He was young.
New.
Probably forced into duty.
And unlike the others, he kept glancing at me like he was… curious.
“You’re not afraid,” he said finally.
I shrugged. “Should I be?”
“I would be. Losing your title? Getting sentenced to death?” He hesitated. “Most people would scream.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I can see that.”
We talked — not much, but enough. He kept asking questions.
I kept answering just enough to keep him interested.
I noticed he loosened my wrist chains a little each time he checked on me.
He didn’t think I noticed.
I noticed everything.
By the third visit, he trusted me enough to step inside the cell without backup.
He crouched beside me, checking a rune near the floor. I watched his hands, watched the way he leaned forward, watched where his weapon sat.
Too close.
Too easy.
He said quietly, “For what it’s worth, you don’t seem like a traitor.”
“Oh, I am,” I whispered.
He blinked. “What?”
I smiled.
Then I moved.
I pulled my wrist free from the loose chain — faster than he could react — grabbed the back of his head, and slammed it into the stone wall.
He grunted, dazed.
I hit him again.
And again.
Just enough to knock him out.
I caught him before he collapsed, lowering him silently to the floor.
Then I took his key.
His dagger.
And his cloak.
I stepped out of the cell, pulling the hood low over my face.
My heart pounded, not from fear, but from something sharper.
Anger.
Purpose.
Fire.
They wanted to break me.
They should have known better…
I was a DeVoss.
Breaking me wasn’t possible.
- Writer
