Chapter 9 - You’re Awake, Mistress.
1201 Words
Lylah blinked awake. She was weak and tired. Her limbs heavy and dull like stone soaked in rain.
She struggled to get out of bed but her body betrayed her—unwilling to leave its slumber.
Bed? Her thoughts struggled to make sense of her surroundings. How am I on a bed?
The last thing she remembered was the hallway—the eerie whispers, the mirror, the illusions. She was sure she’d been dying.
A soft, rhythmic clinking drew her attention. The sound of a spoon stirring in glass.
Her eyes searched, following its direction.
She yelped, startled.
There she stood. Busy.
A woman. A very tall woman, unnervingly still.
She turned to Lylah with a calm, unreadable expression.
“You’re awake, mistress,”
Lylah coughed weakly. The voice—It was the same voice that spoke to her before she passed out.
The woman’s presence was unsettling despite her elegant frame. She was….was different.
Her ears were long and sharp, peeking through strands of brown hair like warrior’s blades. And her skin?—gentle moss green, contrasting sharply with the milky and pale color of her sunken eyes. Unreal, impossibly flawless.
An elf?
Lylah would’ve laughed a few hours ago, but after all she’d seen tonight, it barely registered as strange.
But mistress? Why did she call her that? She was way older and obviously belonged here.
“I..” Lylah attempted to say something but the words died in her throat. It was as if she’d been paralyzed completely by the whole terror.
It broke her.
“It’s okay. Here, I made you an heartspire tonic,” she said kindly, stepping forward. She held out a small glass cup, steaming with sangria liquid that glowed faintly from within.
Lylah hesitated. But there was something homely about the woman—a stillness.
The woman smiled warmly, she could see through her reluctance.
“You’re safe. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you early enough.”
“I was away… gathering ingredients on Mossveil Mountain for The Knowing Draught.”
What was that? Lylah looked confused.
The woman continued, as she gently sat beside Lylah, guiding the cup to her lips, “The fortress is alive. So, it haunted you, marking you as an intruder.”
“You were not meant to walk these halls unanchored. This tea is a mystical offering that makes you part of its memory,” she explained.
Oh. The Knowing Draught. Makes better sense now.
“The fortress didn’t know you. Now, it will.”
Lylah swallowed the liquid. It was warm—the taste was strange, yet strong.
It hit her. A heat spread through her chest, expanding outward like a rising sun.
Her eyes widened. Her limbs no longer trembled—they surged. Her spine straightened. Her heartbeat steadied, strong and deep.
The ache in her bones vanished. Her exhaustion evaporated like morning mist under sunlight.
Her strength returned but more refined than usual.
The walls no longer seemed hostile. The air no longer whispered dread. The fortress… knew her now. It recognized her. Accepted her.
The woman watched her with a knowing smile.
“I’m Maevrana and I serve you now, mistress,” Maevrana said gently and curtsied. Her voice as smooth as flowing water.
Lylah shrugged as she sat up, overwhelmed by the royal treatment. “Ugh….I think you’ve got it wrong. I’m an hostage—kidnapped,”
“And I need to escape,” she added in a whisper, pouting at Maevrana for help.
Maevrana tilted her head with a serene smile, not the least bit alarmed by her words. “You are not a prisoner, mistress. You are the guest of his Majesty.”
Lylah stared at her, trying to grasp the meaning of what she said. “His Majesty? Wait—what majesty? Who are you talking about?”
Maevrana’s smile softened. “The Lycan King. The one who brought you here. You may not understand it yet, but you were not taken by accident.”
Lylah’s breath caught in her throat.
“Lycan?..no, no.. You mean a… like… wolf? A wolf king?” she whispered, shaking her head slowly.
Maevrana nodded once, calmly.
“Don’t worry. I’m not sure he will hurt you. If he meant you harm, he would have ended you from the beginning,”
“He spared you. That makes you….important.”
Lylah’s thoughts spun in a dozen directions at once. Her mind wanted to panic, to laugh, to run—but her body stayed rooted, strangely calm.
“So, you are…?” Lylah asked, scanning Maevrana’s features again.
“An elf….an elf, mistress”
Lylah nodded. Still looking at Maevrana who moved like wind and spoke like a lullaby.
“Why would he spare me, Maevrana?” she asked quietly.
“That,” Maevrana said with a twinkle in her golden eyes, “is a question only he can answer.”
Lylah frowned. She’d expected a better answer but Maevrana was right, only he could.
“You haven’t had your food, mistress. I tried my best to prepare it to your liking,”
Right. Food. She’d totally forgot, given everything that happened.
Lylah looked over to the ornate table, unsure of what she would see. But there it sat, her feast. Been there. Still there.
She got out of bed, “I will now. Thank you.”
Maevrana smiled, “I prepared a bath for you too. I’ll leave you to rest. Goodnight, mistress.”
Lylah paused.
“Just call me, Lylah….my name is Lylah.”
Maevrana’s eyes widened slightly.
“I wouldn’t dare. The Lycan king—he would not permit it. I’m alive and here in his mercies.”
Lylah was curious by what she meant but she could see the fear and seriousness that washed her face. So, she didn’t try invading.
“Alright. But call me Lylah when we are together….just two of us. I’ll like that better,” Lylah responded, reassuringly.
A soft smile curved Maevrana’s lips.
“Okay….Lylah, goodnight.”
She slipped out silently.
Once gone, her composed expression crumbled.
Maevrana was worried. She couldn’t wrap her head around Lylah… a human? Alive in this realm?
It was very wrong and difficult to understand.
No human had ever walked the realm. And she simply just did.
But Maevrana trusted the Lycan King with her very last breath, her loyalty was to him. And whatever he thought right was right.
Axel had spared her, a long time ago when he’d evaded Enclave Itharion, her home, wiping out all the elf’s that belonged mercilessly.
She’d pleaded for mercy, swearing loyalty till death.
He let her live because she was an outcast. Unmarked by Velthera. And because he could use her elvian knowledge.
Inside, Lylah ate to her fill.
Then she made her way to the washroom.
A blissful sigh escaped her mouth when she sank into the warm water Maevrana had prepared. Soap bubbles floated the air, carrying the scent of mint and lemon.
No one had ever treated her this kindly before. And honestly? It felt good.
Leaning her head against the head of the tub, she sighed again and shut her eyes—drifting into a deep sleep.
- Writer
