The Alpha's Seeress

Chapter 12

Olivia Isla

I had fallen asleep, my mind swirling with countless questions, but the clanging sound of the door jolted me awake. My heart raced as I saw a figure step into the dimly lit room, their silhouette cast against the doorway. Fear gripped me, tightening in my chest.

"Eat up. The King wants to see you in the morning," a calm voice said.

It was a servant, I guessed. She was dressed neatly, her hair tied in a tight bun, her face a mask of indifference. She placed a tray of food on the table without so much as a glance in my direction.

"Wait," I called out just as she turned to leave. "What prophecy are the people talking about?"

For a moment, I thought she might answer. I was desperate for any bit of information, any clue to help me understand what was happening. But she simply looked at me, her face unreadable, devoid of any emotion. Her silence spoke volumes, though—she knew something. They all did.

Without a word, she turned and left the room, the heavy door closing behind her with a soft thud, sealing me in once again. My question remain, unanswered.

I stared at the tray of food, my appetite lost to the anxiety twisting inside me. Tomorrow, I would face the King, whoever he was, and maybe then I’d get the answers I was searching for. But tonight, I was left with nothing but my own fears and the ever-growing mystery of who I really was.

Morning came, and just as the servant had told me, two people entered the room. Without saying much, they led me to a small bath, scrubbed me clean, and dressed me in finely made clothes. They painted my face with delicate strokes of color, as if preparing me for a grand event. I felt out of place, like I was being prepared for a lavish party I had no interest in attending.

I hated it. I would have rather faced him looking rugged and defiant than adorned like a doll.

As they finished adjusting my attire, I decided to break the silence, trying to pull some kind of information from them. "How old is the King?" I asked, hoping to start a conversation, maybe build a rapport.

The two servants exchanged a quick glance but remained quiet, continuing their work on my appearance. I shifted uncomfortably. They were either too loyal or too afraid to say anything.

"If I’m going to meet him, I should at least know who I’m meeting, don’t you think?" I pressed, trying to sound casual.

One of them finally spoke. "The King’s age doesn’t matter. He has ruled longer than most can remember."

Her words gave me a chill. How could someone rule for so long without aging? Was he immortal, or was there something darker at play?

Before I could ask anything else, they finished their work and gestured for me to follow. My heart raced as I walked through the narrow hallways.

The thought of serving an old man still gnawed at me. It didn’t match the visions I’d had, the flashes of what I thought my future would be. Had my own visions deceived me? The idea of it all made my stomach turn. What had I gotten myself into?

We reached two massive doors, intricately adorned with vines that seemed to grow right out of the wood. The servants who had dressed me motioned for me to open the door, but I couldn’t move. My body refused.

I stood frozen, staring at the doors that separated me from whatever lay beyond—maybe answers, maybe more confusion. Fear washed over me in waves. I didn’t want to go through those doors. The thought of meeting this so-called King, of finding out what my role in this twisted prophecy was, terrified me. I had been trying to hold it together, but now, standing here on the edge of the unknown, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

I was scared.

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling at my sides. I wanted to run, to go back to the quiet life I had before all of this. But deep down, I knew there was no turning back now. Whatever was on the other side of those doors, I would have to face it.

The servants exchanged a brief glance, clearly sensing my hesitation. One of them stepped forward, gently placing a hand on my shoulder, though she said nothing. It was as if she understood the fear gripping me. But her silent gesture wasn’t enough to quell the storm of anxiety within me.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move, one foot in front of the other. My hand reached for the door’s handle, trembling slightly. This was it.

Before I could even touch the handle, the door swung open on its own, as if by magic. I froze, my heart racing. When I turned to look back, the servants were gone—vanished without a trace.

"You're finally here."

The voice snapped my attention forward, but instead of meeting a grand throne or a regal figure, my gaze landed on someone far more familiar. It was him. The man from yesterday—the one who captured me, the one who spoke as if he knew every detail of my life.

There was no King, no throne. Just a dimly lit room, shadows stretching across the floor, and a black carpet that ran toward the center where several men stood. First in line was him, the one who had pulled me into this nightmare.

I scanned the room, my eyes searching for any sign of the King or someone who could provide answers. But there was nothing. Only this unsettling scene and the lingering, suffocating tension that made my skin crawl.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"You are going to meet the King. Walk through the carpet; the dead end will be the door to the King," he instructed.

Every fiber of my being wanted to defy him, to run as far away as I could, even though I knew there was no escaping this place. I clenched my fists, feeling the urge to resist, but I knew better. Running would get me nowhere, and defying him now wouldn’t give me the answers I desperately needed.

With a heavy sigh, I forced myself to obey, each step along the black carpet feeling like a betrayal of my own will. The men standing on either side of me watched in silence. My footsteps echoed against the dim walls, the room seeming to grow colder the farther I walked.

The carpet felt endless, stretching out in front of me like a dark path into the unknown. With each step, my heart pounded harder in my chest. I didn’t know what lay beyond the door at the end, but I could feel it—the weight of something powerful waiting on the other side.

As I approached the end of the carpet, I stopped in front of the door, hesitating. My breath came in shallow bursts, and fear clawed at me again.

"Go on," the man’s voice echoed from behind me. "The King is waiting."

It felt like I was trapped in some survival game, but this was no illusion—this was my reality. Every step I took felt heavier than the last. I tried to steady my breath, forcing myself to face the storm of emotions raging inside me.

The door loomed in front of me, as though it held the weight of my entire future behind it. With a shaky exhale, I reached out and slowly pushed it open.

The room beyond was vast, almost cavernous. Dim light flickered from torches lining the walls, casting shadows that danced ominously along the stone. At the far end, atop a dais, stood a grand throne, carved from what looked like blackened stone.

And there he was.

Seated on the throne, the King. He wasn’t at all what I expected. His presence radiated an unnatural calm, his appearance ageless—neither old nor young, his face sharp and regal, eyes glowing with an intensity that pierced straight through me.

"You've arrived, Olivia," the King said. It wasn’t a greeting—it was a statement, as if my arrival had been long anticipated. His gaze held mine, and I felt rooted in place, unable to move, unable to speak.

This was the moment I had feared. The King, the prophecy, everything that had been shrouded in mystery was now right in front of me. But instead of answers, I was filled with more uncertainty than ever.

"What is this all about?" I finally managed to ask.

The King leaned forward slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "This, Olivia, is your destiny. You were brought here to fulfill a prophecy written long before you were born. But first," his eyes darkened, "you must prove yourself worthy of it."