The Outcast Princess

Last moments

Lyra froze, her heart pounding wildly as she looked up into Caden’s piercing eyes. His presence was suffocating, his tall frame blocking the dim torchlight in the narrow corridor. She hadn’t expected it to be him—of all people, why him? Her mind scrambled for words, but nothing came out.

“Lyra,” Caden said, his tone low and unreadable. His gaze swept over her disheveled appearance, lingering on the tears streaked across her face.

For a brief moment, she thought she saw something—hesitation? Guilt?—flash in his eyes. Lyra’s lips parted, her voice barely a whisper.

“Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Let me go.”

She didn’t know what she was asking for—for freedom, for him to believe her, for some small sliver of the bond they once shared to remain intact. Her eyes locked on his, pleading silently.

Caden stood there, his expression unreadable. The tension in the air was suffocating. Then, just as she thought he might step aside and allow her to escape, his face hardened.

“Guards!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the corridor.

“No!” Lyra gasped, her hope crumbling into dust.

Within seconds, the sound of heavy boots thundered down the hall. The guards surged in, their armor clanking as they surrounded her. She tried to run, but one of them grabbed her arm, yanking her back with such force that she stumbled and fell to her knees.

“Take her,” Caden ordered coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth she had once known.

Lyra’s mind raced as she struggled against the iron grip of the guards. “Caden, please!” she cried, desperation lacing her voice. “I didn’t do anything! You know me—you know I wouldn’t—”

“Enough!” Caden snapped, his tone sharp enough to silence her.

Her heart shattered all over again as she looked up at him. The man she had trusted, the man she had loved, was now looking at her as though she were nothing more than a criminal.

The guards dragged her back down the corridor, her protests falling on deaf ears. She fought them, twisting and kicking, but their hold was unyielding. Tears blurred her vision as she was taken deeper into the palace, past the dungeons she had escaped from earlier.

They brought her to a cell unlike any other she had seen before. This one was dark and windowless, with heavy iron bars reinforced with glowing runes. It reeked of despair and finality.

“Lock her in,” one of the guards barked.

Lyra screamed as they shoved her inside, her hands scraping against the rough stone floor. The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening clang, the sound reverberating in her chest. She crawled to the bars, gripping them tightly as she sobbed.

“Why are you doing this?” she shouted. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

Caden stood outside the cell, his expression colder than ice. He said nothing as he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the silence.

Left alone in the suffocating darkness, Lyra collapsed to the floor. Her body trembled with sobs as she curled into herself, the weight of everything crushing her.

“Why?” she whispered into the void. “Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Her mind swirled with thoughts of Elara, of Caden, of the mother she had seen in her dream. Was this her fate? To die alone and hated, accused of crimes she hadn’t committed?

Time passed in a haze of despair. She didn’t know how long she had been there—hours, maybe more. But then, the sound of approaching footsteps jolted her from her misery.

The cell door creaked open, and Lyra scrambled to her feet, her heart racing. The torches outside illuminated the figures entering the room: Elara, smirking with cruel satisfaction; Caden, his expression unreadable; the palace physician, and several guards.

“What is this?” Lyra demanded, her voice hoarse from crying.

Elara stepped forward, her smirk widening. “Today is your last day alive,” she said, her tone dripping with venom.

Lyra’s stomach dropped. She backed away until her back hit the cold stone wall. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Elara chuckled, a sound that sent chills down Lyra’s spine. “Oh, sweet Lyra,” she said mockingly. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about what you did. It’s about who you are—and the threat you pose.”

“What are you talking about?” Lyra asked, her voice rising in panic.

But Elara didn’t answer. She turned to the physician and nodded. The man stepped forward, holding a small vial filled with a dark, viscous liquid.

Lyra’s eyes widened in terror. “What is that?” she demanded, her voice breaking.

The physician didn’t respond. He uncorked the vial, the pungent smell of the liquid filling the room.

“You’re a danger to this kingdom,” Elara said, her tone cold and calculating. “And dangers must be eliminated.”

Lyra’s heart pounded as she tried to process what was happening. “Caden!” she cried, turning to him. “Please, you can’t let them do this! You know me—you know I would never hurt anyone!”

Caden’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Caden!” Lyra shouted, her voice desperate. “Please!”

For a moment, he looked at her, and she thought she saw something—doubt, hesitation. But then he turned away, his silence louder than any words.

“No!” Lyra screamed, her voice echoing in the small room. She lunged for the bars, her hands gripping them so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “You can’t do this! You can’t—”

“Take her,” Elara ordered, her voice sharp and final.

The guards stepped forward, their hands reaching for Lyra. She fought them with everything she had, her screams filling the air. But it was no use. Their grip was too strong, their resolve unshakable.

As they dragged her from the cell, Lyra’s mind raced. She couldn’t let this be the end. She couldn’t let them win.

But as the vial came closer, its dark contents shimmering ominously in the torchlight, she realized she might not have a choice.

This was it. Her last moments.

Or so they thought.