The Outcast Princess

poison her

Lyra’s heart pounded in her chest. She could hardly breathe as Caden’s words hit her like a stone. His rejection, his cold attitude—it was more than she could bear.

“You think I used some potion on you?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Caden, I never did that. I never wanted to control you. I didn’t even know we were mates!”

But Caden wasn’t listening. His eyes were filled with anger, disappointment, and something else she couldn’t name. He stepped closer, his words sharp and cutting.

“I knew all along,” he said bitterly. “But how could the Moon Goddess choose you? You’re just a maid. You’re not my mate. I see now that everything was your doing. You used your powers to trick me. I can’t believe I was so blind.”

Lyra shook her head, her hands trembling. “No! I swear, I didn’t know. I didn’t use any powers, Caden. I... I don’t understand all of this!”

But Caden didn’t care. He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and then his words fell like a hammer.

“I, Prince Caden of the Silvermoon Kingdom, reject you, Lyra, as my mate.”

Her whole body went numb. The world spun around her. Her heart, the part of her that had believed in something better, in a future with Caden, shattered into a million pieces. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.

“Caden,” she whispered, choking on the pain. “Please…”

But he turned his back and walked out. No more words. No more kindness. Just the sound of his footsteps fading away.

Lyra sank to the cold stone floor, her body shaking uncontrollably. Tears blurred her vision as she pressed her hands to her chest, where the bond had been, where the love had been. Now it was gone, ripped away like it had never existed.

“Why?” she whispered into the silence. “Why is this happening to me?”

The room around her grew colder. The air seemed to thicken. A faint glow began to flicker in front of her, a soft light that grew brighter and clearer with each passing second. Lyra’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt different—important.

And then, a figure appeared. She could hardly believe her eyes. It was a woman, glowing softly, her features almost exactly like her own. It was as though Lyra was looking at herself, but older, more powerful.

“I am your mother,” the figure said, her voice gentle but filled with power.

Lyra felt her heart skip a beat. Her mother? But she had died when Lyra was born. How could she be standing here now?

“Mother?” Lyra whispered, her voice shaking. “How are you here? You died when I was born. You can’t be…”

But her mother smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I have come to tell you the truth, my child. There is so much you do not know, so much you need to understand.”

Lyra was frozen. Her heart ached with confusion. “The truth? What truth?”

Her mother’s gaze softened. “You are more than they believe you to be. Your destiny is not what they think. But you must be strong. You will learn soon enough.”

Lyra’s tears stopped. For the first time since everything fell apart, she felt a strange, warm sense of hope. She wasn’t sure what her mother meant, but her words felt like a promise. A promise that things could be different, that maybe there was a reason for all of this.

But just as quickly as the vision had appeared, her mother’s figure began to fade. “Wait!” Lyra cried out, reaching for her. “Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me!”

Her mother’s form was barely a shadow now, her voice a soft whisper in the air. “Be strong, Lyra. You are more than this.”

And then she was gone. The cell was dark again, silent, empty.

Her eyes fluttered open. Lyra’s breath was shallow, her mind spinning. Was it all just a dream? Was she really talking to her mother? Or was it her mind playing tricks on her?

She must have cried herself to sleep. She sighed and made to readjust herself but then her gaze fell to the door. It was wide open. She had been locked in here before. There was no way it should be open. Something wasn’t right.

“Is anyone here?” she called quietly, her voice trembling. There was no answer, no movement in the hallway.

Her heart raced. This was her chance. She had to escape. There was nothing left for her in this palace, not after what had happened. She had to leave, to get away from the people who had betrayed her.

Quietly, she crept out of the cell, moving carefully through the halls. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind raced with fear and desperation. She had no plan, no idea where she would go, but she couldn’t stay here. She had to get out.

As she walked through the corridors, she overheard voices. Low, whispered voices. She stopped, pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear.

“Elara, you have to be careful. She’ll be trouble if you let her live,” said a voice Lyra recognized. It was Ella, Elara’s twin sister.

“Don’t worry, Ella,” Elara replied coldly. “I’ll take care of her. I’ll poison her. No one will know. She’ll be gone before anyone even notices.”

Lyra’s blood ran cold. Poison? They were planning to kill her? This wasn’t just betrayal—it was murder.

She stepped back, trying to move quietly, but in her panic, she accidentally bumped into something. A strong, warm presence.

“Who’s there?” a deep voice asked, sharp and full of authority.

Lyra froze, her heart in her throat. She slowly turned around, her breath catching in her chest as she came face-to-face with someone she knew all too well.