The hidden shackles
712 Words
Chapter 3: The Hidden Shackles
Freya padded the length of her cell, her bare toes shushing the cold stone. The dimly lit torching threw strange shadows on the cold walls, twining and rippling like apparitions of forgotten prisoners. She would not become one of them.
She must escape.
She pressed her palms against the iron bars, pushing them to sense their hardness. Magic pulsed beneath her skin, weak and flickering like a dying ember. Whatever had suppressed her powers still did so, containing it like intangible chains that her senses couldn't perceive.
And worse than that?
Alaric knew.
She could still feel the weight of his golden eyes, the brush of touch that had lingered just a fraction too long. He was playing games with her, games she hadn't yet learned to play.
But she would.
She had to.
The rhythm of footsteps returned her to reality.
Not Alaric's.
Lighter. Quicker.
A figure emerged from the shadows, stopping just outside her cell. A young man, no older than twenty, with tousled blond hair and nervous brown eyes. His uniform marked him as a lower-ranking pack member—one of the guards.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, shifting uneasily on his feet.
Freya arched an eyebrow. “I’m well aware.”
He hesitated, glancing down the hallway before speaking in a hushed voice. "You're lucky, you know. The Alpha doesn't tend to spare prisoners."
Her chest pounded. "Why did he spare me?"
The guard swallowed. "No one knows. He just… he looked at you, and something changed."
A shiver ran down her spine.
She felt it too.
When Alaric had touched her, something within her had curled up—something she didn't know, something that was frightening and compelling all at once.
The guard sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Listen, I shouldn't be talking to you. But if you use your head, you'll be able to get him to let you go. Before it's too late."
"Too late for what?" Freya snapped.
But before he could answer, a low growl vibrated through the corridor.
The guard stiffened, stepping back as a shadow fell over them.
Alaric.
He stood at the far end of the hall, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. His presence sucked the air from the room, filling the space with a heavy, suffocating authority.
The guard bowed his head and hurried away without another word.
Freya’s pulse quickened as Alaric approached, his movements slow, deliberate.
“I see you’re making friends,” he murmured, stopping just outside the bars.
She lifted her chin. “I was just asking for better accommodations.”
His lips twitched, almost as if he found her amusing. “Is that so?”
Freya folded her arms. “If you’re going to keep me locked up, at least have the decency to explain why.”
Alaric tilted his head, studying her. “You’re dangerous.”
She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “You took my magic. I’m about as dangerous as a caged bird.”
His grin vanished. "Magic is not the sole aspect that renders a person perilous."
She experienced a shiver run down her spine as he spoke.
There was a silence between them. The atmosphere hung with something that neither of them said.
Then Alaric sighed.
"Come with me."
Freya's eyes went wide. "What?"
He pulled a key from his waist and thrust it into the keyhole. The door creaked open, and she didn't get a chance to move before he closed a hand around her wrist, pulling her out.
His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her system—ice and fire combining under her skin.
She ought to have resisted.
But she didn't.
She let him pull her out of the cell, her ribcage banging against her chest.
"Where are we headed?" she asked.
Alaric didn't look back. "You wanted answers."
Freya swallowed.
She wasn't sure if she was ready for them.
Loop Ending:
The corridor stretched out before her, black and endless, as Alaric drew her on.
But a catch at the edge of her mind—a sense of nagging.
As if she'd been here before.
As if she'd walked this path in another life.
And at its end…
She had died.
- Writer
