Constance's Power

Chapter 7. The moment of Relief

The next morning, Constance woke up to the familiar sound of the cell door creaking open. She had disturbed sleep. Stern and silent as before, the guard stood in the gateway. Weighed down by fatigue, each muscle was aching from the previous day’s work. She reluctantly pushed herself up. Though she had no idea what today held, she knew she had to follow.

Constance felt the old knot of fear tighten in her gut as the guard guided her down the darkly lit hall once more. She was still getting used to her new reality—being reduced to a mere cleaner in a pack that considered her a threat simply because she was wolfless. Each step was a stark reminder of her status here—nothing more than a prisoner whose only purpose was to scrub the floors, toilets, and windows.

But then something caught her eye as they approached the packhouse. Constance instantly recognized a figure at the far end of the corridor. Even though she saw only the back, she could recognize the person even from a distance.

"Lyra?" Constance mumbled. Her voice was not loud, but it still made it through the long hallway.

Lyra's eyes widened in surprise when she heard her name. The girls both paused, stunned, as they locked eyes across the corridor. Then, without any hesitation, fear, or regret, Lyra dashed forward. She narrowed the gap between them in mere seconds.

"Constance! Oh my goodness!" Lyra yelled. Her voice, her whole body, and her heart trembled with happiness as she hugged her friend tightly.

The warmth of Lyra's touch washed over Constance like a wave of relief she hadn't realized she so desperately needed. Her breath stopped for a moment. Constance gasped and whispered, "I thought... I thought they had done something to you." Overcome with joy at seeing her friend safe and sound, tears filled her eyes, and she buried her face in Lyra's shoulder.

Lyra drew back slightly and said, “I'm fine,” glancing at her. "I have been working, too. I was so worried about you, Constance. Not sure what happened to you, my dear."

Trying to calm down, Constance wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "They've had me cleaning," she answered, still bubbling with excitement. "It’s... not what I expected."

Lyra offered her a small, bittersweet smile. "Me too. It's odd, isn't it? I thought we'd be..." She trailed off, her expression growing serious. "I didn't think we'd make it this far."

Constance nodded. The friends both felt the immense weight of their circumstances. Though the threat hanging over their heads had not vanished, they were still alive and now together. They were inmates; the future was uncertain, but they are together now, so they can make it.

The guard cleared his throat, cutting off their moment. "Get to work," he said. His voice was sharp, yet not unkind or threatening. "You'll be working together today."

The thought of having Lyra with her brought a refuge to this day. She shot a glance at Lyra, then they both grabbed their cleaning supplies and made their way to the main hall of the packhouse. The room was spacious, with high ceilings and enormous windows that let in broad slabs of pale sunlight. Every inch of this space of power was meant to mirror the strength and order of the Nightshade Pack.

For the first hour, they scrubbed the floors and polished the windows in silence. The rhythm of their work comforted Constance. Her hands moved automatically while her mind replayed the events of the past few days. The memory of her interrogation, the cold, detached way Alpha Aiden's eyes had fixed on her, still haunted her.

Lyra was the first to break the silence. She leaned in slightly and asked, “So, what did they ask you?” glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot.

Constance hesitated, her hand stopping on the cloth she was wiping the windows on. "The Alpha... he asked me about the Ironhowl Pack. About why we left. But then he mentioned something else... something strange."

Lyra frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Constance struggled to find the right words. “He talked about a prophecy. Something about someone without wolf.”

"A prophecy?" Lyra repeated. "What does that have to do with you?"

Constance shook her head. "I'm not sure. I don't understand it either. But he seemed... intrigued. It's why we're still alive, I think. He wants to know if I'm connected to it."

Lyra got serious, and her scrubbing hands paused for a moment. "Do you think that's why Keen turned you down? Because of this prophecy?"

The thought of Keen made Constance uncomfortable; the hurt of his rejection still lingered. "I don't know," she said quietly. "Maybe. Or maybe it was just because I'm wolfless."

Lyra looked at her with genuine sympathy and anger. "Keen was such a fool for turning you away, Constance. You definitely didn’t deserve that. Even if you are the chosen one, he can’t just toss you aside like this."

Constance smiled sadly. “Well, at this point, it doesn’t really matter. What’s important is finding a way to survive.” Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake off her friend’s strange comment. I’ve never mentioned anything about the prophecy chosen. How does she know?

Lyra nodded. "We'll get through this. We just need to stay out of trouble, keep a low profile, and focus on our tasks. We can sort everything else later."

The girl agreed, but she still had some doubts. The prophecy, Alpha Aiden's interest in her, and her wolflessness hung heavy over her. It marked her as both an oddity and a potential danger.

Constance kept her eyes and ears open as they worked through the day, listening for any useful information. She observed how the pack members moved—with purpose and almost a military-like discipline. There was an intensity here, a strictness that penetrated every aspect of existence, unlike Ironhowl in many ways.

Constance and Lyra had completed their work by the time the setting sun cast long shadows over the packhouse. Though their muscles hurt from cleaning and their hands felt raw, they had made it through another day.

Constance grabbed one final look at the packhouse as they were returned to their cells. Though Alpha Aiden had not shown up today, she knew his watchful presence. She couldn't ignore his interest in her; the more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she became.

When they got to their rooms, Lyra put her hand on Constance's and tried to make her feel better. Firmly, she said, "We'll get through this, one way or another."

Sure, they had made it through another day, but the questions just wouldn't go away. What prophecy? What did it have to do with her? And perhaps most importantly, how long could they keep this fragile life going before someone—or something—intervened in their fate?