Chapter 2: Chains at Ravenshade Manor
931 Words
The door slammed behind her.
Sophia stood in a windowless chamber lined with crumbling stone. A narrow bed, a rusted washbasin, and a barred slit high on the wall were the room's only furnishings.
“No candle?" she asked the guard.
He didn't answer. Just locked the door.
She sat on the bed. The thin mattress crackled with dust.
Outside, thunder rumbled.
A crack of lightning lit the room for a moment—just long enough for her to see the silver collar lying in the corner, twisted and discarded like a dead snake.
She rose, picked it up, and stared.
It still smelled of ash and pine sap. Still carried the warmth of her clan's false blessings.
Sophia gripped it tight.
“I won't die in here," she whispered.
---
The next morning, a servant brought her a pale gown of bridal silk.
“This is for what?" she asked.
“The announcement," the girl muttered. “You're to wear it for the record."
Sophia frowned. “What record?"
“The one they'll show the empire after you're… gone."
“Gone where?"
The servant didn't answer. She set a cold basin on the table and fled.
---
When the guards came, Sophia didn't resist. They led her through stone halls that reeked of wet plaster and old secrets.
They stopped in a grand chamber beneath a shattered chandelier. Shards glittered across the floor like frozen stars. Rain leaked through cracked glass above, pooling at Arthur's feet.
He stood near a table with a rolled parchment.
“Sign," he said.
She eyed the quill beside it. “What is it?"
“A statement. You fled the wedding. I took mercy and sent you away quietly."
“Mercy?" she laughed, hollow. “You mean shame."
Arthur's gaze sharpened. “Careful."
“No," she said. “You're scared. Of scandal. Of the council. Of me."
“You think too highly of yourself."
“I think you'd rather erase me than face what you did."
Arthur leaned in. “You're not the first to be discarded. You won't be the last."
He shoved the quill toward her.
She stared at it. Then pushed it away.
“No."
He motioned to a guard. “Chain her. No food. No fire."
Sophia braced herself as iron cuffs closed around her wrists.
Arthur's voice dropped. “Tomorrow the empire will celebrate my marriage. And no one will remember your name."
“You will," she whispered. “Every time the wind howls."
He froze.
But only for a second.
“Take her back."
---
That night, the rain turned to sleet.
Sophia sat on the cold floor, arms shackled behind her, bridal gown soaked and clinging to her skin. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably.
A whisper of footsteps echoed down the corridor.
She lifted her head.
“Back already to gloat?" she rasped.
The footsteps stopped. Then came a voice—low, rough, and unfamiliar.
“You smell like smoke and broken pride."
Sophia's blood turned to ice. That wasn't a guard.
The door creaked open. A man stood there, haloed in shadows.
He wore a ragged cloak of wolf-pelt, its fur dark with dried blood. His boots dripped from the storm. His eyes glinted—silver, sharp, and dangerous.
She had never seen him before.
But she had heard stories.
“Caesar Blackfang," she breathed.
He tilted his head. “Didn't expect you to recognize me."
“You're supposed to be exiled."
“I was."
“Then why—?"
He crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside her. “Because I'm tired of watching that bastard collect things he doesn't deserve."
Sophia flinched as he reached for her cuffs. He pulled a blade from his boot and wedged it between the chain links.
“You can't just—"
“Shh."
With a sharp twist, the cuffs snapped.
Sophia gasped, rubbing her wrists. “You're insane."
“Probably."
“Why are you helping me?"
His voice darkened. “Because you're not his to cage."
Before she could reply, a horn blared somewhere in the manor.
“Guess they noticed," Caesar said.
He yanked her to her feet. “Time to leave, tribute girl."
She stumbled. “Where?"
“Anywhere but here."
He pulled her through the door.
---
Chaos erupted.
Guards shouted. Smoke slithered down the halls. Flames licked the rafters as torches overturned in panic.
“You set fire to the manor?" Sophia coughed.
“I prefer dramatic exits."
They ducked under collapsing beams. Caesar cut down two soldiers with casual brutality, his blade moving faster than her eyes could follow.
Sophia ran behind him, skirts drenched in soot and rain. Her lungs burned.
Outside, sleet hissed on flames. Direwolves snarled in their pens, panicked.
A guard lunged from behind. Caesar spun and punched him so hard the man didn't rise again.
Sophia tripped. He caught her before she hit the mud.
“Careful," he said.
“You marked me, didn't you?" she panted.
His eyes flickered. “What?"
“My neck burns. Ever since you touched me."
He didn't deny it.
“I had to," he said. “Only way to break Arthur's claim."
“You had no right—"
“I gave you freedom."
“By forcing it?"
Caesar stared at her for a moment.
Then looked away. “Hate me later. Live now."
They sprinted toward the treeline as the manor exploded behind them.
Sophia didn't look back.
She couldn't.
Because for the first time in her life, she wasn't being carried toward a cage.
She was running from one.
- Writer
