Episode 5
1103 Words
Author's POV
The dungeon was never silent. Water dripped in a slow, mocking rhythm from the ceiling. The air smelled of rust and wet stone. In one corner, Cyn Vale pressed her knees against her chest, shivering beneath the thin, tattered cloak Rhea had given her two nights ago. It was no match for the chill that seeped from the walls.
Her stomach growled again, a hollow, painful sound. She ignored it, just as she had ignored the ache in her wrists and the sting of the iron cuff on her ankle. She had learned long ago that weakness fed the wolves.
The wolves…
Her throat tightened. The memory of fire, screaming, and the metallic tang of blood clawed through her head. Drogo’s sword, its gleam catching the last light of her brother’s eyes. She squeezed her palms hard enough for her nails to pierce her skin, desperate to drown the flashback in pain.
He took everything. Her family. Her home. Her freedom.
But she was still alive.
Cyn lifted her chin toward the faint shaft of light slipping through the iron bars above. “You’ll pay for all of it,” she whispered, voice rough and cracked. “Even if I die trying.”
She heard footsteps then, measured, heavy, deliberate. Not the guards. She would have known that gait everywhere.
Her heart began to hammer. Her wolf stirred, a frightened tremor beneath her ribs. Not now, she begged silently. Don’t show him fear. Not him.
The door creaked open, spilling light into the darkness. Drogo stepped inside.
He didn’t wear armor this time, just a black tunic, his broad shoulders outlined by the dim glow of the torch in his hand. His eyes' cold steel met hers. The air between them seemed to thicken.
Cyn refused to look away.
Drogo stopped a few paces from her cell. For a long time, he said nothing. The silence stretched like a blade between them. Then his wolf spoke inside him Gai, restless and growling.
She’s terrified, Gai said, voice low and guttural in his mind. And yet she doesn’t beg. She’s ours.
Drogo clenched his jaw. No. She’s the last of the Vales. A traitor’s bloodline.
Gai’s snarl echoed through him. You’re lying to yourself.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Cyn’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and shaking. “You killed everyone else. Why stop at me?”
Drogo’s grip on the torch faltered. He stared at her, the firelight catching the bruise on her cheek, the hollow beneath her eyes. Her defiance was still barely there, but it flickered like a dying flame.
“You’re the last piece of proof,” he said quietly. “I decide what happens when I’m done questioning you.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “You mean when you’re done pretending you didn’t murder an innocent pack.”
His eyes darkened. Your father betrayed the crown. ”
“My father was loyal to the end!” Her shout echoed through the chamber. Her hands shook violently, not from fear this time, but from fury. “You killed him without a trial. You burned my home. You call that justice?”
Drogo stepped closer. The torchlight illuminated her face dirt-streaked, gaunt, but still bearing the proud angles of her bloodline. His wolf surged again, the sound of a heartbeat echoing through his mind.
She’s not lying, Gai growled. Her scent… its pure truth. You feel it too.
“Enough,” Drogo hissed under his breath, more to himself than her.
Cyn’s eyes narrowed. “You talk to yourself now? Or is that the monster inside you?”
That almost made him smile but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in, resting one hand against the bars. “Be careful, Vale. Monsters don’t have patience.”
Her pulse raced. She hated the way his presence filled the air, how her own body betrayed her, quivering with fear she couldn’t suppress. She pressed back against the wall, pretending it was out of anger. But Drogo saw. He always saw.
When he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. “You’ll never sleep easy again. I’ll haunt you, even if I die in this pit.”
He didn’t reply. But his wolf whispered, She already does.
***
Later that night, Rhea crept down the stone steps, holding a small tray of food and a wool blanket. Her soft heart made her reckless. She told herself she was doing it out of mercy, not defiance of her brother.
Cyn didn’t move when Rhea entered. Only when the young woman placed the tray beside her did she lift her head slightly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Cyn murmured.
“I know,” Rhea replied quietly, eyes darting toward the door. “But you look… you look like someone who doesn’t deserve to die down here.”
Cyn’s lips curved bitterly. “I didn’t deserve to die anywhere.”
Rhea hesitated, then pulled the blanket from the tray. “What’s your name?”
“Cyn.”
“Just Cyn?”
A pause. “It’s enough.”
Rhea smiled faintly and turned to leave, but her gaze lingered. Something about the prisoner’s violet eyes tugged at her chest. Familiar, though she couldn’t explain why.
When she was gone, Cyn stared at the small loaf of bread. She didn’t eat. She just sat there, her mind a storm.
Drogo’s sister… kind enough to feed the wolf he chained.
The thought both burned and twisted her.
***
In his chambers, Drogo poured himself a cup of wine and stared at the flickering fireplace. His mind was restless. He’d faced assassins, traitors, and wars but never a prisoner who could make him question his own truth.
She’s lying, he told himself again.
She’s not, Gai countered. You can smell fear, remember? But you didn’t smell deceit.
Drogo shut his eyes. The wolf’s presence pressed harder.
She’s ours.
She’s my enemy, Drogo growled.
The wolf only laughed in the dark corners of his mind. If that were true, you’d have killed her already.
The cup shattered in his hand, crimson spilling over his fingers like blood.
He stood abruptly, his pulse pounding with anger and something else he refused to name.
Back in the dungeon, Cyn lifted her head at the faint echo of glass breaking above. She smiled coldly to herself.
“Good,” she whispered. “Let him lose sleep first.”
But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was his face, his eyes, the firelight, the guilt he
Tried to hide.
And that frightened her more than anything.
- Writer
