Chapter2
1118 Words
Nyra
The mountain air didn't just bite…it f*****g chewed the hell out of my bones.
I was pressed flat against the rock face of Mount Thorne, the sheer drop into the abyss below yawning like the mouth of a hungry beast.
The wind screamed, whipping loose strands of my black hair across my face, but I didn't blink.
My fingers, dusted with climbing chalk and numb from the sub-zero temperature, dug into a microscopic crevice.
Getting into Thorne Palace through the front gates was for idiots who wanted a silver axe through their skull.
I preferred the scenic route which was a three-hundred-foot vertical free climb up the blind spot of the western fortress wall, right where the ancient drainage tunnels emptied.
"Step light, you miserable b***h," I muttered to myself, throwing my right leg up onto a narrow ledge.
Suddenly, a low, vibrating growl echoed from the rocky outcrop directly above me. My blood ran ice-cold.
Fucking guards.
A massive, slate-gray wolf slithered out of the shadows, its amber eyes locking onto my position.
It was a border patrol guard, mid-shift, and it had caught my human scent. The beast bared teeth the size of hunting knives, tensing its hind legs to spring down and crush my skull.
If I screamed or slipped, I was dead.
The wolf leaped.
Time slowed down to a sickening crawl. As the four-hundred-pound monster hurtled through the air toward me, I released my grip on the rock wall, dropping three feet onto a lower projection.
The wolf missed my head by inches, its claws scraping uselessly against the stone. Before it could orient itself on the narrow ledge, I whipped out my right silver dagger.
I didn't waste any time as I plunged the blade straight up through the soft tissue beneath its jaw, twisting the hilt with a vicious, practiced jerk.
The wolf stiffened as a muffled, gurgling choke escaped its throat as the silver-tipped metal pierced its brain.
The burning reaction of the silver made its flesh hiss. I grabbed its thick scruff, using its own momentum to hurl the dying body over the edge.
It vanished into the dark, silent fog below.
"One down, you royal bastards," I breathed, wiping a smear of hot wolf blood from my cheek.
Ten minutes later, I was sliding through a loose iron grate into the underbelly of the palace.
The underground tunnels were a labyrinth of damp stone and dripping water, smelling heavily of wet dog and ancient dust.
According to the blueprints I’d spent three years torturing out of a rogue architect, these tunnels led directly beneath the royal quarters.
But as I navigated the winding darkness, a strange, low hum vibrated through the stones.
It wasn't the sound of machinery or guards. It felt like... a pulse. A magical frequency that made the scar on my neck throb with a dull, sickening heat.
I followed the vibration, slipping through a heavy wooden door that should have been locked.
Instead, I stepped into a hidden, vaulted chamber. The walls were lined with decaying scrolls, iron-bound chests, and dusty portraits of the Varyn dynasty.
It looked like a private, forgotten archive.
At the center of the room sat a stone pedestal, and resting upon it was a tattered, leather-bound journal bearing the crest of the High Alpha Council.
My breath hitched.
I shouldn't have stopped. Every second I wasted was a second closer to getting caught. But my feet moved on their own, drawn by a terrifying intuition.
I flipped the heavy cover open, my silver eyes scanning the frantic, hand-written script. The ink was faded, but the words slammed into my chest like a blow.
“...The Vale bloodline cannot be allowed to multiply. The lineage carries a dormant anomaly, a catalyst capable of shattering the throne. If the daughter survives to maturity, the dynasty falls. The blood will reclaim the crown. It is a fated destruction…”
My hands started shaking.
It was a prophecy about my family. My mother hadn't died because she challenged Darius. She hadn't died because of some petty prophecy which might have been false.
She had been slaughtered like an animal in front of me because of a f*****g prophecy.
A mysterious, unspoken omen that the Varyn family was so utterly terrified of, they were willing to purge an entire bloodline to stop it.
"What kind of anomaly?" I hissed, frantically flipping the crumbling pages, searching for answers.
What did they mean by a fated destruction? What did I have inside me that scared the most ruthless Alphas in the world?
But the next three pages were completely torn out, jagged edges were the only reminder of the truths someone had desperately tried to hide.
"f**k! f**k!" I slammed the journal shut, my mind reeling.
The anger that had sustained me for fifteen years suddenly mutated into something much bigger and more volatile.
They hadn't just stolen my childhood…they had stolen my entire identity based on a secret text.
A fated destruction.
A bitter, dark smile sliced across my lips. If they wanted a prophecy, I was going to give them a f*****g prophecy.
I shoved the journal into my tactical pack, suppressing the whirlwind of questions crashing through my brain.
I didn't have time to unravel ancient mysteries right now. Kael Varyn was still breathing, and his water supply was still pure. That needed to change. Now.
Leaving the hidden chamber, I found the service stairwell and began my ascent into the heart of the beast.
The higher I went, the grander the architecture became. Heavy stone gave way to polished marble, gold leafing, and massive velvet tapestries.
The palace was alive with different sounds…Distant music, booming laughter, and the heavy thud of hundreds of Alpha boots echoed from the great hall below.
The summit was in full swing. That was good. Let them drink and boast while I gutted their kingdom from the top down.
I slipped past two guard rotations by melting into the deep shadows of the vaulted ceilings, my movements as silent as a ghost.
Finally, I reached the end of the grand corridor. The massive doors ahead were carved with a roaring wolf’s head. It was the unmistakable entrance to the King’s private chambers.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a cocktail of adrenaline and pure hatred flooding my veins.
The vial of silver-laced wolfsbane was heavy in my pocket, practically screaming to be used.
I slipped my lockpicks out, my fingers steady despite the chaos in my mind. Within seconds, the heavy lock clicked open.
I turned the handle, slipping inside the darkened room, ready to set my trap and kill the man who killed my mum.
- Writer
