Kaelion, the Wolf Prince, lay unconscious in the healer's quarters, his body battered and broken from the fierce battle with Zareth. The chamber was dimly lit, filled with the soft glow of lanterns as healers worked tirelessly to mend his wounds. Outside, his loyal advisors and soldiers gathered, their faces etched with worry and uncertainty.
The air in the Wolf Kingdom was thick with tension. Whispers filled the halls as rumors spread.
"Why did Zareth take Elira?"
"What does the Dragon King want with her?"
Inside the room, Kaelion's breathing was shallow, his face pale and clammy. Alden, his closest friend and advisor, sat by his bedside, his fists clenched in frustration.
"Why her?" Alden muttered under his breath, pacing the room. "What could Zareth possibly want with Elira?"
Kaelion stirred slightly, his lips moving as if trying to speak, but no sound came. The healers exchanged glances, their faces grim. The prince's recovery would be slow, but his unwavering spirit was evident even in his unconscious state.
Meanwhile, Zareth's massive crimson wings stirred the air as he landed in the grand courtyard of Drakora's palace, Elira clutched tightly in his arms. Her screams of protest echoed through the city, but Zareth's grip was unyielding.
The citizens of Drakora paused to watch their king's return, awe and fear mingling in their expressions. His soldiers, weary but triumphant, followed him through the palace gates.
Inside the vast throne hall, Zareth's voice boomed, silencing the whispers around him.
"Call the chief advisors," he commanded, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd. "Take her to the guest wing. Treat her with respect, but let it be known—disobedience will not be tolerated."
His gaze lingered on Elira, who thrashed in his arms. "Anyone who dares defy my orders will face the consequences."
The soldiers and servants bowed deeply, fear and loyalty evident in their movements. Zareth handed Elira to a group of maids.
"Let me go!" she shouted, her voice defiant despite her fear. She kicked and squirmed, but Zareth leaned in close, his voice low and commanding.
"Shhh… calm yourself, Princess," he said, his gaze locking onto hers. "You are safe here. No harm will come to you."
The intensity in his eyes made her still momentarily, though his words offered no comfort. His presence overwhelmed her, exuding power and control.
The maids led her away, whispering reassurances, though Elira's heart raced with fear and anger.
Elira was taken to a lavish guest wing, a stark contrast to the simplicity of the Wolf Kingdom. The room was adorned with rich silks and ornate carvings, and a massive tub carved from crystal awaited her, filled with warm water scented with rare herbs and petals.
The head maid spoke softly but firmly. "His Majesty has ordered that you be treated with the utmost care. Do not defy his orders, or the punishment will be severe."
Elira's anger simmered beneath her fear as she sank into the warm bath. The scent of the herbs did little to calm her racing thoughts.
Why does he want me? Why did he burn a kingdom just to take me?
Her hands clenched into fists beneath the water. She refused to show weakness, even here, in the heart of her enemy's palace.
Back in the Wolf Kingdom, Kaelion stirred in his bed, his breathing labored but steady. Alden leaned closer, relief washing over him.
"You're awake, Kaelion," Alden said, his voice trembling with emotion.
Kaelion's golden eyes opened slowly, their usual intensity dimmed by pain. "Elira…" he rasped, his voice hoarse. "Where is she?"
Alden hesitated, his expression grim. "She was taken, Kaelion. Zareth took her during the battle."
Kaelion's fists clenched tightly, his body trembling with suppressed rage. Despite his weakened state, his voice was firm. "We must find her. Prepare the forces. I will not let him keep her."
Alden nodded, his own resolve hardening. "We'll bring her back, my prince. No matter the cost."
The determination in Kaelion's words spread through the kingdom, reigniting the spirit of his people. The battle was far from over.
In Drakora, Elira was dressed in fine garments of deep crimson and gold, though the luxurious fabrics did little to ease her anger and fear. The maids led her to the throne room, where Zareth awaited her.
The room was grand and imposing, lit by the eternal flame that danced across the blackstone walls. Zareth stood near the throne, his broad frame radiating power and confidence.
As Elira entered, her steps faltered for a moment. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Ah, there you are," Zareth said smoothly. "How are you finding Drakora so far?"
"I want to go back," Elira said defiantly, her voice steady despite the fear curling in her chest.
Zareth chuckled darkly, stepping closer. "You're bold. I admire that." His tone shifted, turning colder. "But you are in my kingdom now, Princess. And you will stay—willingly or not."
Elira's hands trembled, but her gaze didn't falter. "You can't keep me here forever."
Zareth leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "We'll see about that."