Elara stood frozen, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her as she realized the lycan wasn't hidden in the dungeons. Her heart sank, knowing that Theron wouldn't give her any answers, not when he lay frozen beneath her, unable to speak. She had taken precautions to ensure he wouldn't stir and summon the guards when he was unfrozen. His hands were bound tightly, his mouth silenced with the curtain they had laid nearby. Elara wasn't sure if he would remember the strange position he had ended up in, but she didn't care. She needed to be sure. She needed to find the lycan and learn the truth.
The truth about Given. Who is he ? Could she trust him ? Had they crossed paths in her past life ? So many questions swirled in her mind, but one thing was certain: Elara would get to the bottom of it. She would seek everyone's side of the story, and only then, when the pieces were in place, would she trust her heart to guide her.
The lycan wasn't in the dungeons. But there was one other place—one that Elara had been seen but never have been told about. A secluded corner of the castle, hidden behind the thick wall and the bushes.
Her heart quickened as she approached the red metal doors. The thought came to her like a sudden revelation—one that even she hadn't expected. The door led to an underground basement, a place she hadn't known existed. But before she could think further, the sound of metal clanking reached her ears, signaling the approach of others.
Elara stepped back quickly, seeking refuge behind one of the bushes, her body tense, her eyes trained on the approaching figures. She felt their presence long before she saw them. Two men. One lighting a cigarette, the other locking the doors.
"You don't need to lock the doors, you know," the man with the cigarette muttered, his voice low and muffled by the smoke. "He won't get out."
The other one, who had just locked the door, came forward and took the cigarette from his companion, shaking his head ,"You can never be too sure. Strange things happen in this castle."
They stood there, exchanging idle conversation, as the one with the cigarette puffed lazily into the night air. Finally, he broke the silence. "You know, the tea really works wonders, hey? He doesn't even remember his name."
The other man nodded, taking a drag from the cigarette. "But it'll come back. It always does. The Queen's orders. It's the first thing they get."
The Queen ? Elara's thoughts reeled as the words sank in. Were they speaking of her? Had she really been the one to build this place, to create the dungeon and the tea that wiped memories? Was it truly her idea? No . It couldn't be. This was not like her.
Elara shook her head, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts from her mind. She needed to move, to get closer. But what good would it do? Darius's memories had already been wiped. Was that why he had clawed at her so violently that night? The memory of his touch caused Elara's breath to catch. He had clawed her too.
Her thoughts shattered as her body trembled. A sudden realization jolted her, and she gasped, dropping to her knees.
The sound of footsteps—guards—approaching.
She panicked, realizing she had been too loud, too noticeable. Her heart raced as she looked around, her only escape now the wall behind her. They were getting closer, their voices growing louder.
She lifted her arms to shield her face from the approaching light. Her breath held in anticipation of the alarms ringing out—she could hear them shouting. But the moments dragged on, and nothing came. No shouts. No alarms.
Opening her eyes cautiously, Elara saw them standing before her, frozen in place. She stared at them for a moment, her heart still hammering in her chest. Then, without a second thought, she darted toward the castle.
The guards at the door didn't even move as she passed, their bodies frozen in time just like the rest. Elara didn't waste a moment, rushing through the doors and slamming them behind her.
She stopped in the middle of the room, her gaze flickering over to Theron. A part of her wanted to act—wanted to confront him, to demand answers—but something held her back. Her mind raced, processing everything. Her heart yearned for closure, but what would she do with him now? What was the next step?
But before she could decide, the stillness in the room shattered. Theron moved.
Theron's gaze locked onto Elara as he slowly rose to his feet. His eyes, full of uncertainty, bore into her soul, searching for answers she wasn't ready to give. His mouth parted as if he wanted to speak, but no words came. Instead, he closed his lips, the tension thick between them.
Elara, her hands clasped behind her back, turned her wrist, feeling the cool bracelet resting against her skin. It was a small comfort—something tangible to focus on when everything inside her felt out of control.
Theron's stare never wavered, but something in his eyes shifted, as if he was seeing her for the first time. He took a step toward her, his presence heavy in the room.
"What happened?" His voice was low, almost hesitant, but his question cut through the silence.
Elara winced, as though his words physically hurt her. The soft, worried edge to his voice caused her chest to tighten, but she refused to show any vulnerability. She turned her face away, her eyes shutting tight, as if closing them could shut out the world—and him.
"Elara?" Theron called again, his voice softer this time, filled with confusion.
Her heart raced, each beat thunderous in her ears. She wanted to scream, to cry, to collapse into him, but the walls she had built over the years held her firm. She couldn't let him in. Not now. Not when everything felt so broken.
He moved closer, and instinctively, Elara flinched. Her body tensed, her breath shallow. She felt the air shift as he lifted his hand, the movement slow, deliberate. She knew what was coming. His touch. It felt like a weight she couldn't bear.
Before his fingers could reach her shoulder, Elara screamed. The sound tore through her throat, raw and desperate. She shoved herself backward, away from his hand, her pulse a frantic rush. The door behind her burst open, the sound echoing through the room.
"Everything alright, your majesty?" he asked, stepping inside, while Given, now standing in the doorway, took in the scene with a quiet intensity. His eyes, however, never left Elara's face.
"Get out," Elara commanded, her voice eerily calm. The authority in her tone was unquestionable.
The guard froze, but before he could say anything, Elara's voice broke the tension once more. "Everyone, get out!" she screamed, her words carrying an unseen force. The air itself seemed to obey her command, and one by one, they all turned, compelled to leave.
Theron was the last to go, his confused gaze lingering on her, but even he, under the weight of her power, exited the room. The door shut quietly behind him, and Elara stood alone.
She was still, her eyes distant, staring into nothingness. The battle inside her was clear, and Given, who stood silently by the door, could feel it. He understood what she was facing, the internal war between the woman she was and the woman she feared she might become.
After a long, suffocating silence, Given stepped forward, his movements slow and careful, as though treading on fragile ground.
"It's okay, your majesty," he began gently, but Elara's cold voice cut him off before he could continue.
"I ordered everyone out," she said, her words flat, almost robotic.
Given paused for a moment, watching her closely. He could see the cracks, the pain she was hiding. Her hands shook, her eyes clouded with confusion and fear. But there was something more—something she was desperately trying to hold back.
"I am not everyone," Given replied softly, his voice steady, but his words carrying a depth of meaning. "I am Given, your personal attendant for now, but more than that, I am your right hand. You once asked me who I was to you, and now I am telling you. Please, trust me. Stop fighting this alone. I'm here with you."
Elara didn't respond right away. Her eyes flickered briefly to him, and for a fleeting moment, there was a crack in her armor. But then, just as quickly, the wall went back up. She turned her head away, closing herself off from him once more.
Given stood still, watching her, feeling the weight of her struggle. But no matter how many times she tried to push him away, he wouldn't leave her. He couldn't.
"I'm not going anywhere, your majesty," he said quietly, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.
Elara's hands trembled as she slowly lifted them, her fingers curling into fists as though she were trying to hold onto something, anything, that could keep her grounded. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and the tension in the room was palpable.
But for the first time in a long time, Elara allowed herself to trust , even if just for a moment, that maybe—just maybe—someone could help her .