*Bam!*
Elara blinked, the sharp sound of Lord Casimir's gavel slamming onto the table snapping her back to focus.
"Silence." His voice rang through the room as his eyes fixed on Lord Cade. "Lord Cade. That is enough."
Caught in a whirlwind of confusion, Elara wondered what was happening. Had she imagined all of it? The chaos, the bloodshed, the chaos... But as if to answer her unspoken question, the doors suddenly burst open. And there she stood: Lyric.
For a moment, Elara felt like she was trapped in a matrix. The events repeating themselves in an endless loop. Her heart hammered in her chest, every thump deafening in her ears. Theron was standing beside her again, and Lyric, with those steady, deliberate steps, was walking toward Given.
Elara could almost hear the quiet warning Lord Cade was giving, his voice laced with confusion as he leaned toward Given. But the longer Elara stared at them, the more she realized something was terribly wrong. Everyone looked strange. Given's once vibrant hair seemed dim and lifeless, as if the color had been drained from him. Lord Cade's beard was dull and faded. Lord Elliot's outfit, a deep navy green, appeared suddenly lighter, as if washed out by some invisible force.
The floor beneath her feet felt soft, almost like she was running on a bed instead of solid stone. This... this was wrong. Everything was wrong.
And then, as if fate was taunting her, the Queen Mother's head rolled across the floor, and the white lycan tore Leroy's face off. The sounds of screams and chaos filled the air, but this time, they seemed muffled, distant. And before she could fully process the sight, Elara found herself falling once more, back into the dark room behind the King's study.
She knew what would happen next. She knew this was only the beginning of a loop she couldn't escape.
"Silence!" Lord Casimir's gavel struck again. "Lord Cade, that is enough."
Elara's breath hitched, her body refusing to move. She struggled to stand, feeling like her limbs were trapped in some unseen force, like someone was holding her down. She fought, pushing against the invisible barrier, but it was no use.
Her eyes widened in realization. She had no time. It would repeat again. The events, the chaos, it would all unfold once more.
Her hands gripped the armrest of a chair as she pushed herself up, desperate to break free. She turned her head to see what was holding her back—and that's when she saw it. Her own face staring back at her, pale and wide-eyed.
Suddenly, she was on her feet, running again. The white lycan was close behind, the sounds of screams and bloodshed growing louder. But this time, the blood... it was duller. The colors were fading. Everything was fading.
"Stand up , Elara . Fight , my dear daughter ." The voice whispered through the darkness, as if coming from deep within her. She fought to clear her mind, her thoughts swirling with confusion and fear. This was an illusion, she told herself. It had to be. Whoever had dragged Given away was still out there, but... why ? What did they want from him?
There was no time to think. Lyric entered the room, and everything unfolded again.
As the cycle repeated itself, Elara heard a voice—a familiar voice—screaming out. It was the Queen Mother.
"THERON! This was not the plan. This was never our plan! What is this witch doing?"
Elara's heart skipped a beat. She stood up hastily, her mind racing. She needed to find a way out. But before she could move, she was back in the council room again, the cycle starting anew.
"Silence!" Lord Casimir's gavel echoed once more. "Lord Cade. That is enough."
The doors opened. Lyric entered. Elara did what she always did—she ran. This time, she didn't stop until she found the door out of the dark room , breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. The royal purple decor of the room seemed alien to her now, a reminder that she couldn't waste any more time.
A chant echoed through the air, an unsettling string of words in a strange language that made Elara's blood run cold. She recognized them. She knew exactly what they were for.
She rushed forward, past the dungeons that once belonged to Darius, her footsteps growing more urgent. She reached the Queen Mother's body lying motionless on the floor—perhaps unconscious—but she couldn't stop to check. Her eyes landed on the scene ahead.
There, chained to a table, lay Given, barely conscious. A woman in a royal purple gown with black hair stood over him, her hands raised, her feet barely touching the ground as she chanted a spell.
Three young girls lay lifeless on the floor.
Without hesitation, Elara grabbed a nearby chain, her hands trembling as she swung it at the woman. The woman fell to the side with a groan, but Elara didn't stop. She couldn't afford to waste any more time.
Elara rushed forward, her heart pounding in her chest. "Given. Given!" she called out, her voice trembling with urgency as she fumbled with the chains binding him. "Don't give in. Don't give him your body."
Desperation drove her to the bloodied knife lying in the corner, hoping it could free Given. But before she could reach it, the very chains she had used to strike the woman came hurtling towards her.
"You selfish, self-centered b*tch!" Hilda screeched, her voice filled with venom. Once, she had been a dear friend to Elara, a friend she remembered well.
Elara staggered, her vision blurring as she clutched the back of her bleeding head. She forced herself to stand, her legs trembling beneath her.
Hilda's scream pierced the air, a banshee's wail that made Elara's ears ring. She clamped her hands over her ears, but in doing so, she made the fatal mistake of closing her eyes. Hilda charged, her every ounce of stress and power fueling her attack.
Elara, now relying solely on her human strength, struggled to defend herself. She couldn't remember how to summon her powers, how to activate the magic that once flowed through her veins. But she remembered who she was. She was The Queen of Lunareth, daughter of a powerful lineage. She had powers, even if they were locked away in the recesses of her mind.