Elara's body slammed against the wall with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through the stone as she crumpled to the floor. Her eyes fluttered, barely able to remain open as she watched Hilda slowly descend, her movements deliberate and cold.
Hilda's long, twisted talons gripped Elara's reddened head, forcing her to look up. The mocking grin on the witch's face sent a chill down Elara's spine. "Remember me?" Hilda's voice oozed with venom, each word dripping with hatred. She threw her head back, a cackle escaping her lips. "Cause I surely remember you, you b*tch!"
She released Elara's head, letting it fall to the cold stone with a dull thud. Elara groaned, her hands instinctively clutching her skull as the pain shot through her. Her vision blurred, but she fought to stay conscious.
Hilda strode away from her, her gaze locking onto Given, who still refused to succumb. Elara could see the rage in her eyes as she spoke to her , her voice mocking and cruel.
"But I'm sure you remember me," Hilda continued, her fingers tapping together as she spoke. "Because you remember the last thing I told you, don't you? The time I was busy taking away your memories ." She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Elara. "I will bring him to life, Elara. And I found the perfect vessel for him."
Hilda raised her hands, almost as if summoning something. "I couldn't break into the lycan, Darius. But I'm sure if I find him now, it'll work well, because he will be fueled by anger at seeing you lying on the floor in a pool of your blood."
Hilda's voice lifted from the ground again, her voice dropping to a whisper as she added, "But unfortunately, Theron is dead to fetch him for me, and those guards? They're useless."
Hilda's fingers flexed as she continued. "That's why I decided... I will do this—"
Before she could finish, a sudden force sent her sprawling across the room. Morgana, who had suddenly appeared now , stood with the broken chair in her hands. With a quick, decisive motion, she threw the chair to the ground and rushed toward Given. In one swift movement, Morgana's sword sliced through the chains that held him captive, freeing him.
Elara, still reeling from the impact of the wall, fought to rise. She managed to steady herself, her hands pressing against the stone for support. Her silver eyes turned to Morgana, who too was wounded, clutching her side with one hand, the other still holding the sword.
But they had no time to waste.
"How are we going to help him walk?" Elara muttered, her voice shaky as she looked at Given, still weak and unsteady. Morgana, however, was quick to act.
"Hold onto his other hand. I will hold the other. Let's not waste any time before the witch wakes up , Your Majesty. " Morgana said, her voice steady despite the pain.
Without hesitation, Elara moved toward Given, taking his other hand. Morgana gripped his other arm, and together, they began to move. But as they passed through the halls, Elara's heart sank. The castle was eerily silent—no guards, no servants. The place felt abandoned.
"Where is everyone?" Elara asked, her voice a mix of confusion and concern. Morgana, her expression tight with pain, glanced at her but didn't slow their pace.
"It was all an illusion, Your Majesty. The real war is happening in the city," Morgana explained. "But don't worry. They have it all under control."
Elara frowned, the words sinking in. 'They?' she thought to herself.
"Wait, what... what are we going to do there?" Elara asked, panic creeping into her voice as they neared the red metal doors—the same doors that had once held Darius.
Morgana's expression softened, though there was no time for comfort. "Don't panic, Your Majesty. This is the way out of the castle," she said, though Elara wasn't so sure.
"No!" Elara pulled Given back, his knees buckling as he fell to the ground with a pained groan. "Stay away!" She cried, her eyes locked onto Morgana's. "This is no way out. Who are you working for? Who's side are you on?"
Before Morgana could respond, a familiar voice filled the room—smooth, drawling, and unmistakable.
"She's on our side, Your Majesty." Elara turned sharply to see Lord Volkov stepping into the room, wiping a blade clean of black blood. "Your Majesty," he bowed deeply, though there was no mockery in his voice this time.
"I know we started off on the wrong foot, but I promise, I seek peace too," Volkov added, placing his right hand over his left shoulder—a gesture that made Elara's heart skip. It was the universal sign of peace, one she had once used with allies, a sign that she had learned to trust over the years.
Elara hesitated, her mind racing. Lord Volkov, had been a suspected enemy not long ago. Yet now, he stood before her, offering peace. It was hard to believe, but the flash of recognition in his eyes—genuine, not mocking—spoke to something deeper.
"Please, let us live now. I can never be too sure if the witch will wake up, or if more will come to finish the job," Volkov said, his voice urgent.
He stepped forward, reaching for Given, but Elara was still hesitant.
"We will meet the others on the other side. Lord Darius too, but if you insist," Volkov added, handing Elara a sword. "You can kill me anytime you feel I am about to betray you."
Elara stared at the sword for a moment, her fingers tightening around the hilt. "You are a vampire. It won't kill you."
Volkov smiled, but there was no snark in his expression. He didn't respond, just gave a small nod. And then, without further hesitation, he helped Elara with Given, leading the way toward the red metal doors.
With one final glance at the castle, they disappeared behind the red metal doors, leaving it all behind . And surely , they will return , ready to face their battles once more , this time prepared .