#6: Nyra

Nyra

The dungeon doors groaned open.

 The sound clawed through my sleep, rough and rusty, dragging me out of a dream that had trees, fangs and far too much blood. I blinked against the dark, my head pounding like someone had decided to build a forge inside my skull. The torches outside my cell flared brighter and I smelled them before I saw them. The heavy boots of the guards. The familiar scent of iron and wet stone and something sharp underneath it all.

 Fear, maybe. Or anticipation.

 “Come to personally welcome me back?” I croaked, pushing myself up on my elbows, my body protesting every inch of movement. “How sweet. I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

 The cell door scraped open.

 One of the guards snorted. “She’s awake.”

 “Of course I am,” I said. “You people are about as subtle as a landslide.”

 They didn’t bother responding. Thick hands grabbed my arms, hauling me up before my legs were ready to remember what their job was. Pain lanced up my spine and I hissed through my teeth. My knees nearly buckled, but instinct kicked in before dignity could fully abandon me.

 I dug my heels into the stone floor.

 “Easy,” I warned lightly, even as my vision swam. “If you wanted me vertical, you could’ve just asked.”

 “Shut up, wench!” The one on my left tightened his grip until I felt bone grind against bone. “You don’t get to speak.”

 “Oh,” I said, breathless but smiling anyway, “But I absolutely do.”

 I twisted hard, slamming my elbow into the nearest jaw. He grunted, grip loosening for half a second. Enough for me to call for the shadows, reaching for the familiar cold coil in my chest. I lashed it forward.

 Nothing happened. I felt a claw of dread racing up my spine.

 I tried again, forcing it this time, pushing harder, ignoring the way my vision tunnelled. A thin thread of shadow flickered, barely more than smoke, and then fizzled out against my skin.

 The guards laughed.

 It wasn’t a cruel sound, but that somehow made it worse.

 “She’s drained,” one of them said, almost conversationally. “Told you she wouldn’t have it in her.”

 They dragged me out of the cell, my bare feet scraping across the freezing stone. I kicked, twisted, cursed them in every language I knew, but my body betrayed me. No strength left. No shadows. Just raw, aching weakness.

 I always knew going full hybrid would cost me. I just didn’t expect it to cost me this much.

 As they continued to drag me forward, my feet scraping uselessly against the stone, I didn’t bother fighting anymore. Not yet. There was no point wasting what little strength I had left on bravado.

 The corridor smelled different today. Cleaner. Less rot. That was odd.

 “Execution block’s the other way,” I muttered as we turned left instead of right.

 One of them elbowed me in the ribs. Hard. Air rushed out of my lungs in a sharp wheeze.

 “I said shut up.”

 I grinned anyway, because I could. Because if I didn’t, then all I had left was fear, and I refused to give them that for free.

 This wasn’t the execution block.

 That realization settled in my chest suspiciously.

 We didn’t head toward the courtyard. Instead, they hauled me up a narrower stairwell I hadn’t seen before, one that spiralled higher into the keep. Torches flickered in brackets, casting long shadows that mocked me by refusing to obey. My lungs burned by the time we reached a landing with a single wooden door, banded in iron but carved with intricate wolves’ heads.

 The taller guard shoved me forward. I stumbled through the threshold, and the door slammed shut behind me with a finality that rang in my ears. A key turned in the lock.

 I spun, pounded on the wood. “Hey! What the hell is this?”

 I spun around, heart hammering, and grabbed the handle. It didn’t budge. I pulled harder, then slammed my shoulder into it, ignoring the fresh pain that bloomed across my collarbone.

 “Hey!”

 Silence.

 I rested my forehead against the wood for a second, breathing through the dizziness, then straightened slowly and turned around, barely catching myself before I face-planted into something soft. A rug. An actual rug. Thick, woven, expensive enough that my boots probably shouldn’t have been touching it.

 “What the...” I muttered.

 The room was… nice.

 Not dungeon-nice, which was a very low bar to be honest, but genuinely, offensively nice. A wide bed dominated one wall, layered with dark furs and heavy blankets. There was a table near the window, polished and carved with intricate patterns. A chair. A wardrobe. Actual light filtering in through tall glass panes instead of a slit in the stone.

 I took a cautious step forward.

 Another.

 Nothing exploded. No wards flared. No chains snapped shut around my ankles.

 “What in the Goddess’ name is going on here?” I whispered.

 I limped over to the bed and pressed a hand into the mattress. Soft. Real. I sank down onto it, my legs finally giving out now that they were allowed to. The fabric smelled faintly of cedar and something warmer underneath it.

 My head spun with questions I didn’t have answers to.

 Did they decide to make me comfortable before killing me? Was this some kind of psychological torture? A reward room for prisoners who behave badly?

 I snorted quietly at my own thoughts.

 “Relax, Nyra,” I murmured. “You’re not that special.”

 A knock sounded at the door.

 “Come in... I guess?” I called, because what else was I going to do, pretend I wasn’t here?

 The door opened and a young woman stepped inside, balancing a tray in her hands. I could tell instantly that she was human. No wolf scent. No predator tension in the room. Just soap and herbs and nerves.

 She startled when she saw me sitting on the bed, then schooled her expression quickly.

 “Good morning, miss,” she said, voice soft.

 “Is it?” I glanced toward the window. “Hard to tell when you’ve been underground for a while.”

 She hesitated, then set the tray down on the table. Food. Real food. Bread. Meat. A bowl of something steaming that smelled like broth. A small bundle of dried herbs wrapped in cloth.

 My stomach growled traitorously.

 She noticed and smiled despite herself. “You should eat. It’ll help.”

 “Help with what,” I asked lightly. “The impending execution or the existential dread?”

 She bit her lip. “I was told to tend to your wounds.”

 I blinked. Once. Twice.

 “By who.”

 “The Alpha,” she said.

 That got my full attention.

 I studied her more carefully now. She was young, maybe a few years older than me. Brown hair pulled back in a simple braid. No jewellery. No insignia. A maid, if I had to guess.

 “And he just… sent you?” I asked. “To me?”

 She nodded, beginning to lay out the bandages. “Yes, miss. I’m Aria. I’ll help with the cuts if you’ll allow.”

 I moved closer, wary. “Why?”

 Aria paused, hands stilling. “I don’t know his mind, miss. I’m only a maid. But I heard him tell the steward he wanted the hybrid moved closer, so he could keep an eye on her himself.”

 Closer. My pulse spiked. “How close?”

 She gestured vaguely toward the wall behind the headboard. “His chambers are through there, I think. This used to be the alpha’s guest suite, before the war.”

 I barked out a laugh before I could stop myself. It came out rough, edged with disbelief. “Of course he did.”

 She flinched at the sound and I reined it in, forcing myself to soften my tone. This wasn’t her fault. She was just doing what she was told, same as everyone else in this place.

 “So,” I said, gesturing vaguely around the room, “care to explain why I’m not chained to a wall right now?”

 She shook her head quickly. “I don’t know anything more than that. I swear. I just clean rooms and carry messages.”

 I sat in the chair opposite her, letting her unwrap the crude bandages the guards had slapped on last night. The gashes across my ribs and arms were ugly, crusted with dried blood. She cleaned them gently, spreading the sharp-smelling salve.

 “You’re not afraid of me,” I observed.

 Aria met my eyes briefly. “Should I be?”

 “Most wolves are.”

 “I’m not a wolf.” After a brief pause, she shrugged, tying off a fresh bandage. “I’ve never seen a hybrid before, only heard stories. You don’t look like the monsters they describe.”

 I almost laughed. “Give it time.”

 She smiled but said nothing for a while.

 She wrapped the wound carefully. “You should rest after you eat.”

 I didn’t need more encouragement. The first spoonful nearly made me groan. Real food, seasoned and hot. I tore into the bread, barely pausing to breathe. Aria watched with quiet amusement.

 When I finally slowed, licking honey from my fingers, I asked, “What happens now?”

 “I don’t know,” she admitted. “The Alpha didn’t say. Only that you’re to stay here, and I’m to bring meals and whatever else you need.”

 I leaned back, studying her. She seemed genuine. No hatred in her eyes, just curiosity and a touch of pity. “You’re not worried I’ll snap your neck the moment you turn around?”

 Aria gathered the empty bowls. “If you wanted to hurt me, you’d have done it already. Besides, the door’s locked from the outside. And the Alpha would hear.”

 Right. Neighbour.

 She moved to leave, pausing at the door. “I’ll bring bathwater later, if you like. And fresh clothes.”

 The door closed softly behind her.

 By the time I was done eating, my head felt clearer, my limbs a little less like dead weight.

 I leaned back against the pillows, eyes closing despite myself.

 That was when it hit me.

 His scent. Lyr snapped awake in recognition.

 My pulse kicked up, every nerve screaming in awareness. I sat bolt upright, my eyes flying open, turning toward the wall on my right.

 He was on the other side.

 I didn’t see him. I didn’t hear footsteps. But I knew. Every instinct I had pointed unerringly in that direction, tugging, demanding.

 I could feel Lyr pacing restlessly. 

 I crawled onto the bed, exhaustion pulling at me again. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to block out the faint trace of his scent that somehow still lingered in the room.

 Sleep took me fast, but even in my dreams, I felt him on the other side of the wall.