Chapter 2

Any mismatch of names?

Lys’s POV

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was heaviness in my chest, pressing hard like someone was sitting on me. Each breath scraped my throat, dry and sharp, as though I had been swallowing dust for days. 

My body ached, the kind of ache that never truly goes away, the kind that reminds you that you’ve been broken for too long.

I turned my head slowly, forcing my eyes to focus.

Then I saw Laurent  there.

He  sat beside the bed. 

His elbows rested on his knees, his hands loose but close enough that I knew he could reach for me in an instant, his storm-grey eyes were locked on mine, too intent and too full. 

His brows pulled together and his jaw tightened. His  face was unreadable, but his concern was all over him— the way he leaned close, the way he stilled when I moved, like I was something fragile.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice quiet, softer than I remembered, almost careful.

I swallowed hard, the motion painful. My body screamed at me to stay down, but I pushed myself up anyway, my arms shaking.

He moved quickly, his hand halfway to mine before he stopped merely inches from my arm. “Lys… don’t move too quickly, you’re not strong yet. You need rest… lots of rest.”

Rest?

That word felt like a mockery.

I had rested once, in chains, on cold stone floors, in filth and blood. Rest had been forced on me, and I had learned it was not a gift.

My chest burned as I forced the words out. “I am leaving.”

His head snapped up. His eyes widened like I had stabbed him. “Leaving? Lys, you can barely sit. Come on,” he chuckled. “You are safe here… with me.”

Safe.

Another cruel word.

I shook my head slowly, pain shooting down my spine. “No! This is not my home anymore,”  I whispered.

I watched the words hit him, his lips parted but no sound came. “Lysl…” he whispered.

I turned to him fully, letting him see the fire behind my tears. “I cannot stay here, Laurent. Not in this bed or with her here.” My voice shook, but I forced it out anyway. “I don’t belong here anymore.”

He looked shattered, his throat moved up and down as he swallowed. His jaw clenched like he wanted to argue, but his voice came low instead. “Then where will you go?”

My hands gripped the sheets until my knuckles turned white. “The only place I might still feel comfort— my parents’ house.”

For a split second, something in him cracked. His eyes darkened, his lips pressed together, and the concern on his face changed, slipped into something else. 

Though he tried to hide it, but I saw it.

My heart stumbled. “What is it?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Why do you look like that?”

He dropped his gaze as the silence stretched and became loud between us.

The pain in my chest swelled until I could hardly breathe. “Did you never feel it?” My voice wavered, and my body trembling. “The bond. Did you never feel me?”

His head lifted, his eyes sharp with guilt.

“All those nights I screamed for you,” I whispered, the tears finally spilling hot down my cheeks. “All those years I prayed you would hear me. Did you never feel me? Did you never try to reach me?”

His chest rose heavy, and when he spoke, his voice was broken. “I felt it. Every day, I felt you, but then… one day it snapped. I stopped searching when the bond broke. I… I thought you were dead.”

The words slammed through me like a blade driven straight into my chest. My breath hitched, and my hands shook. The room shifted, and my eyes blurred with tears.

“You stopped searching,” I whispered.

He opened his mouth, eyes pleading, but I could not bear to hear him anymore.

His lips parted, his eyes full of regret, but I turned my face away. The pain inside me swelled so high I thought it might split my ribs open.

“I don’t belong here,” I said again, forcing my weak legs to move. 

I pushed up, even as my body shook under the effort. His hand twitched like he wanted to hold me, but he didn’t— instead, he let me go.

The silence as I walked out was louder than any words he could have spoken.

I left without looking back.

The walk to my parents’ house felt endless. My body was weak, my bones grinding together with every step, but my will dragged me forward. The village streets blurred around me, whispers following like shadows.

Their voices were a knife to my ears. They called me Luna, yet their eyes already bowed to another. I did not want their pity nor did I  want their awe. 

I only wanted something that felt like it still belonged to me.

My parents.

I told myself if anything remained in this world, it would be them.

 The house stood at the edge of the village, smaller than I remembered, worn by time. My chest pulled tight as I reached the door. 

I knocked once… no answer. I knocked again, harder… still nothing.

My stomach sank. My fingers shook as I wrapped them around the handle. It was unlocked.

I pushed the door open.

The air that rushed out was thick and stale, covered with dust and cobwebs clung to the corners. The furniture was getting worn off and the place was cold and untouched.

I stepped inside. My footsteps stirred the dust into the air, making it hard to breathe. 

“Mother?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Father?”

The silence answered.

I stepped inside, each foot stirring the dust, my heart pounding as my eyes scanned the room, searching desperately for any sign of life. 

On the table, yellowed papers lay scattered, one of them catching the light. My hands trembled as I reached for it.

It was an obituary… my parents’ obituary.

My vision blurred, my chest gave way and I collapsed to the floor, holding tight the paper as if I could tear the truth out of it.

“No,” I gasped. My breath came in sharp, ragged pulls. “No, no, no.”

The sound of my sobs filled the empty house— my tears soaked the paper until the ink bled. My body shook uncontrollably, tears pouring down my face until I could hardly breathe. I pressed my forehead to the floor, the dust sticking to my skin, and screamed.

I should have died. I should have stayed in that cell and let death claim me. What use was my survival if everyone I loved was gone?

I clawed at my chest as if I could rip out the ache that grew heavier with every heartbeat.

“I am alone,” I whispered. “Completely alone.”

My ears caught the faint clash of metal outside, distant.

I told myself it was nothing. Just training, just noise but then it came again, louder this time— the clash of steel, the growls of wolves mid-shift.

My body froze. My breaths came shallow, my vision swimming.

Not again.

The sound grew louder, and closer, until it was all I could hear. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.

I curled into myself, pressing my hands hard against my ears, rocking slightly as tears streamed down my face. My throat opened and a wail tore out of me before I could stop it. 

“Stop… stop… please, stop!”

The noise only grew, louder inside my head. Screams. Howls. The snap of bones. The smell of burning silver and blood.

I clawed at my scalp, nails scratching my skin, desperate to block it all out. My body rocked back and forth, sobs tearing from my throat.

I was back there— chained and beaten. 

“Please…” My voice broke. “Kill me. Just kill me.”

I waited for it. 

I waited for the pain that would finally end me.

“Why are you here?”

The voice came sharp, cutting through the noise. 

My body went stiff.

Then the clash broke out again— louder, real this time. Shouts and snarls erupted outside, metal slicing the air. The ground shook with the weight of fighting bodies.

The fight broke out in full force. Shouts, snarls, steel tearing through the night. My body shook harder, my arms covering my head as if it would protect me.

A hand grabbed me, strong and steady, pulling me from the ground. My body stiffened in terror, but the voice came, firm and close to my ear.

“You need to leave here. Now.”