Chapter 11

A silence fell.

Thick.

Brutal.

Final.

Freya wept on her knees, the ring still clasped in her trembling hand. The weight of her return was heavier than any blade.

I looked at Damon.

Then at her.

And the part of me that had cried, prayed, and bled for her… died all over again.

“I want her confined,” I said, voice like ice.

Freya gasped. “No. Rhea… please…”

“In the western tower,” I ordered. “No visitors. No light. No lies.”

“Rhea!”

But I turned away.

If I didn’t, I’d break.

If I didn’t, I’d fall to my knees and hold her like when we were children, hiding from thunder under the same blanket, dreaming of the world we’d conquer.

But that world was gone.

And so was the girl who once dreamed beside me.

She was his now.

Even if she didn’t realize it.

Even if she swore she wasn’t.

She’d brought his poison to my gates.

And I couldn’t afford to let sentiment ruin us.

Not again.

Not with war already devouring everything.

“Take her,” I said, quieter.

Damon obeyed.

Freya didn’t fight.

She just sobbed.

And when her footsteps vanished down the corridor, something inside me fractured.

*******

I stood alone in the war room, flames low, the air thick with smoke and blood.

On the table lay Father’s ring.

The one we buried in the pyre.

I picked it up.

It burned, not with heat, but with memory.

With betrayal.

Xavier was here.

Not in flesh, but in doubt.

In fear.

In Freya.

A storm howled outside.

And I knew… tonight, the walls wouldn’t sleep.

Because the war wasn’t just at our borders anymore.

It had slipped through the cracks.

It wore a familiar face.

I dropped the ring into the brazier.

Watched it melt.

And whispered the words my mother told me before battle:

“Kill the part of you that wants to be loved,

and what remains will be strong enough to win.”

So I did.

And in that moment, I became what they feared:

Not just their Alpha…

Their reckoning.

Their curse.

Their end.

The flames hissed as the ring vanished into molten gold.

I didn’t flinch.

Didn’t mourn.

Didn’t blink.

Mourning was for the dead.

And I wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

A knock broke the silence.

“Enter,” I said.

Damon stepped in, rain trailing off his cloak, eyes darker than usual.

“They’re restless,” he said. “The council. The soldiers. Whispers are spreading too fast.”

“Let them whisper,” I said. “Fear keeps them loyal.”

He hesitated. “And Freya?”

My jaw tightened.

“She’s not broken. Not yet. But Xavier didn’t send her back to win her freedom.”

“You think she’s a weapon.”

“No. A seed. Planted in our soil to rot us from within.”

Damon’s silence was answer enough.

He agreed.

I walked to the map table, where red lines bled into the south… Xavier’s territory.

“He’s building something,” I said. “An army not bound by blood or loyalty.”

“What, then?”

“Fear. Magic. Indoctrination. Maybe worse.”

I traced a line near the river.

“If we strike here, we cut off his supply lines. Smoke him out from the caves beyond Argan Vale.”

Damon nodded. “And Freya?”

I looked up.

“My sister died in that prison. What came back… is a shadow. And shadows lie.”

His face darkened. “Should I prepare?”

“Send scouts tonight,” I said. “And ready the execution square.”

He blinked. “Execution?”

“She needs to see it. What loyalty to him will cost. What I will become, if forced to choose between her and the realm.”

“You think she’s watching?”

“I know she is.”

Because somewhere behind those broken eyes… Freya was still in there.

And maybe, just maybe, she still wanted to be saved.

But I wasn’t her savior anymore.

I was her consequence.

*********

That night, I went to her.

Not as a sister.

As her Alpha.

The western cell was dark. No candle. No warmth. Just cold stone.

She sat in the corner, knees drawn, hair matted.

“Do you remember the sky over Dravhorn?” I asked.

She looked up, eyes hollow.

“The stars were so bright we thought the gods had spilled their jewels,” I said. “You named them all. Lied about every one.”

A ghost of a smile flickered.

Then died.

“You came to kill me?” she asked.

“No.”

“Pity.”

“I came to see if you’d done it yourself.”

She flinched.

I stepped closer, voice low. “Did you bring Xavier into our gates? Into our blood?”

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Then whispered, “He never left.”

Something cracked inside me.

“He’s in everything now,” she said, voice shaking.”

The food.

The wind.

The dreams.

I can’t sleep without hearing him.

I can’t breathe without choking on him.”

I turned away.

If I didn’t, I’d scream.

Instead, I said, “Then you’ll stay here. Until he’s out of you. Or until you die.”

She didn’t reply.

And I left her in the dark.

Because the war had come home.

And this time, I wasn’t sure we’d survive it.

FREYA’S POV

Darkness had a taste.

Bitter. Damp. Endless.

It wrapped around Freya’s throat like a noose, whispering Xavier’s name with every breath.

She hadn’t spoken in hours.

Days?

Time didn’t exist here. Only silence. Only stone. Only guilt, coiled like a serpent in her gut.

She still sat where Damon had thrown her, fingers numb, mind frayed.

Rhea’s voice echoed in her skull.

No visitors. No light. No lies.

She hadn’t meant to bring it back with her, the poison, the shadows.

But Xavier had followed. Not in chains or footsteps, but in whispers. In scars.

She clutched her arms, feeling the phantom sting of the mark he’d burned into her skin. Hidden beneath her dress, etched like a brand.

A reminder.

A curse.

“You are mine, Freya. Even if you run, your soul belongs to me.”

She rocked slowly, the way she used to as a child during storms.

But there was no Rhea now.

No blanket.

No whispered stories.

Only her thoughts.

And his voice.

“They’ll never forgive you.”

“They’ll never trust you again.”

“You’re already the weapon I need.”

She screamed, curling tighter, nails clawing at her scalp as if she could dig him out.

He laughed.

She hated that laugh.

Worse, she hated that a part of her still ached for his approval, the illusion that she mattered when he held her. Kissed her. Promised her light in his war.

But it was never love.

Just control.

And she was tired of being controlled.

She crawled to the wall and pressed her forehead to the stone. Her lips cracked open.

“Rhea… I didn’t mean to—”

Her voice broke.

“I didn’t know he’d follow me back.”

But she had.

Somewhere deep down, she always knew.

Xavier never let go.

Not in her dreams. Not in the carved ring she still carried. Not in the silence before dawn.

He was always there.

Feeding on the cracks in her loyalty until they fractured into fault lines.

Now Rhea hated her.

The kingdom feared her.

And Freya… didn’t know who she was anymore.

A spy?

A sister?

A victim?

A traitor wearing a broken girl’s face?

She turned to the sliver of light leaking through the barred window, barely a line. Barely hope. And let the tears fall.

For who she used to be.

For who she might never be again.

For the war she brought home.

“I want to be free,” she whispered.

But the storm answered, rumbling in the distance.

And Xavier’s voice slithered back:

“Freedom is a lie, Freya. You were born to kneel.”

Silence wrapped around her like chains. It pulsed. Crawled up the walls. Squeezed her until she forgot the sound of her own voice.

No visitors.

No light.

No lies.

But the worst lies lived in her own mind.

She curled tighter, body trembling, not from cold, but from everything caving in. The air itself felt heavy. Condemning.

Her fingers found the pendant beneath her collar, a keepsake. A curse. A gift from Xavier.

She’d tried to rip it off. Until her fingers bled.

But she hadn’t.

Not because it wouldn’t come off.

Because something in her wouldn’t let it go.

Shame, maybe.

Or fear.

Or the echo of his voice, still embedded in her skull.

“You’re nothing without me. They never loved you like I did.”

She slammed her fist against the stone.

“Shut up.”

The words came out thin and wild.

But the laughter inside her head didn’t stop.

He didn’t need to be here.

He’d already carved himself into her, a parasite she once mistook for a savior.

“I didn’t betray her,” she whispered, voice raw.

But the truth clawed at her.

She had.

Maybe not with poison. Or a blade. Maybe not even intentionally.

But betrayal doesn’t always look like treason.

Sometimes it just looks like weakness.

And Freya was full of cracks.

She remembered Rhea’s eyes, not angry. Worse. Disappointed.

It gutted her.

Because Rhea had always seen her.

Believed in her.

Even when she didn’t believe in herself.

Before the shadows.

Before obedience was survival.

Before Xavier rewired her until surrender felt like choice.

“You are mine. And mine alone.”

And maybe… maybe she’d believed it.

Once, she dreamed of standing beside Rhea in battle. Two sisters. Fire and fury.

Now, she was the reason Rhea had to look over her shoulder.

She was the rot beneath the gate.

“They’ll never forgive you,” Xavier whispered.

“And you don’t deserve it.”

She pressed her palms to her ears. Screamed.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know—”

But she had.

She chose to come back.

With the ring in her pocket.

With hope that Rhea would understand.

But Rhea wasn’t the scared girl under a blanket anymore.

She was Alpha now.

At war.

And Freya… Freya was the weapon forged in their enemy’s hands.

She sank to the floor again, curled like a dying flame.

And for the first time in years, she prayed.

Not for escape.

Not for forgiveness.

But for truth.

Because she didn’t know who she was anymore.

A sister?

A spy?

A puppet?

Or something far worse…

A blade, still waiting to be used.

The cold stone disappeared beneath her spine.

The tower dissolved.