The One Who Stilled The Blades

Elara gets pulled into the book, not gently but violently. The world spins, her body feels like it's breaking apart. Cold air hits her skin as she falls on the rough surface being unconscious.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

Then a sound.

The distant rush of water echoed in Elara's ear, pulling her back. A sharp groan escaped her lips as she clutched her head tightly. Forcing herself upright only to slip on the wet rocks beneath her.

She fell again.

A hiss left her as a pain shot through her arm. Mud clung to her skin, and a deep scratch on her lower arm oozed blood. Carefully she touched it, wincing. Her oversized cardigan was damp and dirty, clinging uncomfortably to her as she pushed herself up.

Her breath came uneven.

Elara looked around.

A waterfall cascaded nearby, its beauty almost unreal. But the forest surrounding it felt wrong.

Too quiet. Too still. Mesmerizing and yet mesmerizing enough to make her chest tighten.

How did I get here??

Her thoughts scrambled, trying to piece together something, anything.

And then

It hit her.

The book.

The strange book that had glowed beneath her touch.

Her heart skipped.

"Did I...... teleport here?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Or the book..... consume me?"

The idea sounded insane.

Impossible.

Yet nothing about this felt real.

A sudden crunch of footsteps snapped her out of it. Elara froze.

Someone was coming.

She turned slowly and her breath caught.

Four men emerged from the shadows,

heavily built, dressed in armor.

Guards.

The guards looked at her keenly, she looked different to them, she had worn strange clothes, she looked like she didn't belong here.

“Who sent you?” one of the guards asked sharply.

Elara blinked, panic rising in her chest. “I– I don’t even know where I am!” she said. The guards began circling her, which only made her more nervous.

“Did I step into some ancient drama shoot?” she added quickly, forcing a shaky laugh. “Look, if this is something like that, I’ll just leave. Just tell me which location this is.” Elara tried her best to sound calm, but she was internally freaking out as the guards surrounded her.

The guards exchanged confused glances, clearly unsure what the strange girl was talking about.

“Take her to the king. He will handle her,” one of them suggested, and the others nodded in agreement.

Elara panicked at his words. She tried to run, but strong hands grabbed her, pinning her in place. She struggled, then froze

Clang.

A sword pressed against her throat.

She tried to use her fencing skills, but her body refused to move. She was too terrified to even lift a finger. A small yelp escaped her lips when someone yanked her hands behind her back and tied them.

A guard covered her face with a black cloth. Only a sliver of her vision remained, the surroundings turning blurry as the guards forcefully dragged her forward.

“You’re coming with us,” one of the guards ordered.

A horse was brought before her. Through the cloth, she could barely make out the large animal. She knew how to ride, but before she could say anything, she was lifted and seated in front of one of the guards.

Elara stiffened, uncomfortable. She tried to wiggle free, but stopped when a harsh voice spoke from behind her.

“Try anything, and you won’t like the consequences.”

The journey from the forest to the palace was long. When they finally arrived before the royal gates, Elara was harshly shoved off the horse. Barefoot, she stumbled as stones pricked her feet, yet the guards showed no mercy, dragging her across the cold courtyard and into the palace.

The sound of armored footsteps echoed against the stone walls. Courtiers turned, whispering, watching as guards hauled in a girl dressed in strange clothes. She was dragged through the grand hall and brought before the throne.

In the Throne Room

At the far end of the vast chamber, seated upon an elevated platform, was the king. His presence alone commanded silence. His sharp, cold gaze followed the guards as they forced Elara to her knees.

The king looked down at her. Around him, everyone in the throne room stared at the girl kneeling on the floor—barefoot, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, her face partially covered with a black cloth. Murmurs spread among the guards, while the queen watched in visible confusion.

The princess side-eyed the girl, kneeling slightly away from her father, yet still before him.

"What is the matter? Why have you dragged this girl here? Her clothes… they look different. Who is she?" the king asked firmly, his voice cold and demanding.

Elara flinched at the dominating tone. Fear coiled tightly in her chest. Since her mother's death, this was the first time she had felt so completely vulnerable.

One of the guards dropped to one knee beside her.

"Your Majesty, we found her near the outer forest at the boundary of our lands and the Dead moon pack. She appeared… suspicious. She could be a mole sent by them."

"Moles like her face my sword before they face me. Escort her to the prison," the king ordered.

Panic surged through Elara. She twisted violently, freeing her hands from the rope despite the burn it left across her wrists. She ignored the pain.

Her gaze shifted to the guard beside her, still kneeling. A sword rested in his waistband. Her vision blurred, but she didn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, she yanked the weapon free and pressed the blade against his throat.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

The king looked amused. The others in the throne room froze before drawing their swords. Steel flashed in every direction.

Elara moved.

She fought instinctively, her blade cutting through the air as she followed the sound and movement around her. The sword felt natural in her hand, as though she had done this a thousand times before.

She disarmed one guard, then another, then a third, careful not to take their lives. A fourth attacked from behind, aiming for her head. She dodged, but the blade sliced through the cloth covering her face.

The fabric fell.

A collective gasp filled the hall.

She looked ethereal, as if carved by the moon itself. Her dark brown wavy hairs flowed wildly as she moved, and her hazel- brown eyes burned with fierce determination.

She ducked another strike, but a blade grazed her upper arm. A sharp cry escaped her lips as the sword tore through her cardigan. Blood slowly seeped from the cut.

Steel clashed against steel as Elara barely avoided another blow.

"Stop resisting!" one of the guards barked.

"I'm not your enemy!" she shot back, breath uneven as she blocked again.

The throne room, meant for order and authority, had dissolved into chaos.

Then,

The massive doors creaked open.

The sound echoed through the hall, sharp enough to cut through the clash of swords.

Everything slowed.

The True blooded Alpha Prince entered.