All Chapters of THE CAPTIVE'S LOVE: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Inside the Inner Circle of the Outer Sanctum, the sacred room once reserved solely for silence now raged and trembled.The central flame—usually tranquil, blue-white and unchanging—now roared a deep orange, its whips writhing madly toward the ceiling as if famished and unfed.Enza's gaze stayed on the fire, her voice a low, bitter quiver."It has begun."Calrex, iron-faced and aged, stood up."Too long we have argued. Too long we have allowed emotion cloud reason. The prophecy is unravelling in front of our very eyes, and yet she strays unpunished—with that. that anarchy in her belly."Judge Helix scowled. "You talk as though the child has already wrought havoc.""Have you not felt the shift?" Enza snarled. "The winds screaming through the sanctum spires? The disease spreading in the northern provinces? The portents that seep into our dreams like flame through snow?""She's run," grunted Elder Deyra, her hands shaking against the carved edges of her chair. "Run off into darkness. And

The cave was deathly quiet.A heavy shroud of magic encircled the entrance, spun by Emereah's hands and Vera's ancient incantations. There was no sound to escape. No light to flicker. No path to wind here—not through woods or flame.It was a lost place.A protected place.Or so they hoped.Emereah sat beside the fireless hearth, her fingers distractedly tracing the round of her belly. The child shifted gently within her—an ember under skin.Vera came back from the cave entrance, face drawn with concern. "Still nothing," she whispered, putting down a satchel of herbs. "No scouts. No howling. No trace of them."Emereah nodded, looking distant. "But they're looking."Vera sat beside her. "How do you know?""Because the air was off." Emereah's voice barely existed. "Because the connection between us—between him and me—shuddered last night. Like something had been announced. Like something… changed."She gazed off toward the stone wall, as though seeing beyond it, past the cliffs and accur

The days had quieted down.No thunder. No hunting horns. No secrets breathed on the wind.Only the soft rustle of trees in the valley below, the soft hush of morning dew dripping from leaves, and the quiet sound of Emereah's breath, slow and even as she sat cross-legged beside the flamepit.Her hand lay on her belly, round now — throbbing with heat. The child moved.Vera moved around the cave like a silent sentinel, always alert, always armed. But her eyes softened each time they landed on Emereah — her friend, her flameborn sister, now carrying something far more precious than rebellion.“You’re up early,” Vera murmured, setting down a basket of dried herbs and crushed fireroot. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”Emereah gave a faint smile. “The baby likes to dance at dawn.”Vera raised an eyebrow. "Your child's already as impatient as its mother. Saints preserve us.""I believe that saints are not involved with what is approaching," Emereah replied quietly.There was a silence — thi

The moisture of the lower dungeon stuck to walls like decay. Mold seeped in through cracks in stone. Drips sounded far away, a measured, maddening rhythm to the suffering of Rhovan's breathing.He swayed in iron chains bolted to the wall, arms above his head, limp body and bloodied. Burn marks seared his skin—an angry red branding from the interrogation rods. His lips were split, eyes almost swollen shut, but still aglow with defiance.They hadn't broken him.Not yet.Not even when they spoke her name in cruelty. Not even when they informed him that she carried Vladimir's child.He had not spoken. Because what was important now… wasn't where she was.It was that she was free.A change in the atmosphere froze him.Footfalls.Not the clang of guards. No oaths sworn. No shouted commands. Just the quiet, measured pace of boots on age-blackened stone—sure, deliberate.Rhovan didn't raise his head. Not yet.The footfalls halted before his cell. And then the massive iron door groaned open."

The secret vale was still—but too still.Fog huddled close to the ground, twining round roots and boulders like elderly spirits in quest of air. Overhead, the moon had broken through clouds, throwing silvery pale over the barrier stone that protected their haven. Emereah's hand was flat against it, warmth spreading from her palm into the runes inscribed by old lips.Vera stood behind her, blades sheathed but fingers quivering at her sides. Her senses, honed by years of shadow and blood, tingled."I don't like this," she whispered. "The wind's been dead for too long. Not even the trees are taking a breath."Emereah's eyes did not open. Her voice was husky. "It's not the wind.""What is it, then?""The veil." Emereah's eyelashes quivered, then her eyes snapped open, bright and burning. "Something's pushing against it."Vera moved closer, anchoring herself. "Do you feel him again?"Emereah's throat constricted. "No. Not him."Vera paused. "Then who?"Emereah swiveled slowly, one hand dri