Chapter 6
RAVENA
I blinked, my vision swimming as I tried to focus.
Strangely, there was no pain—no throbbing headache, no searing pain in my arm.
It wasn’t broken anymore. Confusion settled in as I took in my surroundings.
The walls around me were damp and shadowed, streaked with dirty water that dripped down in slow, steady rivulets.
Cracks snaked through the stone, jagged and deep, as if the place had been abandoned for years.
Cold iron bars enclosed me, their rusted edges biting into the dim light overhead.
The flickering glow cast eerie, shifting shadows across the floor, making the room feel even smaller.
I could hear the wind howling beyond the walls, a low hollow sound, and the rhythmic drip… drip…drip of water meeting stone.
I wasn’t anywhere I recognised, and that terrified me. Don’t even get me started on the smell.
I pushed myself upright, the cold metal beneath me sending a chill through my body. My fingers pressed against the smooth yet unforgiving surface of the table I had been lying on, my pulse quickening as my surroundings became clearer.
Then, I saw her.
A woman was chained to the floor in the corner of the room, her frail form barely covered by a thin, tattered white nightdress.
Well, it used to be white. Her deep brown hair cascaded down her back in tangled waves, marred by dirt and dried blood.
Cuts and bruises littered her pale skin, a haunting testament to the torment she had endured. Then I saw him
Tall and imposing, he stood in the centre of the room, clad in a deep blood-red suit that seemed to drink in the dim light.
His jet-black hair was slicked back, and his sharp features were chiselled with effortless cruelty.
But his eyes, endless pits of inky blackness, sent a cold dread curling down my spine.
King Lucian Draeven.
He gripped the woman by her hair, yanking her upright with a sickening ease. A heavy chain coiled around her ankle, the metal clanking against the stone floor as she whimpered. His look showed no kindness or hesitation in how he held her —a predator toying with his prey.
“Now, Selene, you will give me what I want.”
I gasped, my heart clenching at the name.
My mother. How was I witnessing this nightmare?
The woman before me was a shadow of the vibrant, fierce, kind mother I had known.
She looked so broken, so different from the radiant figure who had once fought to keep me safe.
Even during our flight from danger, she had radiated beauty and happiness, a beacon of strength.
Nobody should have to see the person they love most in this world suffer like this.
But here, in this dark, damp dungeon, she was a prisoner, subjected to King Draevens' cruelty. This was where he had kept her for months, torturing her for information about Velmore, and he continued his experiments long after the Ashen war. Before I had come along.
Despite her frailty, she still fought back.
She spat defiantly in his face; her spirit unyielding even in the face of brutal torment.
I felt a swell of admiration for her strength because I knew what she went through, but now I was seeing it with my very own eyes.
No matter how much he tried to break her, she remained unbowed, a fierce flame flickering in the dark.
“Like I’ve told you a million times before, I don’t know anything.” She rasped; her voice hoarse yet resolute. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’ll have to kill me first.”
Determination flashed in her eyes, even as she struggled against his chains that bound her. I pushed myself away from the metal surface and towards the bars, drawn to my mother. They can’t see me. This was a fragment of her past, a haunting memory replaying for me.
King Draevens' grip tightened as he pulled her closer, eliciting a whimper from her lips, and my heart twisted in response.
I gripped the cold metal bars, my knuckles turning white as I watched the torment unfold.
The anguish etched across her face lit a fire within me, a desperate urge to reach through time and space to protect her, to free her from this nightmare.
Lucian leaned in, inhaling deeply at the curve of her neck, his fangs glinting in the dim light. But he didn’t bite her.
“Then I only have one other use for you.” He murmured, yanking her head back cruelly.
Dark bruises and bite marks marked her skin, evidence of her past torment.
My stomach twisted violently. I knew exactly what an unwanted vampire bite felt like—the way it burned, how it stripped away any sense of control. The agony was unlike anything else.
“Magnus,” Lucian called lazily, his eyes never leaving her. “Tell them to prepare for her experiments. And if they fail…” His tongue flicked out, tracing the air between them like a predator savouring its next meal.
“Then she’s mine.”
Magnus gave a short nod, stepping closer to whisper something in the king’s ear.
The guards moved swiftly, breaking the chains and dragging her across the stone floor that was covered in dry and fresh blood.
She thrashed weakly, her body frail but her spirit unwavering.
I lurched forward, desperate to stop them.
I tried to scream her name, to call it, to do anything—but nothing came out. My voice was stolen, just like my power to change this. All I could do was stand here, watching helplessly as my mother was hauled away, knowing exactly what awaited her.
A cold, crushing despair wrapped around my chest, my heart fracturing with every step they took. The room began to distort, the figures dissolving into shadows before vanishing completely—leaving me alone in the dark, suffocating echoes of the past.
I woke up with a gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
This time, darkness did not surround me; I was staring up at the night sky, the stars scattered like shattered diamonds across the sky.
A comforting warmth cocooned me, and something solid wrapped around me, grounding me in the present.
Xarothar was looking down at me, his silver eyes concerned.
“You’re finally awake.” His tail curled around me, squeezing gently, a silent reassurance.
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest easing just enough to allow a small, tired smile. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
My breath hitched. “You saw?”
His eyes flickered, avoiding mine as he gazed past me, his expression unreadable. “I did.” His voice was softer.
A low growl rumbled through him, vibrating against my back, his annoyance simmering just beneath the surface.
“What’s wrong?” I tried to sit up, only to realise my arm was secured in a sling and the pain was reduced to a faint ache.
Xarothar moved carefully, helping me into a sitting position. The crisp winter breeze brushed against my skin, ruffling my hair as I took in my surroundings. And then I saw them, those piercing blue eyes watching me from the shadows.
“Cherry is awake.” Ronan drawled with a wicked grin, his gaze sweeping over me in quiet amusement. He held a bowl of something rich and savoury, the scent making my stomach tighten with hunger.
Oh, hell. He shouldn’t be here.
He must have noticed the panic flicker across my face because he carefully set the bowl on the ground, his movements slow. His sharp, blue eyes never left mine as he remained crouched, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said smoothly, his voice deep. “Besides, your dragon here would crush me before I ever had the chance.” He smiled at me lightly.
It was only then that I truly took in Xarothar's transformation.
The last time I was awake, he had stood at my height—now, even lying down, he was so much bigger.
His body had grown taller and broader, his black-silver scales darkening in a richer hue.
Low, jagged spikes ran along his snout and up the crest of his head, giving him an even formidable presence.
He was changing, and I had no idea what to expect, how much bigger he would grow.
Hiding Xarothar was going to become damned near impossible. Then it hit me, where were Magnus and the other soldiers? They would go straight to the king if they survived.
Panic clawed at my chest, but Xarothar's voice rumbled through my mind. “No need to worry, Raven, your hunter handled it.”
“My hunter?”
He just hummed in reply.
I snapped my gaze back to Ronan, who was still crouched nearby, watching me like I might bolt. “You killed them?”
He gave an easy shrug, mischief dancing in those wicked blue eyes that I already liked the look of. “Kind of my job, Cherry. Though, I gotta say… playing knight in shining armour for a pretty little damsel?” His grin turned sharp, teasing.
“A total perk.”
“I am not a damsel, and my name is not Cherry,” I grumbled out, crossing my arms, well, as much as I could with one in a damn sling.
Ronan let out a soft laugh, the kind that was annoyingly cute and entirely at odds with the whole lethal hunter thing he had going on. His hunter gear clung to him, and it was entirely too distracting.
“Well, Cherry, your dragon wasn’t exactly chatty, so I had to improvise.” His grin was all mischievous, for just a second, something darker flickered in his eyes.
“I’m Ronan, by the way,” he added, flashing that annoyingly perfect smile.
“I know.”
His brows rose in interest. “Oh? Been keeping tabs on me, have you?”
I snorted. “Please. You talk loud enough for the entire realm to know your name.”
He laughed, completely unbothered. “And yet, you remembered it. Cute.”
I crossed my arms. “It's hard to forget a name when it’s attached to that much ego.”
“Oof,” he winced dramatically. “Sharp tongue. I like that.”
“You’d like a cactus if it talked back,” I muttered.
“Only if it looked like you,” he said with a wink.