Chapter 9
Nine
A Game of Truths
“War is harsh.” Commander Kragthorne’s voice rung with steel as he addressed us. “When in enemy territory, trust among your fellow squad mates is crucial.” He paced in a circle, boots stomping with each movement, gaze piercing through the crowd.
“This game is one of trust. Each squad enters a dungeon and the first to escape wins. Simple right?” Murmurs broke out across the crowd.
“Listen closely.” He paused, running a hand over his greying beard.
“Only truth can unmake what fear has chained. Answer wrong and beware the price. Answer right and be free tonight.” He nodded, then the Iron Guards pressed in around us, pushing us into a small dark room.
A cell.
Breathe, I told myself. The priest is dead. There are no knives. No chains.
“Sit with your backs to the wall,” Lucy said, blocking the exit to the small stone cell.
I sat against the cold, damp stone, a shiver tearing through me.
Orin crossed the room, choosing to sit next to me.
His eyes gleamed with a hint of concern in the light of a single torch flickering next to the heavy door.
I didn’t want it too close, but I knew it would.
“Good luck,” Lucy said, placing her hands against the stone wall.
It rumbled beneath our backs as she closed her eyes in concentration.
Coldness pressed around my wrists. I gasped, tugging against the restraints that now chained me to the wall.
No. No. No. I struggled, thrashing against the stone binders. They tightened, gripping me painfully.
“Lyra! Stop fighting it!” Orin yelled at me. But it was too late, the memory drowning me.
“Stop fighting it, Princess.” The priest ran his knife softly against my bare skin. The chains dug into my wrists. Into my ankles. My blood dripped on the floor. He always bled me first. He liked me weak. He shoved my nightdress above my thighs, unbuckling his belt—
“Lyra!” Orin’s voice pulled me from the memory.
I stilled, glaring at him through a mess of silver hair that covered my face.
“Psycho,” Hadley rasped. I bared my teeth at her.
“Why are they tighter now?” Roman asked, tapping his foot against the floor. He was right, the shackles were now bruising.
“They are enchanted. If you physically try to break them, they will tighten,” Orin answered.
“And by the sounds of it, if we answer wrong, they are going to hurt us,” Bohdi added.
“Kinky,” Riven said, examining his wrists.
“I wish I could hit you right now,” Dreya said, rolling her eyes at him.
“Could we be serious for a minute and get out of these damned chains?” Hadley glared daggers at them both, my finger marks still bruised across her throat.
I tried to steady my breathing, focusing on the coolness of the stone pressing into my back.
“Commander Kragthorne said, ‘only truth can unmake what fear has chained’,” Orin recited.
“So, we just need to say something that is true, and we will be free?” Roman asked.
Orin shrugged but looked hesitant. “It seems too easy.”
“I’ll go first,” Riven said with a shrug. “I am devilishly handsome.” He held up his wrists, staring at them, waiting for them to unclasp.
Riven’s eyes rolled back. He slammed to the ground like a puppet, the chain protruding from the wall groaning with the effort.
His muscles spasmed so violently I thought his bones would snap.
Then he stilled, gasping like he’d been drowned.
It stopped as suddenly as it began. Riven wheezed as he rolled into a half-seated position. “Oh. That fucking sucked.”
“I told you you’re not as handsome as you think,” Dreya snorted. He placed a hand over his heart and frowned at her.
“Someone willing to try an actual truth?” Dreya asked.
“I didn’t really want to be an Iron Guard,” Roman mumbled, staring at the ground in front of him.
He gritted his teeth as his head lolled against the stone, legs shaking violently.
He gasped as it ended, looking at Riven.
“You weren’t wrong, that sucked.” Sweat beaded against the bronzed skin despite the cold.
“Was that actually true?” Hadley whispered. Roman nodded once. “So perhaps the answer is not just any truth.” Hadley moved to her knees, excitement flittering over her pixie-like features. Orin tilted his head, eyebrows drawn.
“What fear has chained…” he muttered.
“Our fears,” she finished. “They want us to bare our weaknesses.”
Bile rose in my throat.
“I fear that I’ll keep failing the people I love.” Orin braced, but nothing happened. His shackles groaned. My heart ached, a mere echo of the pain I had felt when he left me.
“They loosened!” He beamed.
“Wow, that was deep man.” Riven raised an eyebrow at him and Orin glared.
Bohdi hung his head, blond strands that had been tucked behind his ears slipping in front of his face. “I’m fearful that someone else will die because of me.” His shackles groaned and released. He said nothing as he rubbed at his wrists absently.
“You were just a kid, Bohdi. It wasn’t your fault,” Orin said. Bohdi gave him a tight-lipped smile and looked away. I didn’t need to be an empath to feel his pain.
“I fear that I won’t develop a Sanctum,” Hadley said. Her shackles groaned.
“I fear I will fail as this squad’s leader, that I’ll mess up the first responsibility I’ve been given.” Orin’s shackles crumbled, he glanced around the room at each of us.
“Come on, guys,” he said. “I know its uncomfortable. But the quicker you come out with your fears, the faster we win. Hurry up.”
Roman sighed and tipped his head back against the stone.
“I’m fearful that I’ll die before I can avenge my brother.
He died in the Fae realms at their hands.
He was thrown back through the gate in pieces as a warning.
” Roman glared at his shackles. They groaned, loosening but not letting go.
“Fine! I am fearful of the Fae,” he whispered angrily.
The shackles exploded. He stood, brushing the stone debris off his pants. “This is a stupid game.”
“Agreed,” Riven said.
“I fear I will die, and my family will starve in the slums.” Dreya spoke directly to the stone cuffs, ignoring us all.
They groaned. She raised her eyebrows, surprised they hadn’t released her.
“I worry I’m not good enough to make it,” they groaned again.
“I fear the return of the Gods.” Stone debris exploded over her, and she adjusted her dark brown braids, completely unbothered that she had just shared something vulnerable to a room of strangers.
“That is your only fear that makes sense,” Riven said lazily. The orange torch light flickering over his smirk. “If they come back, they will be merciless.”
Dreya’s eyes cut to me, lingering for a moment too long and filling with weariness, as if she were seeing me differently in the torchlight.
The look unsettled me more than it should have.
I didn’t know what she saw when she looked at me, only that her gaze carried the weight of suspicion I didn’t understand.
“We need to hurry up,” Orin said, pacing the small area like a trapped animal.
“I’ve always feared that people don’t actually like me,” Hadley rasped, her voice still croaky from my hands squishing her windpipe. Her shackles broke free.
“Your fear is also correct.” Riven smiled sweetly at her. She raised her middle finger at him and crossed her arms. Riven looked at me, flashing his dimples in a challenging smirk. We were the last two. The most guarded.
“I fear nothing,” he said. He gritted his teeth as his body contorted with pain. It lasted longer than before, as if punishing him for lying so freely.
“Why would you do that to yourself?” I whispered.
Riven laughed, the sound loose and reckless.
He tipped his head back against the stone, dishevelled strands of hair falling over his brow as torchlight skimmed over the hard planes of his body.
His eyes snapped to mine. Grey but with an underlying brightness, alight with something feral.
His smile slowed, turning deliberate as his gaze held mine, unflinching.
The air tightened between us. His chest rose with a slow breath, muscles rolling beneath skin as if he were savouring the effect he was having on me.
“Oh, darling. I like the pain,” his voice had dropped an octave, and he ran his tongue along his teeth.
“Lyra?” Orin asked. I reluctantly dragged my eyes from Riven to Orin’s tension filled face.
“If I don’t answer, will the time run out eventually?”
Orin shook his head. “No, we will be trapped in this room for as long as it takes.”
What was there to even say when I feared so many things?
“I fear my father,” I whispered. The shackles loosened their relentless grip, and I sighed.
“Keep going Lyra,” Dreya encouraged with a small smile. I took her encouragement and took a deep breath. “I fear that I will be killed.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then pain invaded my senses in aggressive waves. White. Hot. Blinding. I gritted my teeth.
It left as quickly as it had started. I opened my eyes, panting. Riven was watching me closely, his eyes filled with curiosity.
“I fear I’m going to break everything I touch,” he whispered, keeping his eyes trained on me. His shackles groaned.
“I’m scared of chains,” I said back, pushing myself up onto my knees. The shackles released a mere fraction. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hadley raise her eyebrow. Orin looked away.
“The dark frightens me,” Riven said casually.
“Good Gods, why are you two so stubborn? It obviously needs something that is deep for you. Just get on with it,” Roman groaned, pacing the cell like a caged animal.
“I fear I will never be free,” I whispered, cheeks reddening with shame.
Crack.
“But most of all, I fear myself.”
My shackles exploded, debris scattering over my scratchy cotton shift. I swiped a single tear away with a shaky hand. Dreya offered me her hand, helping me to stand.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tilting my chin higher and avoiding eye contact with everyone.
“Just you now, Riven. Come on, get us out of this cell,” Orin encouraged.
“Why?” Riven scoffed. “So, you can fool command into thinking you’re fit for leadership?”
Orin closed the distance in two strides and drove his fist into Riven’s face. The crack echoed off stone.
Riven’s head snapped to the side. Riven’s lip split as he grinned up at Orin, blood smearing against his white teeth and dripping down his chin. “That was cute,” he said hoarsely. “But I honestly thought you’d hit harder.”
Orin snarled and slammed his fist into Riven’s stomach. The breath tore from him in a sharp, ugly sound, his body folding for half a second before he straightened again, laughter bubbling up dark and broken. “You can do better than that.”
Orin’s fist came down again. And again. Riven’s head rocked back against the wall, a dull crack as stone met bone. Bruising bloomed across his cheek, dark and fast, his lip split further, blood smearing along his jaw. But Orin’s blows kept coming, relentless and furious.
“Stop,” Dreya snapped, stepping forward, but Roman caught her arm, shaking his head hard.
“Bohdi?” I asked, my voice higher pitch with panic that had started to pump through my veins. What if Orin didn’t stop?
Bohdi hovered at the edge of it, shooting me an apologetic grimace. His hands flexed uselessly, torn between intervening and knowing Orin wouldn’t listen.
Riven sagged against the wall, chest heaving, a wet chuckle spilling from him even as Orin’s knuckles drove into his ribs.
“Orin, stop!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I lunged forward. “You’re going to kill him!”
Another punch landed. Riven coughed, blood flecking the stone, his cheek split now.
I grabbed Orin’s arm, desperation burning through me. “Please!”
Orin hesitated, breath ragged. There was no anger in his eyes, just a quiet satisfaction as he looked down at the bloodied mess he had made.
Riven lifted his head slowly, a dark grin still spread across his gore-stricken face.
I crouched down in front of him, panic clawing up my throat. “Please, Riven,” I begged. “Just say your fear.”
For a heartbeat, the room went still as if everyone was waiting for Riven to give in.
Riven’s gaze found mine through the haze, one eye nearly shut, the other sharp and lucid. His grin faltered, just barely, something dark flickering beneath it.
“…No,” he rasped.
I placed my hand against his cheek. “Please,” I whispered again.
He sighed, leaning into my touch and letting his eyes flicker shut.
“That I will never be worthy of love,” he whispered into the dim light, voice cracking with emotion that made my heart squeeze.
The shackles exploded from around Riven’s wrists and I stood back. Riven stood slowly, when he grunted in pain and stumbled, I tried to steady him. But he pushed me away. He gave a mock bow and the door flew open. We followed Orin out into the dungeon’s walkway.
Commander Kragthorne sat on a chair in the centre of the room.
“You are thirteenth. Be smarter next time. A squad must work together and have each other’s backs. Your squad has…” He paused, running a hand down his beard and looking at Riven’s bloodied and bruised face. “Issues,” he finished.
“Now get out of my sight and sleep while you can. Training begins in two hours.”
Orin and Bohdi saluted our commander. He stared at us until we did the same, then gave us a dismissive nod.
We walked in silence back to our room, the sound of boots scuffing over stone filling the awkwardness.
I felt exposed, a part of me bared to these strangers that no one had seen before.
Though judging by their downcast gazes, they all felt just as violated as I did.
I knew their deepest fears. They knew mine.
And somehow, that made them feel like more than strangers even though I had known them for three days.