The Lycan's Queen : A tale of fate

Elara's consciousness seemed to guide her steps toward the dungeons—she didn't even remember the path leading there, but the image of the damp, grim corridors was vivid in her mind. It was as if her body knew where to take her before her mind could catch up. Each step was laced with anger, her thoughts swirling like a storm.

'Was it ever truly about my sickness ?' The question churned in her mind as she marched forward. Behind her, the echo of boots signaled the presence of five guards trailing her every move, but she didn't spare them a glance. She was fixated on her goal.

As she approached the gates to the dungeons, two sentries stood rigid, their faces blank but their bodies tense. She could see it in their stance—they wouldn't let her through. But Elara was no longer inclined to plead or argue.

"Open the gates," she commanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.

The guards exchanged hesitant glances, but the weight of her authority bore down on them. They obeyed, the heavy gates creaking open. Elara stepped forward, a strange sensation rippling through her. Something about this newfound authority, this sheer power, coursed through her veins like a heady, intoxicating drug.

I am their Queen . This is my castle . They obey me .

For a fleeting moment, she wondered why she hadn't used this same strength against him—the King. The thought fueled her steps as she descended into the dark, suffocating depths of the dungeon.

The corridor stretched before her, its walls slick with dampness and despair. The stench of decaying bodies and stale blood clawed at her senses, forcing bile to rise in her throat. She pressed on, her anger overriding the nausea.

The darkness wrapped around her, but her resolve burned brighter.

As she descends the stone staircase, each step echoed like a hollow drumbeat in the suffocating silence. The flickering torchlight barely pierced the darkness, leaving long, unsettling shadows dancing along the damp walls. The air grew colder, heavier, the dampness clinging to her skin like unseen hands.

At the base of the stairs, she found herself standing in a corridor she recognized all too well. A shiver ran down her spine. This was the place she had been kept before, the one etched in her memory as a cage of despair. The sound of her own breathing filled her ears—until it didn't.

At first, the voices were faint, indistinct murmurs that seemed to rise from the very stones beneath her feet. Then, they grew louder, though not clearer. Thousands of voices, all speaking at once, their tones blending into an incomprehensible cacophony. Whispers of anguish, cries of desperation, and fragments of words she could not piece together filled the air.

She froze, her heart pounding as her eyes darted to the shadows. Were the guards still behind her? She turned to look, but the staircase was empty. She was utterly alone.

A chill crept over her, and the corridor seemed to warp, stretching unnaturally long, the walls pressing inward. Her breath hitched. The whispers stopped, plunging the space into an unbearable silence that seemed to scream louder than any sound.

The air felt suffocating now, heavy with something unseen yet profoundly unsettling. Her courage faltered, and her steps quickened. She needed to move, to get to the cell for - she didn't even know why, but her instincts screamed at her to go.

Then, the whispers returned, louder, sharper. This time, they were closer. Too close.

The corridor seemed alive with them, the voices wrapping around her like tendrils, brushing against her skin, filling her ears. "Elara…" The sound of her name, or was it? She couldn't tell if the word was real or her mind breaking under the pressure.

Fear turned her steps into a desperate sprint, her shoes slamming against the stones as she made her way to the cell she once called her prison. Her chest burned, but her fear pushed her forward, her pulse hammering like war drums in her ears.

Then, a surge of adrenaline hit her, a wave so powerful it felt like fire coursing through her veins. Her legs stumbled under its force, and she hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her knees and palms, but the voices drowned it out. They were everywhere now, growing louder, their whispers warping into distorted cries.

Curled on the cold, unforgiving floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, Elara trembled as the sound built to an unbearable crescendo. The voices surrounded her, pressing against her mind like claws tearing at her sanity. Some screamed, others laughed, and still others murmured unintelligible words that blended into a chaotic, warped melody. It was as if the very walls were alive, suffocating her in their unrelenting madness.

And then, she screamed. It was not just a sound but a release of every ounce of fear, despair, and confusion trapped within her. The cry tore from her throat, raw and piercing, echoing into the void around her. As the scream tore through her, she felt an overwhelming loss of energy, like her very soul had been ripped from her body and taken somewhere else.

The world around her faded into nothingness. The damp chill of the stones beneath her disappeared, replaced by a sensation of floating in an empty abyss. Time seemed to stretch, and she felt weightless, her body no longer tethered to the physical world. There was no pain, no fear—only a strange, numbing void. It felt like eternity, and yet it was over in an instant.

Just as suddenly, she was back. Her body, limp and trembling, relaxed against the floor as the tension drained from her. Her scream died away, replaced by a haunting silence. The voices were gone. The suffocating pressure in the air had lifted, leaving behind only an eerie stillness.

And then, a sound broke through the quiet: the sharp clang of metal hitting stone. The noise echoed down the corridor, each impact sending shivers through her. It was as though something—someone—had been unleashed.

Her gaze snapped up, her breath hitching. A towering figure loomed before her, its massive silhouette shrouded in darkness. Her vision swam, making the creature seem monstrous, with a beastly form that exuded raw power.

But as her eyes adjusted, the distorted shape became clearer. Before her stood a large white wolf, its fur glistening like frost under the faint light. Its piercing blue glowing eyes locked onto hers, holding her in place as if it could see straight into her soul.

Elara's breath caught, her heart hammering in her chest. Before she could process what she was seeing, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from behind. The guards were coming, their frantic pace promising rescue.

But they were late.