Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Chapter 165

Soren burst out of the Proctor’s office like a storm unleashed.

His golden eyes were blazing, his hands curled into fists, his entire body trembling with a fury that bordered on madness. The guards who had been standing outside the door scrambled to follow him, their footsteps echoing in the corridor.

"Your Highness! Please, wait!"

"Get out of my way!" Soren didn’t slow down. He didn’t even turn. His mind was a whirlwind of rage and fear and desperate, clawing panic. Freya. His little sister. Taken. Alone. Scared.

He was going to find her. He was going to kill whoever had taken her. He was going to—

A hand grabbed his arm.

He spun, his hand shooting out, his fingers closing around a throat. He slammed the person against the wall, his face inches from theirs, his golden eyes blazing with the light of the Lycan.

Valeria stared back at him. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

She didn’t struggle. She didn’t fight. She just looked at him, her dark eyes wide, her face pale, her hands hanging limp at her sides. She didn’t even try to pry his fingers from her neck.

"Soren," she whispered. Her voice was strained, barely audible. "Think of your sister. How scared she must be. She needs you to be calm. She needs you to be smart."

His grip didn’t loosen.

"Think of your mother. Your father. They need you. They can’t lose you too."

Still, he didn’t move. His hand tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. She gasped, her face turning red, but she didn’t stop.

"Think of Nyra."

The name hit him like a physical blow.

His grip loosened. His hand fell away. Valeria crumpled to the floor, coughing, gasping for air. Several lecturers rushed forward, helping her up, checking her throat.

Soren stood frozen, his chest heaving, his golden eyes slowly fading back to their normal dark color. The rage was still there, burning beneath the surface. But the madness—the blind, desperate madness—had receded.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Don’t apologize." Valeria’s voice was hoarse, but her eyes were steady. "Just find your sister. That’s all that matters."

The Proctor stepped forward, his face pale. "Your Highness, we need to approach this strategically. We need to—"

"I know." Soren took a deep breath, forcing himself to think. "I know. We need to be smart. We need to find her before they hurt her."

He turned and walked toward the exit, his strides long and purposeful. The guards fell into step behind him. The Proctor followed, still talking, but Soren barely heard him.

When he stepped outside, the morning sun was blinding. His eyes adjusted slowly, and when they did, he saw them, Corvin, Ragnar, Roderic, Lucian, Orion. They were standing in a tight cluster near the main gate, their faces grim.

"You heard," Soren said.

"We heard." Corvin stepped forward. "We’re coming with you."

"You don’t have to—"

"Yes, we do." Ragnar’s voice was firm. "Freya is family. We’re not letting you do this alone."

Soren looked at them his friends, his pack, the people who had stood beside him through everything. The gratitude was overwhelming, but he didn’t have words for it.

"Thank you," he said simply.

They nodded. And then they were moving, walking toward the carriages that would take them to the palace.

As Soren passed through the main gate, he saw Finn.

The sandy-haired boy was standing near the wall, his expression one of concern. He was with Jasper and Maureen and Marek, his face a perfect mask of shock and worry.

Soren paused. His gaze locked on Finn, on the face that had fooled everyone, on the eyes that hid so many secrets.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Soren continued walking. He climbed into the carriage without a word, and the others followed.

Finn watched them go, his expression never changing.

The palace was in chaos.

Servants rushed through the corridors, their faces pale with fear. Guards stood at every entrance, their hands on their weapons. And in the royal chambers, Queen Seraphina was sobbing.

She had been crying since the moment she heard the news. Her daughter, her baby taken from her bed in the middle of the night. The guards found unconscious. No sign of struggle. No trace of where she had been taken.

First it was Soren. The poison. The arrow. The months of not knowing if he would live or die. And now Freya. Her little girl. Her baby.

Who did I offend? she thought, her body wracked with sobs. What did I do to deserve this?

The King sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his face a mask of pain. He had no words of comfort—there were no words that could make this better. All he could do was hold her and wait.

And then Soren arrived.

He burst through the doors, his eyes wild, his face pale. When he saw his mother, he crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into his arms.

"Mother."

"Soren." She clung to him, her tears soaking into his tunic. "They took her. They took your sister."

"I know." His voice was thick with emotion. "I know. But I’m going to get her back. I promise you."

He held her for a long moment, letting her cry. Then he looked at his father over her shoulder. The King’s eyes were wet, but his expression was steady. He nodded slowly.

Soren nodded back.

A silent understanding passed between them. They would find Freya. They would bring her home. And they would make the people who did this pay.

It took less than an hour to assemble the search party.

Soren stood at the head of the group, dressed in his training gear, his sword strapped to his hip. The guards and soldiers who had been selected for the mission stood in neat rows before him, their faces grim and determined. Corvin, Ragnar, and Roderic stood at his side, along with Lucian and Orion.

"We don’t know who took her," Soren said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "We don’t know where they’ve gone. But we know this—whoever they are, they made a mistake. They took my sister. And I will not rest until she is returned. No matter what it takes. No matter how long it takes."

The soldiers nodded. The guards saluted.

Soren turned to his father, who stood at the palace steps. The King’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes were proud.

"Bring her home," the King said.

"I will."

Queen Seraphina rushed forward, her face streaked with tears. She grabbed Soren’s face in her hands and kissed his cheeks.

"Come back safely," she whispered. "Both of you. Please."

"I will, Mother." Soren kissed her forehead. "I promise."

The King patted his shoulder. "Be careful."

"I will."

Soren climbed onto his horse a massive black stallion that had been his since he was a boy. The others mounted their own horses. The gates opened.

And they rode out.

Freya woke to darkness.

She was lying on something hard—a stone floor, cold and damp beneath her cheek. Her head throbbed. Her wrists were bound. The air smelled of mold and decay.

Where am I?

She tried to move, but her body ached. She remembered—the academy, the guards, the hands that had grabbed her in the night. She remembered the cloth pressed to her face, the sweet smell that had made her dizzy, the darkness that had swallowed her.

They took me. Someone took me.

She forced herself to sit up, her heart pounding. The room was small and windowless, lit only by a single torch that flickered on the wall. There was a door, heavy, iron-bound and nothing else.

I have to get out. I have to escape. Soren will be looking for me. Mother and Father will be—

The door creaked open.

Freya’s breath caught. A figure stepped into the room tall and dark-haired, with cold eyes that gleamed in the torchlight.

Elias.

"Good," he said. "You’re awake."

"Where am I?" Freya demanded, her voice shaking despite her effort to sound brave. "What do you want?"

"All in good time, Princess." Elias smiled a cold, cruel expression. "For now, just know that you’re our guest. And as long as your brother does what we want, you won’t be harmed."

"My brother will find you. He’ll kill you."

"Perhaps. But not before we’ve achieved our goals." Elias stepped closer, his eyes glittering. "Your brother is predictable, you see. He loves you. He’ll do anything to protect you. And that—that is exactly what we’re counting on."

Freya’s blood ran cold. She understood, then she was leverage. A bargaining chip. A way to control Soren.

She wouldn’t let them.

She wouldn’t let them use her against her family.

But how could she stop them? She was bound, alone, powerless.

She thought of her brother, of his golden eyes and his strong arms and the way he had always protected her. She thought of her mother, who cried when she was hurt. She thought of her father, who had taught her to be brave.

I won’t give up, she thought. I won’t let them win.

She straightened her spine and met Elias’s eyes.

"You underestimate my brother," she said. "He’s stronger than you’ll ever know. And he won’t stop until you’re dead."

Elias laughed a cold, hollow sound.

"We’ll see, Princess. We’ll see."

He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Freya was alone in the darkness.

In a hidden chamber deep in the Shadowwood, Varek Astrlyn sat at the head of a long table, his face split in a cold smile.

The room was filled with his allies—Morgath, her dark robes pooling around her; Elias, still riding the high of the successful kidnapping; Xavier and Nikolai, their faces grim. And at the far end of the table, a figure cloaked in shadow.

"The princess is secure?" Varek asked.

"She’s in the holding cell, as planned," Elias confirmed. "No one saw us take her. The guards were dealt with. And now—" He smiled. "Now Soren will do exactly what we want."

"He’ll tear the realm apart looking for her," Xavier said. "The King will divert every resource to the search. The investigation into us will grind to a halt."

"Exactly." Varek nodded slowly. "The princess is not just leverage. She’s a distraction. A very effective distraction."

"And once the search has consumed their attention—" Morgath’s voice was cold. "We move against the palace. We destroy the Thornridge line once and for all."

A murmur of approval rippled through the room.

Varek rose from his chair and walked to the window. The Shadowwood stretched before him dark, twisted, endless. He had been hiding here for weeks, plotting, waiting, preparing. And now, finally, everything was falling into place.

"The Thornridge line ends with this generation," he said. "Aldric. Seraphina. Soren. Freya. All of them gone. The realm will fall into chaos. And from the ashes, I will rise. I will take the throne. And no one—no one—will be able to stop me."

He turned to face his allies, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Their end is coming. And it starts now."