Chapter 166

Chapter 166: Chapter 166

Nyra sat alone in her chamber, her legs crossed, her eyes closed, her hands pressed together. The silver light pulsed beneath her skin, weak, flickering, barely alive. She had been trying for hours, reaching out with everything she had, searching for a connection to the mortal realm.

Please, she thought. Please let me through. Please let me reach him.

The darkness behind her eyes was absolute. The silence was deafening. She had tried so many times, failed so many times, that hope was beginning to fade. Her body ached with exhaustion. Her power, still not fully mastered, flickered and sputtered like a candle in the wind.

But she couldn’t stop. Not when she could feel him, feel his fear, his desperation, his grief. The bond that connected them was stretched thin, but it was still there. And through that bond, she could sense that something terrible had happened.

Freya, she thought. Something’s happened to Freya.

She didn’t know how she knew. The bond didn’t give her words or images just feelings, impressions, the echoes of Soren’s emotions. And right now, those emotions were a storm: fear, rage, desperation, guilt. Something had happened to his sister. Something terrible.

She had to reach him.

She reached deeper, pushing past the exhaustion, past the pain, past the limits of her power. The silver light flared—brighter than before, hotter than before. She felt the thread of connection stretching, thinning, reaching across the void between realms.

And then—

A flicker.

A thread of light, thin as spider silk, stretching through the darkness. She grabbed it with her mind, held it tight, followed it through the void. And suddenly, she was somewhere else.

A forest. Dark and cold. The trees towered around her, their branches bare and skeletal. The ground was frozen beneath her feet. The air smelled of pine and snow and something else—something sharp and metallic.

Blood.

And there, in the distance, a figure.

Soren.

He was walking through the forest, his golden eyes scanning the darkness, his hand on his sword. He looked exhausted, his face pale, his jaw tight, dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were torn and dirty. His hair was disheveled. He looked like a man who had been running for days without rest.

But he was alive. He was fighting.

Soren, she thought. Soren, can you hear me?

He paused. His head tilted. His hand tightened on his sword.

"Who’s there?"

It’s me. It’s Nyra.

He spun, his eyes searching the shadows. "Nyra?"

I’m here. I’m right here.

But he couldn’t see her. She was still just a ghost a whisper on the wind, a flicker in the darkness. He couldn’t see her. But he could feel her. She could see it in his eyes, the confusion, the hope, the desperate need to believe.

"Nyra, where are you?"

I’m in the Moon Court. I’m trapped. But I’m trying to reach you. I’m trying to come back.

"How? How do I find you?"

You can’t. Not yet. But I can help you. She paused, gathering her strength. Freya. I know something happened to Freya.

Soren’s breath caught. "How do you know about Freya?"

I can feel it through the bond. The fear. The desperation. Tell me what happened.

"She was taken. Kidnapped. From her academy. We don’t know who took her or where she is. We’ve been searching for days."

Nyra’s heart clenched. Freya, the bright, curious girl she had met at the academy. The one who had accepted her without question, who had hugged her like a sister, who had called her "the silver-haired one" with such warmth and joy.

The Shadowwood, Nyra said. She’s in the Shadowwood.

"How do you know?"

I can see it. The trees they’re twisted and dark. The air is cold and thick. There’s a hidden chamber, deep in the forest. That’s where they’re holding her.

"The Shadowwood." Soren’s voice was hard. "That’s a death trap. No one who enters comes out alive."

I know. But that’s where she is. And if you don’t hurry—

The connection flickered. Nyra felt her strength draining, the thread beginning to fray. She was running out of time.

Soren, I have to go. I’m losing the connection.

"Wait—"

I love you. Save Freya. And then—then come back to me.

The thread snapped.

Soren woke with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. He was in his tent the search party had made camp for the night. The fire outside crackled softly. The wind whispered through the trees.

But the dream was still vivid in his mind. Nyra’s voice. Nyra’s words. The Shadowwood. Freya.

He scrambled out of his tent, his mind racing. Corvin was already awake, sitting by the fire, his expression troubled. He looked up when Soren approached.

"What’s wrong?" Corvin asked.

"I know where Freya is."

Corvin’s eyes widened. "How?"

"I saw Nyra. In a dream. She told me, the Shadowwood. Varek is holding her in the Shadowwood."

Corvin stared at him for a long moment. "Nyra? Are you sure?"

"I’m sure. I felt her. I heard her voice. She said Freya is in the Shadowwood, in a hidden chamber deep in the forest."

Corvin was silent, processing. Then he nodded slowly. "Then we leave at dawn."

Queen Seraphina sat alone in her chambers, staring at the wall.

The candles had burned low. The fire had died. The room was cold and dark, but she didn’t notice. She was lost in her thoughts in her guilt, her grief, her fear.

It’s my fault, she thought. I should have protected her. I should have kept her closer. I should have—

She stopped. The tears were coming again. They never stopped. She had been crying for hours ever since the news came, ever since her world shattered for the second time.

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

She pressed her hands to her face and sobbed.

Who did I offend? What did I do to deserve this?

Her thoughts drifted back, back to the beginning, when her children were small. Soren, so serious and solemn, even as a boy. Freya, so bright and curious, always asking questions, always wanting to explore. They had been her world. Her everything.

She remembered the day Freya was born—the tiny, squalling bundle placed in her arms. She remembered the way Soren had looked at his sister, his dark eyes wide with wonder, his small hand reaching out to touch her cheek.

I’ll protect her, he had said. I’ll always protect her.

And now Freya was gone. Taken. And Soren was out there, searching, risking his life to bring her back.

I can’t lose them both. I can’t.

She stood up, her legs unsteady. She walked to the window and stared out at the dark sky. The moon was still absent. The stars were dim. The realm was suffering, and her family was being torn apart.

I won’t let this happen, she thought. I won’t let them destroy my family.

She turned from the window and walked to her desk. She pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill. If Soren was walking into danger, she would do everything in her power to protect him.

She began to write a letter to the pack leaders, requesting reinforcements. A letter to the temple priests, asking for prayers. A letter to the seer, begging for guidance.

She would not sit idle while her children suffered.

The search party broke camp at dawn.

They moved through the forest with purpose, their footsteps silent on the frozen ground. Soren led the way, his golden eyes scanning the treeline, his hand never far from his sword. Corvin walked beside him, his expression grim. Ragnar and Roderic flanked them, their weapons drawn.

They reached the edge of the Shadowwood by midday.

The forest was dark, darker than any forest Soren had ever seen. The trees were twisted and black, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. The air was cold and thick, carrying the scent of decay. The ground was soft and spongy, muffling their footsteps.

"This place is cursed," Ragnar muttered.

"Probably," Soren agreed. "But Freya is in there. So we’re going in."

They moved into the Shadowwood.

The deeper they went, the darker it became. The trees pressed close, their branches tangling overhead, blocking out what little light remained. The air grew colder, heavier, thick with the smell of old magic and older secrets.

And then they heard it—a scream.

Freya’s scream.

Soren’s blood ran cold. He broke into a run, his sword drawn, his golden eyes blazing. Corvin and the others followed, their footsteps pounding on the frozen ground.

They reached a clearing and there, in the center, was a stone structure. A hidden chamber, half-buried in the earth, its entrance guarded by two soldiers.

Soren didn’t hesitate.

He cut down the first soldier before the man could draw his weapon. Ragnar took the second, his axe splitting the soldier’s skull. They pushed through the entrance and into the darkness beyond.

The corridors were narrow and winding, lit by flickering torches. Soren followed the sound of Freya’s screams, his heart pounding, his hands shaking.

And then he found her.

She was in a cell a small, windowless room with iron bars. Her wrists were bound. Her face was bruised. Her eyes were red from crying.

But she was alive.

"Soren!" She ran to the bars, her hands reaching through. "Soren, you came!"

"I’m here." He grabbed her hands, squeezing tight. "I’m here. You’re safe now."

He turned to the cell door, examining the lock. It was old, rusted, but strong. He needed a key or a way to break it.

"Stand back," he said.

Freya stepped back. Soren raised his sword and brought it down on the lock with all his strength. Once. Twice. Three times. The metal groaned, then shattered.

He pulled the door open and swept his sister into his arms.

"You’re safe," he whispered. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Freya sobbed into his chest. "I knew you’d come. I knew it."

"Always." He held her tight. "Always."

Corvin appeared in the corridor, his expression urgent. "Soren, we need to move. There are more soldiers coming. We can’t stay here."

Soren nodded. He lifted Freya into his arms and carried her out of the cell. The search party formed a protective circle around them as they made their way through the dark corridors.

They emerged from the Shadowwood just as the sun began to set. The sky was painted in shades of amber and rose, the first color they had seen in days.

Freya looked up at her brother. "You came for me."

"Always," Soren said. "Always."