Chapter 44: Identity Revealed- Betrayal.

Chapter 44: Identity Revealed- Betrayal. Lynnor’s gaze locked onto the beast without hesitation. Her eyes narrowed, calculating the precise moment to strike. She moved with lethal grace, her arm snapping out to unleash her blade. It shot through the air, gleaming as it extended, coiling around the wolf like a serpent. The blade hummed with an almost eerie energy, vibrating in the air, its presence a tangible weight that seemed to cut through the very atmosphere. The wolf snarled, thrashing with wild fury, its body weakening against the tightening coil of the blade. Its fur bristled, hackles raised, but the blade didn’t budge. Lynnor’s control over it was unwavering, and the weapon constricted with relentless precision. The wolf’s struggles were futile, its massive form squirming in an attempt to break free. But the more it fought, the tighter the blade coiled, the vibrations intensifying until the very air seemed to hum in response. Without a second thought, Lynnor raised her other blade. She brought it down in a swift, fluid motion, the strike aiming for the wolf’s head. The blade cleaved through the air with a deadly hiss, the sharp edge meeting resistance as it sliced clean through the beast’s neck. The wolf let out one final, guttural sound—more like a choked gasp than a howl—as its head detached from its body, rolling forward in a grotesque display. But before it even hit the ground, the wolf’s form began to disintegrate. The head crumbled, turning to ash that fluttered into the air, scattering like dark dust. The rest of its body followed, dissolving into nothingness, vanishing into the ether as if it had never existed at all. Lynnor stood over the spot where the beast had fallen, her chest rising and falling with controlled breath. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. It had been too easy. No fight. No struggle. Just... a fleeting moment of resistance before it vanished. She frowned, a cold sense of unease creeping over her. Something wasn’t right, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the wolf wasn’t really dead. She turned to Aramith who now sat up, looking disoriented. He was lucky the wolf left his body. Mozrael’s grip on his arm tightened. "Aramith," she whispered, a plea hidden in her voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. Though the wolf wasn’t within him anymore, he could feel the darkness erratically moving within. It wasn’t satisfied. I won’t lose myself to this... With sheer willpower, he forced the darkness down, suppressing the energy within him. It was still there, lurking, waiting—but for now, he was in control. He exhaled shakily and looked up at Mozrael. Lynnor’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and insistent. "Aramith? Are you alright?" He blinked slowly, as if the question itself was a weight on his mind. His lips parted to speak, but his voice came out hoarse, strained. "I... I’m fine," he muttered, though the words felt hollow even as they left his mouth. The dark tendrils that had bound him to the beast seemed to pulse under his skin, an unsettling reminder of the battle still raging within him. "I’m fine," he repeated, more firmly this time—but even to his own ears, the words didn’t sound convincing. He wanted to believe them. He had to. They barely had any time to react when the first tendril slithered through the air. No rustling leaves. No shift in the wind. Just the whisper of something moving too fast to track. Mozrael felt it before she saw it—a flicker of pressure against her senses, a tightening in her chest. But before she could react, a sharp snap cracked through the air. Aramith’s wrist jerked backward, yanked by an unseen force. His boots skidded against the dirt, balance momentarily stolen, but his eyes—his eyes—narrowed in cold understanding. Then, another lash—this time, Mozrael’s turn. The coil snaked around her arm before she could summon a proper defense, the unforgiving grip, forcing her still. Jade barely had time to gasp before the final strike wrapped around her ankle, dragging her off-balance. Then came the silence. Not an ordinary hush, but the wrong kind—the kind where even the wind held its breath. The presence loomed before them, unseen yet unmistakable. And then, they stepped forward. Not from the trees, not from the path ahead—no, they unraveled from the darkness itself. Deadlock. Their movement was slow, deliberate, unchallenged. Ropes slithered like living things at their sides, coiling and uncoiling with quiet menace. A gloved hand flexed, and the bindings tightened. It wasn’t panic Mozrael felt. Not exactly. It was recognition. And that made it worse. They approached Lynnor, who didn’t move a muscle. She wasn’t frightened by their presence at all. Then one of them stepped forward. The others also shifted, moving seamlessly. And then- A bow. A small respectful dip towards Lynnor, acknowledging someone of equal footing, or higher. "We are here to retrieve the prince and princess. His Majesty, king of the Vermillion Kingdom has sent us here and we mean you no harm." Jade’s body tensed as her eyes widened. Prince? Princess? They lied. Her breath came in ragged disbelief. Her stomach churned, something bitter rising in her throat. Her eyes snapped to Lynnor, accusation searing through them like fire. "You..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but thick with betrayal. Lynnor said nothing, didn’t even spare her a glance. They gave another small bow and turned to leave with Aramith and Mozrael. Sharp steel sang in the air as Lynnor’s blade was pressed against a throat. She stood there, unmoved, her expression unreadable. But her eyes burned with command. "Let them go," she said, her leveled tone leaving no room for argument. For the first time, Deadlock hesitated. The man she held hostage didn’t flinch, but his gaze flickered toward the others, calculating. Another figure stepped forward, taller, exuding a quiet authority—their leader. "You were always a stubborn one, Lynnor," he mused, voice neither amused nor irritated. Just... knowing. Lynnor’s grip on the blade didn’t waver. "Let them go. Come for them in the morning." Silence. They locked eyes, expressions unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the leader gave the smallest nod. The ropes slackened. Aramith staggered, freed from his bindings. His breath was ragged, his head pounding, but before he could process anything, a vial was tossed toward him. One of Deadlock’s members had flicked it in his direction—a small gesture of mercy. "Drink it. Aiden said do so before you lose control again. You can come if you want to. But if you agree with her, stay. We’ll come for you tomorrow." They waited but when Aramith and Mozrael didn’t move, they understood it meant they were staying. He looked at Lynnor with a serious gaze. "I’m sure they would’ve chosen to come home if you didn’t play with their minds." He sniffed the air, then lowered his tone to a whisper. " I can already tell what you’ve mixed in the air here. I advise you to stop clouding their minds and dulling their senses before this backfires on you." Her expression didn’t change, just a small smile. "What I do here has nothing to do with you." "If it harms them, then it concerns me. You never did like letting people make their own choices, did you?" "..." "Very well," He spoke and they turned to leave. Mozrael remained still, watching the empty space where they once stood. Jade didn’t move either. The tension in the air did not break—it only thickened, stretching unbearably. Lynnor exhaled and gave a half-hearted chuckle, shaking her head. "Damn. They always did have a flair for the dramatic, huh? But wasn’t I cool? Heh? Heh?" No one laughed. Aramith and Mozrael shared an unreadable glance. Jade’s hands clenched into fists. She turned without another word and started walking back toward the house. The silence followed them all the way home. Just when they were almost at the house, Jade turned to Lynnor. her clenched fists trembled and tears threatened to fall. "How long?"