Chapter 13 – The Cost of Deception

Elara’s promise lingered in the air long after Vesper left the chamber. The moment the heavy wooden door shut behind him, she exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was erratic, her pulse racing not from fear—but from the weight of the lie she had just spun.

She had promised to hand him over.

But she would never allow it.

The flickering candle cast jagged shadows on the stone walls, mirroring the fractured plan forming in her mind. There was another way. There had to be another way.

Elara pushed to her feet, pacing the length of the chamber, her thoughts a tangled mess of strategies, risks, and consequences. If she was going to betray both Vesper and the Wraith King in one calculated move, she would need leverage.

And she knew exactly where to find it.

The Wraith King’s Chamber

The midnight corridors of the castle were eerily silent, the air thick with unseen eyes. The Wraith King’s presence lingered like a sickness, the unnatural chill of his magic curling around the ancient stone.

Elara moved quickly, her steps soundless against the cold floor as she navigated the hidden passages. She had spent years learning the secrets of this castle—secrets even her father, the King, had long forgotten.

She reached the heavy iron doors of the Wraith King’s private chamber, pressing her palm against the cold metal. A pulse of magic resisted her at first, but she whispered the incantation her mother had once taught her—an old spell of passage meant only for the royal bloodline.

The door groaned open.

Inside, darkness slithered like a living thing. Shadows stretched unnaturally, recoiling from the faint glow of the enchanted lantern she carried. Her breath misted in the air as she stepped forward, her gaze sweeping the room.

And then she saw it.

The Reliquary.

A massive obsidian chest, carved with runes so ancient they seemed to pulse with forgotten power. This was where the Wraith King kept his most dangerous artifacts—his weapons, his secrets.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for it.

If there was any chance of breaking the prophecy, of severing the bond that demanded either Vesper’s or her own life—this was where the answer would be.

But before her hand could touch the surface, a voice like ice cut through the silence.

“Looking for something, Princess?”

Elara spun, her heart slamming against her ribs.

The Wraith King stood in the doorway, his skeletal frame draped in flowing black robes, his hollowed-out eyes burning with amusement.

Trapped.

But Elara had never been one to kneel.

Forcing steel into her spine, she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with unshaken defiance. “You and I need to talk.”

His thin lips curled into something that was almost a smile. “Oh, I do love a woman who walks willingly into danger.”

Elara exhaled slowly, her pulse steadying.

If she was going to play this game, she would have to play it well.

Because the moment she stepped into this room, there was no turning back.

And the cost of failure?

Everything.

Elara forced herself to remain still under the Wraith King’s gaze, though every instinct screamed at her to flee. The air in the chamber was suffocating, thick with old magic and the unmistakable scent of decay.

The Wraith King stepped forward, his dark robes whispering against the stone floor. His skeletal fingers curled as if weaving invisible threads of power. Testing her.

“Speak, Princess,” he murmured, his voice like the crackling embers of a dying fire. “You sought me out in my own domain. That either makes you reckless… or desperate.”

Elara met his gaze without faltering. “Both.”

A flicker of amusement danced in his hollow eyes. “And what could possibly drive the King’s daughter to risk her life for a mere conversation?”

She inhaled deeply. Now was the moment. The precipice of deception.

“I want to make a deal.”

Silence stretched between them, tense and sharp as a blade.

Then, a slow, deliberate chuckle. “A deal?” The Wraith King circled her, his shadowed presence pressing against her skin. “You overestimate your position, child. I hold all the power here.”

Elara turned to face him fully. “You hold power. But you don’t have everything you want.”

His amusement faltered. Just slightly.

“Vesper Moretti is a threat to you,” she continued, voice steady. “He isn’t just the heir to the Mafia Underworld—he’s someone the people fear and respect. If he rises to power, your influence weakens. But what if I could ensure he never does?”

The Wraith King tilted his head, studying her. “And how would you do that?”

Elara forced herself to smirk, though her stomach was coiled tight. “Because Vesper trusts me.”

A lie.

A dangerous one.

But she had no other choice.

The Wraith King’s expression didn’t change, but the air in the room shifted. The shadows curled tighter, pressing against the walls.

“And what do you ask in return?” he asked, his voice deceptively smooth.

Elara’s throat was dry, but she didn’t let her voice waver. “Freedom.”

The word echoed through the chamber.

“My father,” she continued, “plans to marry me off as a pawn. I want out. Give me the means to break the magic that binds me to the kingdom, and I’ll make sure Vesper is no longer your problem.”

The Wraith King was silent.

Then, with slow deliberation, he extended a hand. “A fascinating proposition.” His fingers curled slightly. “But deals with me come with a price, Princess.”

Elara swallowed hard. “Name it.”

His lips twisted into a smile that sent ice down her spine. “A life for a life. You want to break the magic that binds you? You must be willing to sacrifice someone in return.”

Her blood turned to ice.

He was testing her. Weighing her resolve.

And she couldn’t afford to show hesitation.

So, with a coldness that surprised even herself, Elara lifted her chin. “Whose life?”

The Wraith King let the silence stretch, savoring the moment. Then he leaned in, his breath like a winter’s whisper against her ear.

“Vesper Moretti’s.”

Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs.

“You hesitate,” the Wraith King observed, his voice almost teasing. “Do you care for him after all?”

Elara forced her expression into one of thoughtful calculation. “I care about my freedom more.”

Another lie.

One she prayed he would believe.

The Wraith King chuckled, stepping back. “Then we have an accord.”

With a flick of his wrist, the magic in the chamber pulsed, and a spectral dagger appeared in his palm—its blade shimmering with the glow of cursed enchantments.

“You must do it yourself,” he said, pressing the dagger into her hands. “Kill him, and I will grant you the power to break your bonds.”

Elara curled her fingers around the weapon, its magic burning against her skin.

She had played the game well so far. But now, the stakes were impossibly high.

Because there was no reality where she could kill Vesper.

And yet, if she refused… the Wraith King would destroy them both.

She had walked into this room with a plan. Now, she had no choice but to rewrite it.

And time was running out.

Elara’s fingers tightened around the spectral dagger, its eerie glow pulsating like a heartbeat in her palm. The Wraith King’s demand echoed in her mind—Kill Vesper Moretti, and I will grant you freedom.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She had anticipated a steep price, but this? This was a game of death, and she was the unwilling player caught between two monsters.

She forced herself to meet the Wraith King’s hollow gaze, masking her turmoil beneath a veil of calculation. “A life for a life,” she murmured, weighing the words. “How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

The Wraith King smirked. “Doubt me already, Princess? I’m offended.” Shadows curled around him, caressing the air like sentient beings. “But I admire your cunning. Very well. If you bring me proof—Vesper’s blood spilled by your hand—I will sever your magical bindings myself.”

Elara schooled her expression into something neutral, even as nausea roiled in her stomach. “And if I fail?”

A slow, deliberate chuckle. “Then you’ll belong to me.”

A cold chill slithered down her spine. That wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

The weight of the dagger grew heavier in her grip. This was it—the moment she had to make a decision. Betray Vesper, or outmaneuver the Wraith King before he saw through her lie.

She forced a smirk, tilting her chin. “Then I suppose I should get to work.”

The Wraith King stepped back, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. “Good girl. I look forward to your return.”

With that, the shadows surged around her, and before she could react, the chamber vanished.

—

Elara stumbled forward as the darkness lifted, finding herself standing at the edge of the Blackwood Forest. Her breath came fast, her heartbeat unsteady.

The dagger still pulsed in her grip, the Wraith King’s magic lingering against her skin.

She exhaled shakily. I need to think. Need to find another way.

She had convinced the Wraith King she would kill Vesper. But now, she had to do the impossible—keep both herself and Vesper alive without letting the Wraith King discover her deception.

Her mind spun. She needed to warn Vesper, but how? How could she tell him she had just struck a deal to end his life without making him see her as a threat?

Before she could dwell on it further, a rustling in the distance made her stiffen.

She wasn’t alone.

Elara whirled, magic sparking at her fingertips—only to freeze when a familiar figure stepped out from the shadows.

Vesper.

His golden eyes flickered in the moonlight, his sharp features unreadable.

“How long were you going to keep this from me, Princess?” His voice was silk wrapped in steel.

Her stomach plummeted.

He knows.