Chapter 8 – Shadows of Betrayal

Pain.

It was the first thing Elara felt as she drifted back to consciousness. A dull, throbbing ache spread through her body, but she forced herself to stay still, her breathing slow and even.

The scent of smoke and blood lingered in the air.

Memories of the palace attack crashed down on her like a tidal wave. The fire. The screams. The blade pressed to her throat.

And then—him.

The Wraith King.

Her eyes snapped open.

She was no longer in the palace.

She lay on a cold, stone surface, the air damp and thick with the scent of earth. Underground.

A flickering torch cast shadows on the rough walls, illuminating a small, windowless chamber. Heavy iron chains hung from the ceiling, and a single door stood at the far end, bolted shut.

A prison.

Her pulse quickened. She tried to move, but a sharp pain flared along her side. Looking down, she saw a bloodstained bandage wrapped tightly around her ribs.

Someone had treated her wound.

Before she could make sense of it, the door creaked open.

Boots echoed against the stone floor.

And then he was there.

The Wraith King.

He stepped inside, his towering form framed by the dim torchlight. His dark cloak billowed slightly with each step, and the silver-lined armor beneath it gleamed like liquid moonlight.

His eyes—piercing, unreadable, dangerous—locked onto her.

Elara’s fingers twitched toward the dagger she always kept at her waist—only to find it missing.

Of course.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “What do you want from me?”

The Wraith King remained silent, watching her with the patience of a predator waiting for its prey to make the first mistake.

Then, in a voice as cold as the steel at his hip, he said—

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Elara’s breath caught.

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I remember you trying to kill me,” she bit out.

A shadow of amusement flickered across his face. “If I wanted you dead, princess, you wouldn’t be here.”

She bristled at his tone—as if her life and death were his decision to make.

Elara pushed herself up, ignoring the pain. “If you’re waiting for me to thank you for sparing my life, don’t hold your breath.”

The Wraith King stepped closer, his presence suffocating.

“I didn’t spare your life out of mercy,” he murmured. “I spared it because you are mine.”

Silence stretched between them.

Her heart pounded. Mine?

His gaze burned into hers, something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

Then he reached into his cloak and pulled out something small—something that glowed faintly in the dim light.

A shard of black crystal.

Elara’s breath hitched. She had seen that crystal before.

Not in the palace. Not in this lifetime.

No.

In a memory.

In a life long forgotten.

Her fingers curled into fists. No. This was impossible.

But deep down, she already knew the truth.

And the Wraith King knew it, too.

He leaned in, his voice a whisper of fate and finality.

“You and I were bound long before this war began.”

Elara’s pulse thundered in her ears.

“You and I were bound long before this war began.”

The Wraith King’s words clawed at something deep within her, something buried beneath layers of forgotten time.

The black crystal in his hand pulsed with a faint glow, as if whispering secrets only they could hear.

“I don’t believe you.” Her voice was steady, but her hands weren’t. She clenched them into fists, willing away the trembling.

The Wraith King smirked. “You will.”

With agonizing slowness, he closed the distance between them. The air grew heavy, charged with something more than just tension—something ancient, something dangerous.

Elara refused to retreat. She held her ground, even as his shadow loomed over her, even as the scent of steel and cold night air clung to him.

He lifted the crystal between them.

The moment it touched her skin—

A flash of white. A scream. A battlefield drowned in fire and blood.

And then—

Him.

Not as he was now, but younger, fiercer, standing atop a mountain of corpses with that same cold fire in his eyes.

Elara gasped, stumbling back, but the Wraith King caught her wrist before she could fall.

The vision ripped through her mind like a blade, flashes of a past she did not remember searing into her consciousness.

She saw herself—not as a princess of this kingdom, but as something else entirely.

Not wearing silk and gold—but armor, drenched in war.

Not standing beside her father—but beside him.

The Wraith King.

Fighting for him. Bleeding for him. Loving him.

“No!” The word tore from her lips as she wrenched free of his grasp.

The visions vanished. The room snapped back into focus—the cold walls, the iron door, the Wraith King watching her with knowing eyes.

She pressed a shaking hand to her chest. “What… what was that?”

“The truth.” His voice was low, measured, as if he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

Elara shook her head, denying it.

“I don’t know you,” she whispered.

But he only smirked. “Your soul does.”

She hated the way her body reacted to his words—how her heart pounded in her chest, how her skin burned where he had touched her.

“How?” she demanded, her voice laced with desperation. “How is this possible?”

He tucked the crystal back into the folds of his cloak. “There are things beyond your understanding, Princess. Curses. Magic. Fate.”

The way he said fate sent a chill down her spine.

“Then break it.” She took a step closer, tilting her chin up in defiance. “Whatever binds us, break it.”

The Wraith King’s expression darkened. “It cannot be broken.”

She stiffened. “Everything can be broken.”

His gaze dipped to her lips, just for a fraction of a second—but she saw it.

And she hated the way her body responded.

The way her stomach tightened. The way her breath came a little too fast.

The way she knew—if he kissed her, she would not stop him.

The realization made her furious.

“Whatever game you’re playing,” she hissed, stepping back, “it won’t work.”

The Wraith King studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “You always were stubborn.”

Something flickered in his eyes—a ghost of something softer, something almost… regretful.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door.

Elara should have felt relieved that he was leaving.

But instead, her chest tightened with something she refused to name.

At the doorway, the Wraith King paused. He didn’t turn back, but his words were lethal and final.

“Whether you accept it or not, Elara—your fate is bound to mine. And soon, you will have no choice but to remember.”

Then, he was gone, leaving her alone with the terrifying weight of his words.

And for the first time in her life, Elara was afraid.

Not of him.

Not of death.

But of the truth buried inside her own soul.

Her mind spun with possibilities, but her body still hummed with a different kind of battle—the memory of his touch, the brief flicker of emotion in his gaze, the way her pulse betrayed her when he was near.

She hated it.

Elara took a slow breath, forcing herself to regain control.

She needed answers.

And she would not get them by standing here, drowning in her own confusion.

She turned toward the large arched window overlooking the city below. From here, she could see the shadowed streets of the capital, the rooftops lined with torches, the faint glow of the palace in the distance.

That was where she needed to be.

If the royal archives held any truth about the Wraith King, about the magic that bound them, she would find it there.

But escaping would not be easy.

The Wraith King had brought her to his stronghold, a fortress nestled between the mountains—a place hidden from maps, hidden from even the most powerful mages.

There were wards etched into the stone, sigils burning faintly in the darkness, meant to prevent anyone from leaving without his will.

Elara’s lips pressed into a thin line.

His will meant nothing to her.

She stepped toward the window, analyzing her surroundings. She could hear the faint murmur of voices outside her door—guards. But that wasn’t what made her pause.

Something shifted in the air behind her.

A presence.

Elara turned sharply—

And nearly collapsed when a sharp, searing pain tore through her chest.

It was as if something invisible had wrapped around her lungs, tightening, pulling—

Her knees hit the floor, her fingers grasping at her throat as her vision blurred.

A curse.

She recognized it instantly, a spell designed to keep her from leaving, from defying the one who had placed it on her.

“The magic binding us cannot be broken.”

The Wraith King’s words came rushing back like a cruel reminder.

This wasn’t just a cage of stone.

It was a cage within her own body.

She gasped, trying to force air back into her lungs, but the pain only worsened—until a shadow loomed over her.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice was smooth, dark—amused.

Elara’s body went rigid as the Wraith King knelt before her, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

“You think I wouldn’t notice if you tried to run?” He reached out, tilting her chin up with infuriating ease. “You truly are reckless.”

Elara slapped his hand away, her breathing ragged. “And you’re a bastard.”

His smirk widened. “I never claimed otherwise.”

The pain in her chest faded, the magic loosening its grip just as quickly as it had taken hold.

The realization made her stomach churn.

“He controls it.”

He controlled her.

Elara shoved herself to her feet, rage simmering beneath her skin. “You put a spell on me.”

“I did.” He stood as well, watching her with unreadable eyes. “You are mine to keep, Elara. You should know that by now.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine—not from fear, but from something else. Something much, much worse.

She should hate him.

She did hate him.

So why did her body react as if it remembered something she did not?

Why did his presence make her pulse thunder, make her breath catch, make her want to tear him apart and pull him closer in the same heartbeat?

The Wraith King tilted his head, observing her carefully, as if he could hear every thought racing through her mind.

“Sleep, Princess.” His voice was softer now, but no less dangerous. “You’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”

Elara clenched her fists, every nerve in her body rebelling at the thought of obeying him.

But what choice did she have?

For now, she would play along.

For now, she would pretend.

But soon…

She would break his curse.

And when she did, she would burn his kingdom to the ground.

Elara’s breathing was unsteady as the Wraith King’s presence faded from the room, but his words echoed in her mind.

“Your fate is bound to mine. And soon, you will have no choice but to remember.”

Her fingers clenched at her sides. No. This couldn’t be real.

And yet—

The visions had felt too vivid, too raw to be an illusion. She had felt the steel in her hands, the weight of blood on her skin. She had seen his face, younger but still just as ruthless, standing beside her as if they had once fought for the same cause.

Elara refused to believe it.

If she had known him before—if her soul had truly belonged to him in another life—why had she forgotten? Who had taken those memories from her? And why?

Her mind spun with possibilities, but her body still hummed with a different kind of battle—the memory of his touch, the brief flicker of emotion in his gaze, the way her pulse betrayed her when he was near.

She hated it.

Elara took a slow breath, forcing herself to regain control.

She needed answers.

And she would not get them by standing here, drowning in her own confusion.

She turned toward the large arched window overlooking the city below. From here, she could see the shadowed streets of the capital, the rooftops lined with torches, the faint glow of the palace in the distance.

That was where she needed to be.

If the royal archives held any truth about the Wraith King, about the magic that bound them, she would find it there.

But escaping would not be easy.

The Wraith King had brought her to his stronghold, a fortress nestled between the mountains—a place hidden from maps, hidden from even the most powerful mages.

There were wards etched into the stone, sigils burning faintly in the darkness, meant to prevent anyone from leaving without his will.

Elara’s lips pressed into a thin line.

His will meant nothing to her.

She stepped toward the window, analyzing her surroundings. She could hear the faint murmur of voices outside her door—guards. But that wasn’t what made her pause.

Something shifted in the air behind her.

A presence.

Elara turned sharply—

And nearly collapsed when a sharp, searing pain tore through her chest.

It was as if something invisible had wrapped around her lungs, tightening, pulling—

Her knees hit the floor, her fingers grasping at her throat as her vision blurred.

A curse.

She recognized it instantly, a spell designed to keep her from leaving, from defying the one who had placed it on her.

“The magic binding us cannot be broken.”

The Wraith King’s words came rushing back like a cruel reminder.

This wasn’t just a cage of stone.

It was a cage within her own body.

She gasped, trying to force air back into her lungs, but the pain only worsened—until a shadow loomed over her.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice was smooth, dark—amused.

Elara’s body went rigid as the Wraith King knelt before her, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

“You think I wouldn’t notice if you tried to run?” He reached out, tilting her chin up with infuriating ease. “You truly are reckless.”

Elara slapped his hand away, her breathing ragged. “And you’re a bastard.”

His smirk widened. “I never claimed otherwise.”

The pain in her chest faded, the magic loosening its grip just as quickly as it had taken hold.

The realization made her stomach churn.

“He controls it.”

He controlled her.

Elara shoved herself to her feet, rage simmering beneath her skin. “You put a spell on me.”

“I did.” He stood as well, watching her with unreadable eyes. “You are mine to keep, Elara. You should know that by now.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine—not from fear, but from something else. Something much, much worse.

She should hate him.

She did hate him.

So why did her body react as if it remembered something she did not?

Why did his presence make her pulse thunder, make her breath catch, make her want to tear him apart and pull him closer in the same heartbeat?

The Wraith King tilted his head, observing her carefully, as if he could hear every thought racing through her mind.

“Sleep, Princess.” His voice was softer now, but no less dangerous. “You’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”

Elara clenched her fists, every nerve in her body rebelling at the thought of obeying him.

But what choice did she have?

For now, she would play along.

For now, she would pretend.

But soon…

She would break his curse.

And when she did, she would burn his kingdom to the ground.