GavrielWatching from the shadows, I observe Soren and Rhiannon at the cliff’s edge. They speak with a familiarity that grates on me, an intimacy that should not exist between captor and captive.More than Ivar or Soren, it’s me who harbours the deepest loathing for the princess. It’s not just her; it’s everything she represents. Her lineage, her blood—tainted with the atrocities committed by her fathers and their armies. The very armies that left my world in ruins, my family nothing but memories to be mourned.My mothers and sisters brutalized in ways I don't even want to think about.I’ve always been the silent one, my brothers often joke about my lack of words, but my silence is not a lack of things to say; it’s a choice. A choice borne from the understanding that some thoughts are too dark, too filled with rage to be given voice. Here she stands, the daughter of those responsible, living, breathing, and undoubtedly lamenting her captivity as if it were the greatest injustice.My
SorenThe notification comes as a ripple through the dark web, a shadowy realm where whispers and threats are currency. It’s from the Alpha kings, their response to our message. Ivar and I gather around the secured terminal, the air between us charged with anticipation and a hint of something darker.The video flickers to life, the image sharp despite the layers of encryption. There they stand, the Alpha kings, united in their fury. Their faces are etched with rage, the kind that speaks of unleashed storms and ravaged lands.“We’ve received your message,” one of them begins, his voice like thunder, “and we want you to know, you’ve made a grave mistake.”Another steps forward, his eyes a blaze of anger. “Whoever you are, know this: there’s no hole deep enough to hide from us. We will find you, and when we do, the mercy you beg for will be a distant dream.”Their threats weave through the digital space, a promised violence and retribution. But it’s their final statement that chills even
ReynaAs Malachi switches off the video, the silence that follows is deafening. The fury in my mates’ eyes is mirrored by the storm raging in my heart, but beneath the anger, there’s a chasm of guilt that threatens to swallow me whole. They start discussing our next move, their voices filled with rage and desperation, but I’m barely listening. My mind is trapped in a past I thought I had left behind, a past when I was not myself, but Pyrra’s vessel, rampaging through islands in a blaze of purple flames.It’s my fault. All of it.I remember the destruction, the powerlessness as Pyrra took control, leaving devastation in her wake. At the time, I didn’t know the full extent of the horrors she committed with my hands. It was only later, much later, that the memories started to surface, fragmented and jagged, cutting deep. I thought those sins were behind us, that we had moved on and built something beautiful out of the ashes. But now, with Rhiannon’s abduction, it’s clear those sins hav
RhiannonSitting in my new bedroom—or should I say, prison—I can’t help but feel a mix of comfort and anxiety. The room is nice, sure, and the same women who helped clean me up have brought me new clothing. It’s almost like they’re trying to make me forget I’m a captive. Almost. But no amount of soft linen or warm baths can quell the storm of unease raging inside me. Since that moment on the cliff, watching Soren transform and fly away, I’ve been left in a swirling pool of my own thoughts, with too much time to wonder what my family is doing, what my captors are planning.But comfort isn’t what I need right now. Information is, and of that, I have none. My anxiety’s been skyrocketing, every passing day a test to my sanity.The door opens, and Ivar steps in, his presence immediately filling the room. His sharp wit and flirty demeanour have been a constant since my arrival, a thorn in my side that I begrudgingly admit keeps the despair at bay. Ugh, why did he have to look so damn hand
RhiannonPacing the floor of the bedroom I’m confined in has become my new normal. The restlessness within me grows with each passing day, a caged animal itching for release. It’s been weeks since I last shifted, my wolf spirit clawing at the confines of my consciousness, desperate for freedom.One evening, after I’ve eaten the meal brought to me by those silent women, I watch from my window as the three dragons soar off into the fading light. Crimson, Green, and Black; Soren, Ivar, and Gavriel. Their majestic forms cut through the sky with ease, a sight that would have been awe-inspiring if it weren’t for my circumstances. Boredom and a surge of boldness grip me as I eye the door, a plan forming in my mind. To my surprise, the door is unlocked, no guard in sight. My heart races, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I strain my ears for any sign of life. Hearing nothing, I decide to take my chances.Stepping out into the hallway, every sense is heightened. I’m acutely aware of the
SorenAfter returning Rhiannon to her quarters, the complexity of my emotions leaves me restless, a turmoil that I can neither name nor want to acknowledge. She’s making me feel things, things I’d rather not examine too closely. The game between us, the banter and the challenge, it’s more than just a distraction—it’s becoming something that threatens the walls I’ve carefully built around myself.The primal chase through the forest, the heat of the moment when I pinned her beneath me—these are distractions I can’t afford. Yet, try as I might, pushing her from my thoughts is proving more difficult than anticipated. There’s a fire in her, a resilience that challenges me, makes me feel things I’ve sworn off long ago.Reaching my room, I try to shake off the remnants of the night, the electricity that seemed to crackle in the air between us. I decide that a shower is what I need—a chance to cleanse my thoughts and refocus on the tasks at hand. The hot water is a welcome relief against m
RhiannonWaking up feels like emerging from a deep ocean, the pressure in my head so intense it’s a wonder I can think at all. My head throbs with a pain that makes me wince, and for a moment, I can’t remember why. I try to sit up, but the room spins, a carousel I never bought a ticket for. Blinking, trying to force my vision to clear, I notice a figure in the room with me, still and silent. My vision blurs at the edges, a disorienting fog that takes a few heartbeats to clear.When it does, the figure beside me comes into sharp focus. Gavriel. As the world finally snaps back into focus, and memories flood back—his injury, the healing, my collapse. My head spins, not just from the pain but from the whirlwind of emotions that accompany the recollection.“How long have I been out?” My voice sounds weak, even to my own ears.“A few hours,” Gavriel answers, his voice a low rumble, filled with an undercurrent of something I can’t quite decipher.I pause, considering his presence here, by
SorenAs we sit in the dimly lit room, the tension among us is palpable. Gavriel, still recovering but ever stoic, and Ivar, who’s been oddly contemplative of late, both watch as I cue up the video sent by Rhiannon’s parents. The screen flickers to life, revealing their faces—Malachi, Cassian, and Rune. Their expressions are ones of worry, a mirror of the emotions churning within me.“We did not send any hunters after you,” Malachi states firmly, his gaze piercing through the screen as if he could see us on the other side. “We don’t even know where you are.”“We wouldn’t risk anything where Rhiannon is involved. All we ask is for our daughter to be returned safe,” Cassian says. “Then we can talk about peace, about helping you regrow your kingdoms.”Rune, the soft-spoken one, nods in agreement. “We want a resolution, not continued conflict.”As the video ends, the room falls into a heavy silence. I glance at Gavriel and Ivar, gauging their reactions. Scepticism is etched deep in their