Through the Ashes

Chapter Three

"It's been four days, Ezril."

The shaky male voice carried down the thick stone hallway, accompanied by a shuffle of rushed footsteps. Somewhere in the distance, Faelyn could hear a methodic dripping, the air smelling heavily of damp earth and moss.

We're underground, her wolf growls, pacing in the recesses of her mind, clearly agitated. Faelyn groans quietly in response, her head pounding in rhythm with the pacing. Her icy eyes slowly slide open, the world swimming into focus.

Definitely underground. With all the strength she could muster, she manages to pull her heavy body into an upright position, leaning back against the cool stone wall. Her eyes take a quick survey of her surroundings as she listens to the footsteps grow closer; the room consists of three stone walls, and one wall made up of rows of iron bars. The stench of wolfsbane burns her nose, the liquid clearly coating the bars across from her.

Shadows flicker at the edge of her vision, pulling her attention to the two figures rushing into view. Despite her stiff joints and the rolling nausea wracking her body, the swift punch in the gut when her gaze fell on Ezril still took her aback. She snarls, her muscles coiling as she attempts to gain her footing—but fails miserably, sliding back down against the stone wall that she had been using as leverage.

"You're finally awake." Ezril grins as he watches her struggle, nodding to the man at his side. The man gives Ezril an uneasy glance, but moves forward, a ring of keys jangling loudly in his trembling hands. He was small compared to Ezril, shorter by at least a foot, and looked rather meek overall. His eyes never met Faelyn's, actively avoiding her glare. An Omega, her wolf huffs.

He proceeds to unlock the barred door, swinging it open on its rusting hinges. Faelyn's eyes burn into him with a seething hatred for removing the one thing separating her from her worst nightmare, but he just keeps his head down and quickly shuffles out of his Alpha's way.

"You can leave us, Desmond." Ezril calls over his shoulder as he advances into the cell holding Faelyn, his gloved hands pulling the door shut behind him. There is a loud scraping as the lock is turned back into place, and then Desmond hurries away, his footsteps receding even quicker than they had come.

He stands there for a moment, his glowing gaze roaming over Faelyn as she glowers at him. She is pressed back against the wall, her body tense as she prepares to strike if he moves any closer. Her wrists and ankles are free from the shackles that had previously bound them, a mistake she would make Ezril pay for.

"I know what you're thinking, Faelyn." he mutters, his lips pulling into that annoying, coy smile that Faelyn had grown to hate so much. "But you're far too weak to get any good swings in before I put you down. So, don't try anything." He brushes his coat to the side, revealing a dagger resting in a hilt on his hip. She did not even have to ask to know it had been coated in wolfsbane. So, instead of ripping his head from his shoulders—as her wolf was begging her to do—she remained where she was, snarling in the corner like a vicious animal.

"What do you want, Ezril?" Her voice is hoarse from disuse, or quite possibly from how hard she had screamed only days before. Either way, the defeat in her flat tone is obvious. The visions of her mother's corpse drift through her head, an unwelcome sadness settling in her belly once more.

Ezril takes his time before answering. He strides over to the only piece of furniture in the cell, a rickety wooden chair that had been haphazardly thrown into the corner. All too nonchalantly, he rights the chair and settles down into it, never once turning his back on Faelyn.