Elira remained locked in her room in the Wolf Kingdom, the bitterness in her heart
only growing with each passing day. She couldn't escape the constant anger she felt
toward Kaelion, who had brought her back against her will, and though she knew
her feelings for Zareth were complicated, her pride wouldn't allow her to admit it.
She refused to interact with anyone, burying herself in the cold silence of her room.
Kaelion, however, couldn't bear her indifference any longer. His patience was
running thin, his frustration growing with each cold glance Elira gave him. He was
conflicted—he wasn't just fighting for her affection, but for the stability of his
kingdom. His closest ally, Ryland, continued to manipulate Kaelion, feeding him
false information about the Dragon King's supposed plans to attack the Wolf
Kingdom, which made Kaelion's protective instincts flare.
The air was thick with tension when Kaelion finally stormed into Elira's room one
evening. The heavy wooden door closed with a resounding thud behind her, and
Elira found herself in the isolated room of the Wolf Prince's quarters. Her chest
tightened, her heart pounding with unease. Kaelion stood before her, the room
thick with the tension that had been building for days. His once kind eyes were now
filled with a dark, possessive gleam.
"Stay still," he commanded in a low voice, his hand reaching out to grasp her wrist.
His fingers were tight, almost painful, as he pulled her toward him. "You will come
with me. You belong to me."
Elira recoiled, fear flooding her veins. She had hoped for a moment of peace, but
she knew, deep down, that Kaelion was no longer the man she once trusted. His
kindness had been a mask, and now it was slipping, revealing something darker,
something she wasn't sure she could escape from.
"Let go of me!" she spat, trying to wrench her arm free. "You don't have rights over
me."
Kaelion's lips curled into a twisted smile, his grip tightening. "I was the one who
kept you here. I gave you safety. I gave you happiness. I deserve more than your
rejection."
His words were like poison in her ears, and his body pressed closer, trapping her
against the wall. His breath was hot against her skin, his face too close, his hands
on her, touching her where he had no right.
Elira's pulse quickened, panic rising in her chest. She struggled against him, but his
strength was overwhelming. Desperation filled her, and she pushed against his
chest with all the force she could muster. "Let me go!" she cried, her voice shaky
but full of defiance.
But it was too late. She could feel his breath on her neck, his lips inches from her
skin, and that was when something inside her snapped.
Without thinking, her hand surged upward, a sudden, searing heat flowing through
her veins. Before she even realized what had happened, a burst of flame erupted
from her palm, flickering in the air. The heat was intense, the fire pulsing like a
heartbeat, yet as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished—leaving nothing but a faint
warmth in its wake.
Elira stood there, frozen, staring at her hand in shock. The fire had come from her.
She had never felt anything like it before. She hadn't known she had such power.
But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and all that remained was a
lingering sense of confusion.
Kaelion, too, seemed to be taken aback. His eyes widened, and for the briefest
moment, Elira saw a flicker of something—guilt? Regret?—pass through his gaze.
But then it was gone, and he stepped back, his expression hardening once more.
Without a word, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving her standing there,
shaken and bewildered. His footsteps echoed In the silence, the weight of his
rejection and the violence of his actions hanging heavily in the air.
Elira stood alone in the room, her mind spinning with everything that had just
happened. The scene with Kaelion, the flame that had surged through her hand,
and the strange bond she felt with Zareth—it was all too much to process.
She couldn't help but compare the two kings in her mind. Kaelion, the man who
had once seemed so kind, had tried to force himself on her, his actions brutal and
unforgiving. His touch had been oppressive, demanding her submission, his belief
that she owed him something for the life he had given her.
In contrast, Zareth had always respected her boundaries. He had backed away when
he saw the reluctance in her eyes, when he sensed that she wasn't ready. He had
never pushed her. He had never made her feel small, never made her feel as though
she were something to be claimed. His love had always been gentle, patient, and
understanding.
The comparison cut deep. She had never realized until now how different they
were—how much Zareth's respect for her autonomy meant to her.
As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, a small, silent tear slid down her cheek. But
she quickly wiped it away. She couldn't afford to be weak now.
She had to figure out what these powers meant. Why did she have them? And what
did it mean for her future with Zareth?