Chapter 403: Foolish Mistakes

Rhydian;The dungeon reeks of rust, damp stone... and death.

Queen Cassia hates using this place. She avoids sending offenders here, and by how dilapidated it looks, I can tell that, unlike the dungeons back at Howleroot, these are rarely used.

Another testament to Queen Cassia’s gentle rulership and kindness. Another testament of how different I am from this place at my core.

She refused to come down here. And I don’t blame her. To be honest, I don’t need her, or any of them, down here for the thing I intend to do.

If I had my way, I would send Igma away, too. But she insisted on being present despite my warnings.

This place reminds me too much of what men become when they stop seeing others as people.

And right now? I’m dangerously close to that edge myself.

For this one creature, I do not see a person. I see a curse. An inconvenient object that I will snurf out today by the moon goddess’s blessings.

At the end of the corridor sits the only occupied cell in the dungeon.

The heavy iron bars cast dark shadows over the figure sitting inside, and my face scrunches at the mere sight of him.

Brown hair, soft features... Alana’s delicate face.

The thing now is, every time I see him, I do not see Alana. I see him. Bram.

Igma is already standing outside the cell when I get there.

She’s silent. There’s tension in her shoulders, and her back is turned to the cell.

Her blue eyes look up at me, and despite saying nothing, I can feel the heaviness in her heart.

Her arms are folded tightly across her chest like she’s physically holding her body together, and the sight enrages me.

She’s the only wolf I’ve met in my life who has an actual fated mate. And to be torn away from that mate for so long... To have no idea where they are, but to know they are in pain and constant suffering for the sake of a creature as disgusting as Bram... It’s unfair.

She looks awful. Not physically. But emotionally. You can see the weight of grief pulling at her heart and echoing on her face.

The thought of how much she’s suffering makes new rage flare hot inside me.

Inside the cell, Bram slowly lifts his head. And smiles.

He fucking smiles!!

A smile that makes me want to break his jaw!

"You finally came," he says softly, and from the corner of my eyes, I see Igma shiver.

That voice... It’s Alana’s voice. It’s not really her, but the moment I step into that cell, it would be her voice crying out, and that is a torture I am sorry Igma is going to have to endure.

I feel my claws push against my fingertips, as my wolf snarls inside me.

Bram notices.

Of course he does.

He notices every change in a room like a starving animal sniffing blood.

His smile widens faintly.

"Igma, will you really let your love suffer like this? My arms are aching. Come hold me for a while. Caress me for a bit. Don’t act like you don’t want to." He sneers, looking at Igma, and her expression twists as she turns back to look at him.

I watch her face, trying to understand what she must be thinking, and then I see nothing but fury in her eyes.

Perfect.

Because if she started crying right now, I think I might genuinely kill him.

"Don’t test me," she warns coldly, and Bram tilts his head lazily against the wall behind him.

"Oh?" he breathes tiredly. "Does hearing her voice hurt you that much?" He taunts, and my jaw clenches.

Igma’s hand tightens around the dagger at her waist hard enough that I hear the leather creak. However, she doesn’t move.

And I know why.

She can’t move. She won’t hurt him. Not really.

Every instinct in her still sees Alana when she looks at him.

That’s the cruelty of all this.

The witches didn’t just steal Alana’s identity. They weaponised it. And that too in such a vicious way.

Bram slowly rises to his feet inside the cell.

"I was beginning to think everyone had abandoned me down here." He scoffs, and my eyes narrow as I watch him.

His eyes slowly shift toward me.

And Light... That smug expression on his face instantly reignites every ounce of fury that’s been burning in me for days now.

Because I remember Howleroot. I remember the fake trembling voice...

The helpless act. The way he manipulated me like some fool! The way he created distance between Elián and me.

The way he watched everything unfold while pretending innocence.

And then? After all that deception...

He dared to return and try to murder me!!

A slow smile spreads across Bram’s face, and I force myself to drag a breath; otherwise, my wolf would take over, and I’d end up putting an end to him before getting what we’re really here for.

"You still look angry." He says, and I step closer to the bars.

His gaze sharpens faintly at my silence. Not in fear, but interest. Like he’s trying to measure how dangerous I currently am.

That’s actually the smartest thing he’s done since I arrived. Because right now?

I am more dangerous than he may ever imagine.

Igma finally speaks again.

"Where is she?" She demands, trying to sound in control, but her voice cracks anyway.

Bram looks toward her slowly.

And Light... Watching her mate’s face look at her like that feels deeply wrong.

"She’s alive," he says softly, and Igma inhales sharply beside me.

Bram notices that too.

The bastard practically feeds off emotional reactions.

"For now," he adds casually, and the silence afterwards feels murderous.

Igma’s breathing changes instantly as hope collides violently against terror.

I know that feeling.

I saw it in Elián one too many times when he tried to prove his innocence to me, but I chose to believe this bastard over him.

"Where— is she?" she asks again. This time, weaker, and Bram smiles.

"Wouldn’t you rather hear how she screamed first?" He replies, and I move before my brain even fully catches up.

The cell door slams open, hard enough to rattle the walls.

Bram barely has time to react before I grab him by the throat and slam him violently into the stone wall behind him.

He grunts in pain, and Igma curses sharply behind me.

I ignore her.

My wolf surges violently beneath my skin now. Silver fur emerging, and claws extending.

Years of discipline strain painfully against the fury clawing through me.

"You think this is amusing?" I growl, and Bram coughs weakly against my grip before smiling anyway.

"Actually..." Blood spills from Alana’s lips as he laughs softly. "A little."

I slam him against the wall again, harder enough to split skin.

The sight of blood on Alana’s face almost makes me hesitate... But my fate for this vile being is stronger than any illusion this face is supposed to whip up.

Instead of falling for it, I remember something else. I remember Elián crying.

I remember the confusion Bram caused. The distrust. The manipulation. The attack... And every ounce of hesitation dies immediately.

"You manipulated people who cared about you," I snarl.

Another slam.

"You lied to me." I hiss as I slam his head into the wall again.

"You used my instincts against me."

Another slam.

"You destroyed my relationship with Elián." I rage as my fingers wrap cruelly around his throat, and he gasps harder now.

The wall behind him fractures deeper with every impact, and Igma grabs my arm suddenly from behind.

"Rhydian." I glance at her with rage I can not tame, and she staggers back a bit.

Her expression is strained. Barely holding together.

"If you kill him before we find her—" She begins, and I sigh.

"I know." I sigh.

I release Bram roughly, and he collapses hard onto the floor, coughing blood violently.

And still—Still the bastard laughs weakly.

He wipes blood from his mouth slowly before glancing up at me through strands of golden hair.

"You really do care about Elián."

The statement immediately pisses me off.

Not because it’s wrong. But because Bram sounds smug about it.

Like he enjoyed interfering. Like it entertained him.

"Everyone does. He’s precious. Not filth like you." I say coldly, and Bram’s smile falters slightly.

Oh? That got to him??

"He trusted you," Igma scolds beside me, and Bram turns to her.

"And look what trusting people get him." He spits.

The moment those words leave his mouth, Igma moves. Fast.

Her fist slams directly into his face, hard enough to snap his head sideways violently.

His gasp echoes through the dungeon, and a smile nearly breaks through my rage.

Finally. Finally, she hit him.

Bram blinks in shock before slowly looking back toward her.

Igma’s hands are trembling now, and I recognise that trembling.

It’s not guilt, or fear, or pain... It’s rage.

"She was so right about you", Igma whispers, and those words hurt me in ways I can’t even process.

Because Alana...the real Alana trusted people. She was open to everyone. Kind and loyal.

The one time she warned me against someone, I didn’t listen. And now she’s somewhere suffering while this monster wears her face.

Bram spits blood onto the floor before laughing weakly again.

"You should see her now." He taunts, and my vision flashes red instantly.

"What did you do to her?" I demand, and Bram leans back against the cracked wall behind him.

"I already told you that. They’re draining her slowly," he says casually, and I feel my wolf surge violently again.

"What do you mean by draining?" Igma whispers, and Bram’s eyes slide lazily toward me.

"Is she dumb, or does she just like repetition?" He sneers, and I shut my eyes as I drag a deep breath.

"To maintain this form, they’re draining her life source, dumbass. Try to keep up." He explains as he faces Igma.

Silence follows.

Because we both know what that means. Every moment, he maintained Alana’s appearance. Every lie, every smile, every second—even now...

It was hurting the real Alana.

Igma staggers backwards slightly, and Bram smiles cruelly.

"She cried sometimes. Now, she’s just quiet. I can feel it. The little bunny is giving up the fight. How sad—"

I punch him so hard, his neck nearly snaps. The impact rattles chains overhead violently, and he groans this time instead of laughing.

Good.

I stalk toward him slowly, and I watch realisation slowly bleed into his eyes.

"You’re going to tell us where she is." I growl, an dhe huffs.

"No."

I kick him directly in the ribs, and I hear the satisfying sound of his bones cracking.

A scream tears from his throat. Alana’s voice.

Fuck!

Even hearing it enrages me more now. Because it feels stolen. Mocked.

Bram curls weakly against the floor, coughing blood. But still shakes his head stubbornly in refusal.

I crouch beside him slowly.

"You came back to kill me," I whisper quietly, and his breathing hitches faintly as he looks up at me.

"And now?" I tilt my head slightly. "Now you’re trapped in a cage wearing the face of someone better than you’ll ever be." I hiss, and that finally wipes the smugness from his face.

So that’s what hurts him. The truth. That he’s nothing but trash, and everyone else is better than he’ll ever be.

Good to know.

I grab him by the hair violently and force his head upward.

"Where is she?" I demand, but I’m met with silence.

I drive my claws directly into his shoulder, and he screams.

Blood splashes across the stone floor beneath us, and Igma throws her face away.

I twist my claws deeper, and his shameless cries follow.

"You have seconds before I rip your heart out. Where is Alana?" I demand with my wolf growling beneath, and this time, I see real fear in his eyes.

"The heart of Jaggered Valley!" He screams out suddenly, and I freeze.

So does Igma.

Bram gasps painfully, but I still do not take out my claws.

"The hidden Covenstead..." he wheezes weakly. "Where the first witches lived before the wars..."

The dungeon falls silent, and tension that I’d like to admit floods my system.

Because everyone knows that place.

It’s ancient. Hidden. Dangerous.

A place swallowed by old magic and older monsters.

Bram coughs up blood weakly before continuing.

"They’re keeping her there." He concludes, and Igma moves before I can register it.

She turns sharply toward the dungeon exit, and I snap my head in her direction.

"We leave now." She orders, and I pull away from Bram as I stand.

"It could be a trap," I warn.

"It’s not!" Her answer comes so fast it almost startles me.

"She’s alive." She adds, and my jaw falls open.

"Yes, but walking into an ancient covenstead blindly is stupid." I retort, but she shakes her head defiantly.

"She’s alive."

The way she says it this time sounds broken... Desperate and terrified.

I walk over to her immediately. She’s not thinking right.

"Igma."

"No."

Her eyes are shining now. Furious, and wet with tears.

"I wasted enough time already."

"You don’t even know how many witches are there."

"I don’t care!" She snaps, and I freeze. The shout echoes through the dungeon violently, and silence follows.

"She’s alone," she whispers. And suddenly... I understand completely why there’s no stopping her.

...Because if Elián were trapped somewhere suffering?

I’d burn kingdoms to reach him, too.

Igma looks back toward Bram one final time, and hatred contorts her face.

"If she dies before I reach her," she says quietly, "I’ll make every witch and warlock involved beg for death."

Even Bram looks unsettled by that promise.

Igma turns sharply afterwards and storms from the dungeon. I watch her disappear into the corridor before slowly glancing back toward Bram.

He’s bleeding heavily now. Barely conscious.

And yet... Still smiling faintly.

"What’s funny?" I ask the mad bastard coldly, and blood slips from his lips as he whispers weakly.

"You still don’t understand."

My eyes narrow.

"Understand what?" I demand, and he slowly lifts his head as his smile grows wider.

"The real war hasn’t even started yet, and you all are already making foolish mistakes."