Escape plan 1

The cell door creaked open with a heavy groan, and a few shadowy figures stepped inside. They moved with an eerie precision, their eyes gleaming with a cold determination. Without a word, they advanced towards me, their strong hands closing around my frail limbs. I offered no resistance, merely surrendering to their grip as they dragged me across the cold, hard floor. My strength had ebbed away, and I was too exhausted to walk under my own power. Every step felt like it required an immense effort, and I needed to conserve whatever energy I had left for the potential escape I hoped to orchestrate later.

They led me out of the cell and into a dimly lit chamber where the walls were lined with obscure symbols and arcane diagrams. In the center of the room was a large, circular space marked with strange, intricate runes. The markings were a mix of dark and light shades, swirling together in patterns that seemed to writhe and shift in the flickering candlelight. As they brought me to the center of the circle, my senses were overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and curiosity.

They dropped me unceremoniously onto the powdery surface of the circle. I instinctively reached out to touch the markings beneath me. The texture was gritty and coarse, the powder leaving a fine dust on my fingertips. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized the circle was not just a simple drawing but something far more significant.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my hand with a firm, almost painful grip. I looked up to meet the eyes of one of the figures, who was staring at me with an expression of disapproval and disdain. His eyes were sharp and unforgiving, as if my very presence was a stain on his carefully constructed plans.

"Your Majesty, the time has finally come," he intoned with a voice that dripped with condescension. "Are you prepared for what is to follow?"

His tone held a mockery of politeness, as if he were speaking to a child rather than a prisoner. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. I glanced around, trying to gauge the situation, but all I could think about was the sense of foreboding that clung to every corner of the room.

"On behalf of Lysan, I thank you," he said.

"We thank you," the group chorused.

"Shall we begin?" he asked. "Don't be scared. It'll hurt a lot, but just remember the revolution and be happy that you could participate," he added, still smiling.

The people took their positions and began chanting something unfamiliar. Since meeting Callum, something had been bothering me, and now I was more curious.

How could they use magic? They weren't shifters. Magic only existed within shifters, so how could they wield it? The only answer was dark magic.

Dark magic involved making a sacrifice to tap into the remnants of faerie power. Considering how much magic Callum could use, the sacrifice must have been significant.

I had no intention of being their sacrifice for increased power. No, thank you.

I bent over and clutched my chest dramatically. The others brought out knives and cut their palms, letting the blood drip into the circle. As the blood connected with the markings, it stopped in front of the creepy man. He cut his palm, letting his blood flow slowly. I seized the opportunity to destroy the circle.

So engrossed were they in their chants that they didn't notice until I stood up. I ran quickly while they were still disorganized, but as I reached the door, I was blocked by two men. Before I could react, I felt a hard hit to the back of my head.

…

My feet dragged across the ground as I slowly opened my eyes. Two people were holding my arms. I blinked twice and looked up. They were taking me back to the cell.

I stood up straight and forced my hands out of their grip. They tried to grab me again, but I dodged and ran off quickly. My head throbbed—not just from the hit but also from the memory. Did getting hit on the head somehow help me? If so, I should have banged my head against the wall earlier.

Callum. I wished there was a way to exact revenge, but there wasn't. How dare he?

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I fled. I had to run, and that's what I did, blindly and desperately, with no clear destination.

There was no one. I knew that.

'No one will save me. No one will come for me. I'm alone. I have to run. I have to save myself. I have to go back. I have to see my family again, no matter what.'

I saw a few people running toward me, so I turned and fled in the opposite direction, but I was blocked on that side as well. There was a door not far where people had come out, but there was nowhere to run. I was trapped.

"Your Majesty," the creepy man called as he approached me. I stepped back slowly, searching for a way out, but there was none. He shook his head and looked at his people. "Take her back."

I was taken back to my cell, feeling utterly helpless. They chained my hands and left me there. I looked down as fresh tears streamed down my face.

This is all my fault. It's all because I didn't trust Kael. If I had stayed, if I hadn't left the first time, none of this would have happened. I put both myself and them in danger. If I had told Kael about Callum's true nature the first time, I could have avoided all this.

A female lead? Who am I kidding? My life is no story; it's a joke. And the worst part is, it's not even funny.

I dragged at the chains, which only gave me small cuts. I wanted the pain; I felt like I deserved it. I brought this on myself, and I can't let my family be put in danger because of me.

Crying won't solve my problems, but I can't stop. I needed to let out the frustration somehow.