Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Whispers in the Dark

The night was unnaturally still.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if the very forest surrounding Silverwood sensed the unrest in the hearts of its rulers.

I lay awake, my cheek pressed against Liam's chest, his heartbeat steady but strained—like a war drum muffled beneath layers of armor. Neither of us spoke. There was no need.

We both knew what lingered between the silence: fear.

Not of what we had discovered—but of what we had yet to uncover.

I slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him, though I knew he wasn't truly asleep. His breathing remained calm, but his grip on the sheets had not relaxed. He was a man torn between fury and control—and I understood that war intimately now.

I wrapped my robe around myself and moved to the window. Below, the palace grounds stretched out in soft moonlight, elegant and deceptive. Nothing about this place felt safe anymore. Not when betrayal had walked so comfortably within its halls.

The chapel.

Garrick.

The prophecy.

The curse.

I pressed my palm to the cold glass.

How long had this been building in the shadows? And how had we been so blind?

"Lola." Liam's voice broke through the silence behind me.

I turned. His golden eyes were fixed on me, awake and burning. "You shouldn't be up," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper.

"Neither should you," I replied softly.

He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "We can't sleep with wolves circling us, love."

I walked over, sitting beside him, my fingers finding his. "We need to know more. The chapel, the curse… the prophecy said even your blood can't be trusted."

Liam's jaw tightened. "And Garrick—if he's conspiring against us—then there's a network. He's not working alone."

A knock at the door startled us both.

Three short taps. A pause. Then two more.

The code.

Liam moved first, grabbing the dagger from beneath the bedpost. He opened the door only slightly, blocking whoever was on the other side with his broad frame.

"It's me," came the whispered voice. Elena.

Liam opened the door wider, motioning for her to enter.

She looked pale, her cloak damp with dew and eyes darting nervously.

"There's something you need to see," she said.

We followed Elena through the servant tunnels—hidden paths carved centuries ago during the first wars, known only to a handful of trusted palace staff. The torches she carried flickered along the damp stone walls as we descended lower and lower beneath Silverwood.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the tomb," she said without turning.

"The tomb?" Liam echoed darkly.

"The ancient one. The one no one speaks of. Where the cursed ones were sealed generations ago."

I stopped. "That's a myth."

Elena turned then, her eyes wide and serious. "No, it's not. I didn't believe it either. Until I saw it."

She pushed open an iron gate at the end of the tunnel. The air inside was ice cold, heavy with the scent of stone and decay. We entered a massive underground chamber. Ancient carvings lined the walls—symbols of old magic, some of them glowing faintly with ethereal blue light.

At the far end was a sarcophagus, larger than any I'd ever seen.

Elena stepped forward, her torch casting light on the lid.

There, carved into the stone, was a name I hadn't expected.

"Lady Selene Blackthorn."

The name echoed in my bones.

"Who is that?" I whispered.

"My ancestor," Liam said slowly. "She was banished for using dark magic. They said she tried to steal the throne by casting a curse of madness over my grandfather."

"But they never said where she was buried," Elena added. "Because they didn't want the story to spread. I found this place by accident—while collecting herbs in the east wing garden. There's a hidden staircase behind the ivy wall."

"And you think this… ties into the prophecy?" I asked.

Elena stepped back. "It's more than that. Look—"

She knelt beside the tomb, brushing away dust from a second inscription barely visible in the stone.

It wasn't a name. It was a phrase:

"She will return through blood and betrayal."

Liam's eyes darkened. "That's the exact wording from the scroll."

"The Queen's blood must be spilt to awaken her," Elena whispered. "That's what they want."

I backed away, breath caught in my throat. "They plan to sacrifice me."

The next day, the palace was too quiet.

The council meeting was canceled without explanation. Several guards were missing from their posts. Garrick claimed they had been reassigned to border patrols, but the unease in his voice betrayed him.

We acted normal. We smiled. We played our parts.

But inside, Liam and I were preparing for war.

He summoned his most loyal soldiers—those he'd fought beside in the Blood Wars, men who owed their lives to him and who would never betray him.

"They will try to isolate you," Liam told me. "We have to beat them at their own game."

That night, under the guise of hosting a royal banquet, we staged a trap.

Garrick, dressed in his usual emerald-accented robes, arrived with a calculated smile. Others followed—nobles with hidden agendas, courtiers who shifted uncomfortably under Liam's gaze.

Wine flowed. Music played. But underneath the laughter, the tension was razor-sharp.

I danced with Liam, every step a silent communication.

They were watching us.

We were watching them.

At the stroke of midnight, Elena appeared at the top of the staircase.

She held something in her hand.

A scroll.

The original prophecy.

"Lords and Ladies," she announced, voice trembling but bold, "forgive the intrusion. But I believe you all deserve to hear the truth."

Liam stepped aside, allowing her to descend. She unrolled the scroll.

And read it aloud.

Every. Single. Word.

The hall fell into stunned silence.

Then chaos.

Garrick lunged forward, eyes flashing with fury. "Lies! This is blasphemy!"

But Liam was ready.

He slammed Garrick to the ground, placing his sword at his throat.

"Enough," Liam growled. "We know."

Guards poured in, surrounding the conspirators. Screams erupted. Some tried to flee. Others begged for mercy.

And then, a single voice cut through the noise.

"It's too late."

It came from the far end of the room.

A woman stood in the shadows—cloaked, faceless, ancient.

"Selene?" Elena gasped.

The woman stepped forward, eyes glowing silver. "Blood has already been spilled. The curse is alive."

To be continued…