Ezra
Lysandra stared at me like she was waiting for my skin to peel open and show something strange underneath. Her eyes moved from my arms to my collarbone, then down to my chest again. She looked confused, almost irritated.
"You had so many injuries last night," she said quietly. "Deep ones. You were bleeding so much I thought you were going to die. You could barely walk. I dragged you home, Ezra. I had to support your entire body weight. And now…"
She reached out and touched my arm. "There's nothing."
I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know how I was supposed to react. I rubbed my chest slowly, trying to remember how it felt when those alphas hit me, but my mind was empty. No pain. No memory of the moment she was describing.
"You're saying I healed overnight?"
"No," she said.
"You didn't heal. You're completely restored. There's no trace of what happened. Not a bruise. Not a scratch. Omegas don't heal like this. Not this fast. Not even close."
I swallowed. "So… something's wrong with me."
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "Something is very wrong with you. And now I'm starting to wonder if this has anything to do with the fairy trap, or if it's something else entirely."
I stared at the blanket on my lap. A knot formed in my stomach. I didn't like this at all. If this was a dream, I think it's time to wake the fuck up!
Lysandra stepped back and went to the small table by the wall. "Eat your food first," she said. "You'll need the strength."
She slid a wooden tray toward me. It had bread, broth, and a drink that smelled like cinnamon. My stomach growled even though I didn't feel hungry a second ago. I picked up the spoon and started eating.
Lysandra watched me the whole time, tapping her fingers against her arm like she was thinking through a problem she didn't know how to solve.
Once I finished, she straightened up. "I'm going to run a spell on you."
I stilled. "A what now?"
"A spell," she repeated. "To look into your consciousness. I need to see if something is hiding in there. Something you don't have access to."
I scraped the last bit of broth from the bowl. "Is that safe?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly?" I raised an eyebrow.
She rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Ezra, if I wanted to hurt you, it would have been easier to do it last night instead of dragging your half-dead body home. Just trust me."
I hesitated, but I eventually nodded. "Fine. Do it."
Lysandra moved around the room, pulling out different items.
A small stone bowl, a stick of something that looked like dried grass, and a candle that shone with blue flames instead of the normal orange color.
Then she reached into the bottom drawer of her cabinet and brought out a book so old I was scared the cover would fall apart in her hands.
It was thick and wrapped in a faded leather skin. The edges were torn and uneven, and the whole thing smelled like dust.
"This book is older than Aethelgard itself," she said. "So don't touch it."
She set it on the table and whispered something under her breath. The book shivered, and I mean literally shivered and then the pages flipped on their own until it stopped at a page covered in strange symbols.
I tried not to flinch.
Lysandra motioned for me to sit up straighter. "Close your eyes."
"Is this going to hurt?"
"Only if you fight me," she said.
Great.
I closed my eyes anyway.
She started chanting softly. After a moment she told me to open my eyes again.
When I did, I gasped.
The letters on the page were rising off the paper like they were made of gold dust. They lifted into the air and swirled slowly, circling around my head. My skin tingled.
Lysandra stepped closer, put both hands on the sides of my head, and closed her eyes again. Her chant grew louder.
The warm feeling changed into something strange. My head suddenly felt really heavy. My vision blurred even though my eyes were open. The golden letters flickered even brighter, and a ringing sound filled my ears.
My heartbeat sped up.
"Lysandra… this feels weird," I muttered.
She didn't respond.
Her grip on my head tightened, the chant speeding up like she was trying to hold onto something slipping out of her hands. The air in the room shifted. A cold wind swept past even though the window was closed.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open.
She stumbled backward like something shoved her. But she didn't stop chanting. Her face twisted in confusion and fear.
"What are you?" she whispered.
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean? Lysandra, what's happening?"
She didn't answer. Her chant got louder, faster, and more desperate. The golden symbols swirling around me turned red for a moment. It was bright, sharp red before exploding into tiny sparks.
The candle blew out.
The book snapped shut on its own.
And then a deep voice, one that wasn't mine, suddenly spoke.
"Do not try that again."
Lysandra froze.
The floor vibrated beneath my feet and the entire atmosphere was charged. Then the voice came again.
"I revealed myself only because you are not a threat," the voice said. "I have not revealed myself to him yet. I will do so in my own time."
The voice continued, "If you attempt another spell… if you try to reach into him again… I promise you will not live long enough to speak of it."
Lysandra's breathing turned shaky. She didn't look at me. She stood completely still.
Then immediately there was silence.
The atmosphere suddenly returned to how it was before.
And just like that, my consciousness snapped back into place.
I gasped for air and grabbed the edge of the bed.
"What… what the hell just happened?" I whispered.
Lysandra didn't answer immediately. She was staring at the closed book with wide eyes, she opened her mouth to say something, but before a sound came out—
There was a knock on the door.
Lysandra blinked, as if returning to herself. She straightened her clothes quickly and walked to the door.
She opened it.
A tall man stood there. He had broad shoulders. Clean uniform. Strong jaw. His scent hit the room instantly—it was a familiar scent.
A royal alpha.
"Prince Allen." Lysandra said.
He looked straight at Lysandra, then at me.
"Is he ready?" he asked.