The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 428: Help III

SAGE

The change was instantaneous.

One moment, the chamber walls had still been breathing darkness—holding me captive beneath its weight—and the next, they had slid back with a muted, mechanical sigh, severing the grip of that corruption.

Darkness recoiled, and so did its power over me.

Freda did not hesitate. Before I could so much as form a word, before the name on my tongue could escape, she reached forward and pulled the stake free.

Pain exploded. It was violent—white-hot, ruthless, tearing through every nerve, every muscle, every thread of consciousness I possessed. The scream clawed its way up my throat, but I crushed it down, biting hard against it, refusing to give the queen—or this cursed place—the satisfaction of hearing me break.

My body collapsed instantly. The ground surged upward, or maybe I fell toward it. Either way, impact barely registered over the tidal wave of sensation crashing through me.

And then—

El returned.

Not softly. She came like a storm.

Like floodwaters ripping through broken gates. Like a dam bursting under too much pressure, releasing a torrent of warmth, power, and life so overwhelming it nearly tore a sob from my chest.

Energy surged through me—alive, brilliant, cleansing. It wrapped around my bones, flooded my veins, threaded through my lungs, kissed every cell awake.

I felt my organs right themselves beneath El’s life force. Felt breath return—deep, real, unlabored. Felt the wound left by the stake begin to close, muscle knitting, flesh sealing, blood pulling back into disciplined rhythm.

The taint burned. Then it flushed away. Pushed out, rejected, purged.

My blood powered as if scrubbing itself clean, scouring every trace of black magic the poisoned wood had left behind. My chest rose on a fuller inhale, and for the first time in days, air did not taste like decay.

I felt clean. Renewed. It was as though I had shed an old skin.

I pictured myself stripped of my filthy garments, clothed in fresh fabric that smelled of rain and soap. The image clung, vivid, and my body followed the suggestion.

When awareness sharpened, I realized I was dressed in the clothes that always felt most like me—a sweatshirt soft from wear, boyfriend jeans loose at the hips, combat boots grounding me with solid weight.

I laughed, eyes shut, feeling reborn. A phoenix rising from its ashes.

When I opened my eyes, Freda was staring at me in open wonder.

White, smoky coils of magic wound around my arms. They pulsed gently with my heartbeat, responding to the rhythm of my power.

I pushed myself upright. Stronger than before.

Thank you, I whispered inwardly to El. And I’m sorry for not listening.

It’s okay, she murmured back, voice warm but edged with determination. Let’s just finish this. Let’s rid society of the evil stench clinging to it.

A smile curved across my lips. Then widened as I surged to my feet and hurried to Freda, wrapping my arms around her in a tight, grateful hug. She stiffened briefly—still startled—but then returned it firmly.

Freda pulled back slowly, still studying me as though I were something newly discovered. "You really are as powerful as the queen feared."

Her gaze sharpened. "That presence... El. What is she?"

I shrugged lightly, though reverence flickered beneath the gesture. "A life force," I said. "A gift, I believe. From the goddess."

Gratitude welled up again. "Thank you..."

Freda waved it off with a small, brisk motion. "We don’t have time to dissect miracles," she said. "We need to hurry. The meeting—the last queen’s address to the people—it’s happening now. If we don’t interrupt before they march into vampire territory, the war will begin."

I nodded, urgency moving us out of the queen’s quarters.

As we walked, Freda spoke again, her voice lower, more reflective.

"You once asked me why I killed my family," she said.

My ears pricked, attention sharpening. I stayed silent, letting her unfold the story in her own time.

"I was adopted," she continued quietly. "Like Aliana. But my family... they were not kind. They were cruel. Abusive. Daily."

Her jaw tightened. "The man and his son hurt me. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually." The word tasted bitter in her mouth. "I told his wife once. I thought she might protect me."

A hollow laugh escaped her. "She beat me instead."

Anger flared in my chest, but I kept quiet.

"I endured it until I was eighteen," Freda went on. "Told myself I could survive anything. But one night... my stepbrother tried to force a large plastic rod into me... one of his many stupid fantasies..."

Her magic flickered faintly, reacting to the memory. "I snapped."

Her voice remained eerily calm.

"I killed him. My power burned brighter than I had ever known. When his parents rushed in, screaming—I killed them too."

A pause. "I set the house on fire. Then I ran."

She exhaled slowly.

"When I returned later, people were consoling me. They thought I had been a victim. They never knew I was the perpetrator."

Silence stretched between us.

"I told Aliana," Freda added. "She was my friend back then. I trusted her."

Bitterness edged her next words. "But when she wanted to kill Ruelle—her sister—and I opposed it, she threatened me. Fear kept me silent. I knew no one would believe me if the truth came out. No one would believe the abuse. Or that Aliana planned to murder her own blood."

"So you stayed quiet," I murmured softly.

She nodded once.

I swallowed hard. Then asked, "How did Ruelle really die?"

Freda’s mouth tightened.

"Aliana crafted an object," she said quietly. "Something shaped like Ruelle. Baptized it in black magic. Then she struck it again and again—until the real queen died in her sleep."

My chest constricted.

"As powerful as Ruelle was," Freda continued, "she couldn’t fight black magic fast enough. She died first from betrayal."

A sigh slipped from her lips. "Ruelle knew her sister practiced dark arts. She believed she could change her."

A bitter understanding settled over me. "So she was careless," I murmured. "Just like I was."

"Well," I said more firmly, lifting my chin as we passed into the courtyard’s edge, "today, she gets justice. For herself. And for me."

We moved past stone pillars, across open space, toward the looming gates that separated the palace grounds from the wider world.

Wind brushed my face, stirring hope. Then I turned to ask Freda another question—

And froze.

She had stopped walking. And a dark line streaked from the corner of her mouth.

Blood.

My heart lurched. "Freda—"

Confusion clouded my vision as she staggered slightly, shoulders tightening, breath hitching.

Then a voice sliced through the air. Cold. Mocking. Amused.

"Where do you think you’re going, traitor?"