Chapter 209

Chapter 209: Chapter 209

Lysander’s pov

The drug was a heavy, suffocating weight in my blood, pulling every nerve into a deep, cold numbness. My arms hung limp from the iron ring-bolts, my wrists bruised and bloody inside the silver-plated chains anchored to the stone wall. My toes barely scraped the freezing floorboards of the cellar.

I couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t lift my chin. My vision swam in blurred, dark waves as the sweet, poisonous draught of dream-poppy tried to drown my mind in absolute stillness.

Through the thick, hazy fog, I saw the witch step closer.

Her gnarled, oil-stained fingers hovered inches above my waist, slick with dark blood-oil that smelled of rot and old graves. Her dry, cracked lips began to move, twisting around an ancient, poisonous chant that sent an icy shiver straight into the damp air of the cellar.

No... my soul wept into the dark, heavy silence inside my skull. No, please...

I couldn’t draw on my strength. The drug had deadened my muscles, turning my body into a heavy, unresponsive shell. But deep beneath the numbness—deep beneath the paralyzing poison—a different kind of fire began to burn.

I forced my throat to work. I clawed at the thick haze in my brain, dragging my consciousness back to the surface through sheer, agonizing willpower. My vocal cords felt dry and torn, but I forced air into my lungs, pushing past the drug’s heavy grip until a ragged, broken sound spilled from my lips.

"Stop..." I rasped out, my voice barely a thread, trembling violently against the cold stone walls. "Please... stop..."

The witch didn’t pause. Her hollow, dark eyes remained fixed on my lower stomach, her chant rising in pitch as a faint, sickly black light began to pulse around her fingers.

Beside her, Julian stood with his hood pulled low, his silver-tinted eyes wide with a cold, triumphant satisfaction. Gideon leaned against the stone stairs, his sharp face carved into an expression of unyielding, clinical detachment.

Tears burst from my eyes, hot and scalding as they dragged through the dirt and dried blood on my cheeks. I wept openly, my chest heaving against the cold stone behind my back as I looked up into Julian’s pale, unreadable face.

"Punish me..." I sobbed, my voice cracking, raw with a desperate, crushing agony that tore through the quiet cellar. "Do whatever you want to me... Lock me in the dark... Chain me to this wall forever... I deserve it. I deserve every bit of suffering you give me..."

Julian’s eyebrows pulled together slightly beneath his hood, a flicker of dark surprise crossing his features as he heard my weeping plea.

"I made mistakes..." I choked out, my words tumbling over each other in a desperate, broken stream as the witch’s hands lowered closer to my skin. "I was weak... I lied to Drake... I hurt him... I let fear make a coward out of me... I deserve to be hated... I deserve to bleed for every tear I made him shed..."

The dark oil touched the thin fabric of my linen tunic over my lower middle. A sharp, burning cold bit into my skin, seeking the delicate heat beneath.

"Lysander, be quiet," Gideon said flatly from the stairs, his tone completely devoid of mercy. "The ritual has already begun."

"No! Please!" I screamed, a broken, breathless roar that shredded my throat, my tears spilling fast and hot over my chin. "I’m begging you! Don’t take the baby! Please... don’t take his child!"

I squeezed my unblinking, tear-streaked eyes shut, my soul thrashing wildly against the heavy drug binding my flesh.

"It’s his..." I wept into the dark, my whole frame shivering with a terrifying, helpless devotion. "It’s Drake’s... It’s the only precious thing I have left to give him... It’s my only gift to the man I love..."

I know that now. If the child would bring us back together then I must protect it with my life. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to this child.

Drake wouldn’t forgive me too. My tears spilled at the thought of his name. I wanted to be back at his side with everything I have.

Julian took an instinctual step back, his face turning pale as he heard the absolute, unconditioned love ringing in my weeping voice. He stared at me—at the bruised, chained hybrid hanging helpless from the wall, sobbing not for his own life, not for his own freedom, but for the tiny pulse of life inside his core.

"I love him..." I whispered into the freezing air, my chin dropping to my chest, my body trembling so hard the iron links of my chains rattled loudly against the ring-bolts. "I love him more than my own life... More than my blood... Please... spare Drake’s child... Take me instead... Kill me, but let the baby live..."

The dark, sickly light around the witch’s gnarled fingers flared brighter, pressing straight into my skin. An icy, agonizing pain shot into my center, trying to sever the fragile, warm thread binding my child to this world.

I didn’t have strength left to fight with muscle or magic. I had only my love, my devotion, and the unshakeable vow of a mother.

Deep within my numb, poisoned core, I wrapped my entire spirit around the tiny pulse of life. I held it tight inside my soul, shielding it with every thread of my being, taking the cold, poisonous sting of the dark magic straight into my own marrow so it wouldn’t touch my baby.

"I love you, Drake..." I whimpered into the quiet dark, my consciousness fraying at the edges as the dark magic clashed violently against my stubborn, unyielding love. "I love you... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry..."

The witch’s poisonous chant reached a sharp, deafening pitch, the cold black light digging deeper into my skin, trying to tear my world apart in the dark.

And right at the edge of the void, deep within the frozen, dying silence of the cellar, the bond in my chest suddenly gave a sharp, blinding pulse of white-hot heat.