Page 173 of Moonlit Fate

I leaned against the cold stone, the damp seeping through my clothes. My head ache, and I couldn’t breathe properly in the thick air. The walls told me nothing more.

A bitter laugh escaped me. They didn’t have the key to unlock what was mine. Not yet.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to sense the edges of my magic. It was like reaching through thick fog, feeling for something solid but grasping only mist. My power surged, rebelling against the confines, throbbing with a life of its own. It wanted out, and so did I.

“Easy,” I whispered, trying to soothe the tempest inside.

I took a step, then another, my hand skimming the wall for balance. My chest tightened, my heart pounding so fast it threatened to tear out of my chest.

I couldn’t breathe. Panic clawed at my throat. The room started spinning, the meager light flickering like a dying flame. I stumbled, my legs giving way as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.

My knees hit the ground, but I barely felt the impact. My magic thrashed wildly, a caged beast desperate for freedom.

“Need... air...” I gasped. There was none. Just the weight of captivity, squeezing the life out of me.

Everything faded—the runes, the stone, the lingering hope of escape. There was only darkness, silence, and the slow slip into unconsciousness.

The jangle of keys had me jerking my head up. A guard strode through the door, broad shoulders set as he balanced a tray in his hands. My nostrils flared at the scent of stew cutting through the dank mustiness I’d grown too accustomed to. My stomach gave a traitorous rumble, but I forced it down, focusing on what mattered: escape.

I watched him like a hawk as he neared, the tray hitting the stone floor with a clang that made me flinch. His gait was off. He favored his right leg and couldn’t quite close his left hand. Not a regular injury. Had to be magical, since shifters healed quickly from anything else. I stored away every detail. Each little thing could be the key to getting out of here.

“Enjoy,” he grunted as he swung around to leave.

“Wait!” I called out.

He stopped in his tracks and turned, a scowl forming on his weathered face. “Could you bring me some water?” I asked, injecting a quiver into my words. “I’m so thirsty.”

He studied me. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he weighed my request. My face remained still, a mask of vulnerability complete with big eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

“Fine,” he said in a harsh exhale of air. He turned, footsteps heavy as he moved toward the far end of the room.

Now. It had to be now.

I tensed, ready to spring, watching him with the intensity of a predator tracking its prey. The moment he touched the pitcher, I pushed off the ground, silent and swift.

I closed the distance between us without a sound, drawing from the well of strength inside me—not the magic that ran in my blood, but something more primal.

“Here’s your w—” he started.

I slammed my fist into his lower back, right at the spot where vulnerability had shown itself in his limp. He lurched forward from the impact, a grunt forced from his lungs.

“Wha—” His voice was a mix of pain and surprise. He hadn’t seen it coming. They never did.

I didn’t wait to watch him crumble. I snatched the keys from his belt, fingers closing around the cold metal like a lifeline. Heart pounding, I took off, my feet slamming against the stone floor. A wild laugh almost escaped me. Almost.

“Stop! Thief!” he barked, his voice echoing through the cellar.

I could feel the beginnings of my power stirring within, a trickle where there should have been a flood. No time to shift, not yet. I pushed harder, every step a race between hope and despair as I bolted, the keys biting into my palm. My freedom was mere steps away, each stride a desperate plea to the universe. As quick as I was, the guard was quicker.

“Get back here!”

His heavy steps thundered like drumbeats against the stone floor, growing louder, closer. I didn’t dare look back, didn’t want to waste even a single second of my forward momentum.

His hand clamped around my ankle, and I tumbled to the floor. The keys flew from my grasp, skittering across the floor with a mocking jingle. We rolled around in a tangle of limbs. I tried to fight him off, but I was too weak.

“Let go, “ I spat, throwing a punch in the direction of his face.

“Nice try,” he scoffed, his hand closing around my arm with a grip that felt like it could crush bone. He shoved me toward the cot, and I stumbled, the force of his push telling me escape wouldn’t come easy. “You’re not going anywhere.”

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