Page 22 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)
Soren
“ D on’t take Sadira, take me,” Soren mumbled as Jabir, a man she knew was one of Nyzaia’s guards, shoved her back into the cell.
She had only been outside of it for thirty minutes or so, although time felt uncertain, and she was quickly losing all sense of it within the cell.
The damp stone walls indicated she was below ground, and the lack of light made it near impossible to track the days.
“Don’t take Sadira, take me,” Soren mumbled again as the keys clinked, securing the lock to her cage.
They won’t take her; she wouldn’t let them take her.
Soren would always protect Sadira. Curling up on the floor of the cell, Soren clutched her head and scrunched her eyes shut.
“Soren!” Help!” a girlish voice cried. Soren whirled in the open expanse of grass surrounded by trees.
Her braids lashed at her face as she continued spinning, realising she had returned to Doltas Island.
“Soren!” Her eyes finally found the small blonde figure atop the tree branch in the centre of the field.
“Sadira!” Soren called; her voice was much younger and smoother, devoid of its usual huskiness.
“What are you doing up there?” Soren ran towards the tree, where she herself had broken her wrist when falling from it as a child.
“Be careful!” she shouted at Sadira. Her young sister wriggled along the branch, searching for a way down.
“You’ll tear your dress, and you know that will make you sad!
Stop wriggling. I'm coming to save you.” Soren finally reached the base of the tree and clambered up onto the highest root.
“I found a baby bird on the floor. It couldn’t fly.” Sadira sniffed, pointing up at the nest on the branch above; three small birds chirped inside. “I just wanted to return it to its nest.”
“You did a great job, Sadira! But you should have asked for help.”
“Last time you helped, mother blamed you for dirtying my dresses! I didn’t want you to get in trouble again.” Soren sighed and focused on her hand movements, spreading her hands wide in front of her, aimed at the ground. Sadira gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you,” Soren mumbled, focusing on her power. A warmth spread in her chest—small and delicate, but there.
“But we haven’t been learning long enough for you to do anything big!”
“Do you want to get down?” Soren retorted. Sadira fell silent and watched closely as the vines twisted at her sister’s feet. Soren furrowed her brow to focus before guiding the lush green vines up the tree in a twisting ladder for Sadira, whose eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.
“Be careful. I don’t know how strong it is, but I’ll catch you if you fall,” Soren said.
Sadira bit her lip at the makeshift ladder; her eyes shone with tears.
“Hey, look at me,” Soren whispered, and Sadira did, her curls tumbling around her face.
“You are brave, you are strong, you can do anything.” Sadira nodded slowly before beginning her climb down the vines, reinforced by Soren’s power.
White flowers grew from the buds, opening with a delicate scent as Sadira took a last step onto the tree roots and flung her arms around Soren’s neck.
“Thank you, Soren,” she whispered into her sister’s braids.
Soren held her sister tight. “I’ll always save you.”
The bright sky of Doltas Island faded from Soren’s mind until she was left with only a slither of light filtering in from a crack on the side of the wall.
Her back was damp when she sat up from the wall and lifted her head.
Jabir slid a tray under the bars and narrowed his eyes, watching.
Some of the contents spilled from the bowl onto the tray, but Soren ignored the food.
Instead, she reached for the bandages on the other side.
She watched Jabir as she wrapped her arms, allowing the fabric to soak up the blood from the lines that would soon form scars, matching the one already on her cheek.
When she tucked the final piece under the end of her wrist, Jabir finally left.
With a sigh, Soren kicked the tray away.
She lost her appetite once they threw her in the cell.
The thought of food sickened her, especially when her mind wandered to her wolves—to Baelyn.
Her eyes watered as she stared at the bowl of meat and rice tipped on its side.
She would give anything to have her wolves here.
She dreaded to think about how Tapesh had been after his sister’s murder.
Her shock at the sudden loss stopped her from fighting Nyzaia.
One moment, she was screaming for her dead wolf; the next, she was blacking out on the sands.
When Soren finally awoke, she was chained to a tree, with Sir Cain watching over her.
She had immediately thought of her wolves again before her mind drifted to Caligh, wondering where he was.
Based on the joyful soldiers walking past, and the lack of dark shadows, she quickly deduced Caligh had lost. Where did that leave her?
A traitor and a prisoner, with no hope of ever returning to the man who had once guided her.
Glancing between Sir Cain and Myara in the distance, she had contemplated if she was fast enough to flee.
“Don’t even think about it,” he’d said. After that, Soren stayed where she was, allowing her mind to conjure more escape plans.
But how would she flee Novisia? She had no boat, no loyal followers, no crew, unless she went to Doltas first. But she knew little about where Caligh would go from there, and that’s when it hit her—she knew so little about him.
Even if she wanted to flee, she couldn’t.
Not without her wolves. She would not abandon the others after losing one member of their pack already.
A sudden ringing crippled Soren. Doubling over in pain, she clutched her head as the same high-pitched frequency from the past few days pierced her mind, forcing her to remember a moment from the past.
“Stop, please stop,” she mumbled, exhausted by the constant visions. She failed to grasp their significance, and it all proved rather tiring.
“It is a big responsibility for Sadira.” The voice of Soren’s grandmother was haunting.
Authority dripped from her tone, despite not having sat on the throne in years.
“And you must be the one to protect her. Can you do that?” Soren stood in the turret room of the castle on Doltas Island.
Her grandmother Lyra did not face her; she remained where she always did, staring out of the window, overlooking the ocean and Garridon, her homeland.
“It would be an honour to protect Sadira and her new husband.” Soren placed her hand on her flat chest. She was barely thirteen, still growing into her young teenage body.
“When will this happen?” Lyra flicked through an old book with the Wiccan symbol on the front, pausing on an illustration of a dark sword.
Her grandmother slammed the cover closed when she sensed Soren’s prying eyes.
Neither Soren nor Sadira were allowed near that book.
“I cannot be certain, but it won’t be long after you see smoke rising from the mainland. A new king will come looking for a bride, and Sadira will be perfect. Their marriage will unite the realm and, one day, their child will bring peace.”
“I will protect them with my life, I swear it,” Soren said, running from the room to look for her sister.
She halted at the sound of crying from their shared rooms and pushed the door open, peeking inside to find Sadira on the velvet seat by the window overlooking the gardens. Tears streamed down her face.
“Sadira.” Soren kept her voice quiet and stepped inside, wiping her sister’s cheeks with the sleeve of her gown. Sadira gave Soren a sad smile as she perched on the arm of her sister’s chair. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to marry someone else.” Sadira sniffed, looking out of the window. Soren followed her eyeline and softened at the sight of Rodik chopping wood. Rodik was always so kind to her sister—funny, too. Even Soren laughed when he was around.
“I’m sorry, Sadira,” Soren murmured, pulling her sister close. “I’m sure the future king will be very kind to you.” Sadira sniffed again. “Besides, no one could ever be mean to you. I’ll be there every step of the way to protect you both.”
Soren slammed her palm against her forehead before smacking her head against the brick wall.
The blinding pain brought her back into the cell’s four walls.
She was going crazy. Her mind was creating false scenarios to punish her for failing Caligh.
She had no recollection of the thoughts at the forefront of her mind.
Sighing, Soren pushed the tray away with her foot before curling up on the floor and resting her head on the thin blanket that had been there since she arrived.
Soren let her mind drift as she stared at the metal bars, reminding her of those in her dreams—Caligh, always before them, never letting her near.
Perhaps Tajana was behind bars like these.
Even though Tajana was Soren’s friend, he still tortured her.
He has a reason for everything , her mind prompted, though a different voice asked: Are those reasons valid?
Soren ignored both voices, silencing her mind.
She wanted to be alone, as she so often was.