Chapter 3: The Elusive Prey
Henry’s voice was the first sound that greeted Orion upon waking.
"Your Grace, by the name of the gods, what did you discover?"
Orion turned, still holding the outcold woman in his arms. Henry stood several steps away, drawing out his sword, his expression impassive. His eyes flashed from the otherworldly gold cavern to the slumping figure over Orion's chest.
"A girl," she replied matter-of-factly.
Henry took one cautious step forward, eyes fixed on her. "She has paint splattered across her, it's yellow. I didn't even realize she was there." His eyes remained stuck on her, furrowing. "What is she?"
Orion smirked. "And that's just what I'm going to find out."
Sheathing his blade, Henry let out a deep exhale."And here I had expected us to have come here for the witch, not lost forest creatures."
Orion’s grip just tightened enough on the girl. "It may very well be the witch."
Henry didn’t argue. He only nodded slowly. "Then let us leave, so this vile place does not get offended by us being here."
Orion agreed. The cave still thrummed with otherworldly energy, and he had no wish to stay there waiting to find out what other secrets it had.
With one last glance back over the gold walls, he turned and exited the cave, carrying the girl.
Sylvara woke up to the cold ground below.
The air had an other scent, not earthy, not woodsy, but one that was harder, one that wasn't natural. A whiff of wood, an odor of paper, an unfamiliar scent.
She opened her eyes slowly.
Bars.
Stone walls.
A single, flickering torch illuminated the distance.
A prison cell.
She sat bolt upright too suddenly, head reeling from the movement. She placed a palm against her temple, fighting to get back to center. Where was she? The last thing she had known was the black figure, the silver-eyed tracker, pursuing her toward the cave.
And now. She had finally arrived. Imprisoned.
Sylvara’s fingers curled tightly into fists, breathing tightly, sharply.
They had taken her away from the woods.
Her home. Her reality.
Footsteps echoed past the cell. She did not budge, did not wince, only listened. The heavy, un-rush'd tread of boots across stone.
Then he appeared. The man from the cave. Orion.
He stood outside the cell, looking down over the bars. His presence filled the air, untroubled, assured, as if he possessed not just the prison, but the air she breathed.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then.
"Who are you?" asked Orion.
Sylvara didn’t say anything. She stared blankly at him. She wasn't going to provide him with the satisfaction of an answer.
Orion tilted his head, as if contemplating her silence.
Then, without any other word, turned away, and walked.
"It’s been two months, my lord."
Henry’s voice was steady, unhurried.
Orion sat by himself in his study, tapping listlessly against the table.
"The girl hasn't spoken a word," continued Henry. "And she hasn't eaten. At this rate, she'll die."
Orion didn’t glance away from the paper in front of him. "She won't."
Henry exhaled. "You sound so sure."
Orion leaned back, silver eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "An average woman would have died weeks ago. But she still exists. Still breathing." His knuckles beat an impatient rhythm against the wood. "She’s hiding something."
Henry hesitated. "Does she expect something, you think?"
Orion’s smirk crept slowly. "I think she’s playing hard to get."
A pause. Then.
"Bring her over here."
Henry hesitated, the first time. "Your Grace, she was found in the Dark Forest. We have no idea what she is or.."
"I will only say it once."
Henry gave a curt, abrupt headshake. "Yes, my lord."
He turned away and exited the room, not saying another word.
They brought her to him that evening.
She was silent as ever, but Orion didn’t miss the way her eyes moved, taking in everything.
She was curious.
The city. The manor. The people.
It was unlike anything she had ever seen. Orion watched her while leaning back in his chair.
"What are you?"
Sylvara’s violet eyes snapped toward him, but she said nothing.
"A normal human would have been dead after two months without food," he continued. "Yet you haven’t even lost weight. You still look the same." His tone was even, calculated. "Strange, isn’t it?"
Still, she did not respond.
Orion exhaled through his nose, then reached toward the table beside him. He picked up the small, white rabbit resting there.
Something changed in Sylvara the instant she saw it. Her hands twitched at her sides as her posture grew rigid. Orion grinned more broadly.
Ah.
With his fingers delicately encircling the rabbit's little neck, he whispered, "I'll take its head off if you don't say anything in three seconds."
Sylvara’s breath caught.
"Two."
Her lips parted.
"No!"
Orion’s fingers relaxed slightly.
Her voice was soft, softer than he had expected.
How had she hidden a voice like that?
"Ah," Orion murmured. "So you do value something."
Sylvara’s violet eyes burned with frustration. "Please," she said, her voice controlled, careful. "Give it back."
Orion looked at her for a while. He then carefully stroked the rabbit's silky fur with his fingertips.
He wondered, "How can you hide a voice like that?" Sylvara remained silent. Repositioning the bunny on his lap, he kept a close eye on her. He glanced at Henry and said, "Why haven’t you removed the yellow substance from her body yet?"
Henry's face was unintelligible. "It seems to be from a plant called yemtema. Once the yellow print touches the skin, it’s impossible to remove."
Orion hummed. "Impossible?"
Henry nodded. "Not by any means we know of."
Orion’s eyes flickered back to Sylvara. She must have been aware of a method to get rid of it.
He inclined his head a little. "How were you able to survive in the Dark Forest?" "You’re also not a witch, so how?"
Sylvara grasped the sheets tightly as she observed him. Her violet eyes, still laden with fatigue, possessed a sharpness that remained undiminished despite her weakened condition.
"Why?" she asked in a gentle voice. "Why are you so confident that I'm not a witch?" With his arms crossed and his silver gaze fixed on her, Orion leaned against the bedpost.
"Since I understand more than anyone else," he whispered.
Sylvara scowled, pausing.
He breathed out gradually, then pushed away from the post, moving nearer. As he When he reached her bedside, he leaned forward to look into her eyes. "Witches have one thing in common," he said in a silky voice. As if searching for something missing, his gaze swept over her face.
"A dark gem," he went on, "instilled in their foreheads as soon as their magic stirs." His fingers lingered close to her temple yet did not make contact. "Some are tiny, hardly seen." Some are jagged, resembling fragments of onyx. "Yet regardless of their strength or intelligence, none of them can conceal it."
Sylvara maintained his stare, her heart racing.
"And still," Orion whispered, his grin reappearing, "I notice no sign on you."
His fingers lightly brushed against her skin before retreating, his face impassive.
"Now, little wolf," he reflected, rising to his full stature, "if you are indeed a witch… then where is your stone?"
Sylvara’s face remained unchanged.
Orion’s fingers moved, tightening ever so slightly on the rabbit’s neck. Not enough to harm it, just enough for her to see.
A test. A game. She knew it. Sylvara’s breath hitched, but she did not speak. Orion’s silver eyes gleamed.
"You are hiding something," he murmured. "And I intend to find out what."
