CHAPTER 163: CHAPTER 163: A MOTHER’S TEAR

Lorraine’s POV

Felix and I sat together in the dim light, the quiet hum of distant voices filtering in from somewhere beyond the walls. It was strange, talking to him like this. Of course we’d spoken before, we practically lived together at the feral dorm, but tonight.... tonight felt different. Maybe it was because I was exhausted enough to let my guard down, or maybe because I’d already lost too much to care about pretenses anymore.

We spoke about everything and nothing. About the academy. About the nights when I thought I wouldn’t survive to see morning. About the ridiculous pranks we once pulled on our friends in the feral dorm. And somehow, in between the laughter and the heavy silences, I felt.... lighter. Clearer. Like all the noise in my head had finally settled, leaving me with the pieces that mattered.

After a while, I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"How’s it going with the Ghosthound Queen?" I asked quietly, breaking the moment. "Is she awake?"

Felix’s expression tightened, and he shook his head.

"Last I heard, she’s still asleep. But...." he hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "The wolfsbane supply is almost gone. Once it runs out, she could wake up at any moment. Kieran and the others have been... deliberating on how to handle it."

A cold shiver ran through me, and I felt my body tense, hard. My chest squeezed as the images from that hidden chamber came flooding back, uninvited and vivid. The screams. The tearing of flesh like it was nothing but paper. And her bloodied hand..... ripping my arm clean off without a flicker of hesitation.

I swallowed, my throat tight.

"Help me up," I said, my voice lower, sharper. I raised my only arm toward him. "Take me to where they are."

Felix didn’t move.

"Lorraine... I don’t think this is the right time." His voice was careful, cautious, like he was trying to step around glass without breaking it. "She...." He stopped himself, then met my eyes. "She took off your arm. I don’t think you’re ready to face her yet."

Something in me bristled, an old stubbornness sparking to life like it always did when someone told me I couldn’t do something.

"I’m not ready?" I echoed, my tone laced with bitter amusement. "Felix, I’ve been ’not ready’ for just about everything that’s happened in my life. But it’s never stopped me before."

His gaze softened, but he still didn’t move.

"This isn’t the same. She’s not like the people you’ve faced before. You... you saw what she can do."

"I did," I cut in, my voice firm now. "And that’s exactly why I need to be there. I’m not going to hide while everyone else makes decisions about her. I’ve faced her once, and I’ll face her again, whether I’m ready or not."

The air between us grew heavier, neither of us looking away. Finally, Felix let out a slow, reluctant sigh.

"You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?"

"I’ve been told," I said, a flicker of a smirk tugging at my lips despite the pounding in my chest.

He reached out, clasping my arm to help me up. And as I rose to my feet, every nerve in my body felt like it was bracing for what came next.

Because ready or not, I was going to face her.

Felix’s hand was warm around mine, his pace slow as if afraid I’d crumble if we moved too fast.

"I still don’t think this is the right time for you to meet the Queen," he said quietly. "She... she took off your arm, Lorraine. You might not be ready to face her yet."

My jaw tightened. The memory of that moment, the pain, the heat, the scream I never got to finish, flashed in my mind. But it didn’t make me waver. "I am ready," I told him, my voice sharper than I intended. "If I can’t look her in the eye now, when will I? I won’t hide."

He didn’t argue further, only nodded and guided me down a quieter hall to another medical bay.

The moment Felix pushed the door open, thick smoke rolled out, curling into my face like ghostly fingers. I coughed, blinking rapidly, my eyes burning as I stepped inside. It took a few seconds for the haze to thin enough for me to see what was happening.

Magnus and Varya were kneeling on the floor, hunched over Kieran’s still body. My heart lurched.... he wasn’t moving.

And across the room, at the far bed, Astrid and Cyrin stood over the bed where she laid. The Ghosthound Queen.

"She isn’t awake?" Astrid’s voice was tight, laced with something between concern and suspicion.

"I think the ritual took a toll on her," Cyrin replied, his tone grim. "Hopefully, she’ll be sane and normal when she wakes up."

My voice scraped out before I could think. "What’s.... going on?"

Every head turned.

"Lorraine?!" Astrid was suddenly moving, her boots hitting the floor hard as she crossed the space between us. Before I could react, she pulled me into a fierce embrace, her breath warm against my ear. "Do not scare me like that again, Lorraine," she exhaled, her arms tightening briefly before letting go.

I stood there, my pulse hammering in my ears, my gaze flicking from Kieran’s unmoving form... to the sleeping Queen... and back again.

I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the sudden dryness in my throat.

"What... what happened to Kieran?"

My voice sounded strange to my own ears, too thin, almost brittle. Magnus looked at me but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he bent down and slid his arms under Kieran’s still body. Even from here I could see the slackness in the Alpha King’s face, the unnatural limpness of his limbs. My stomach tightened.

Varya moved fast, clearing a long metallic table in the corner with one sweep of her arm. Bottles clattered to the floor, parchment sheets fluttered away like startled birds. Magnus crossed the space in three strides, setting Kieran down with a care that felt almost foreign for someone of his size and sharp edges.

Cyrin was already moving. His expression was all business as he came to stand over the table, pressing fingers to Kieran’s neck, then his wrist, then scanning his face. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, but his frown was faint, almost relieved.

"His body is exhausted," Cyrin finally said, his voice even, "but he’ll be fine. He just needs some rest."

The sound of everyone exhaling at once was almost loud enough to fill the silence. My chest loosened just enough for some air to slip in.

But my eyes stayed on him, Kieran, lying there with his head turned slightly to the side, lashes resting against pale skin. That face wasn’t meant to look this still. The last time I’d seen him, his voice had been a blade, cutting me open without mercy. I could still hear him telling me, with such terrifying calm, to go and die.

The words flashed in my mind now like a brand, searing me all over again. My hands curled into fists at my sides. I shook my head hard, as though I could throw those memories off like dust.

Then..... tgere was a sound.

It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to cut through every other thought in the room, a sudden, heavy breath.

My head snapped toward the bed. My eyes widened. She was awake.

The Ghosthound Queen’s chest rose again in another breath, her eyelids fluttering open. My breath caught and held, frozen in my chest. My skin prickled as though the air itself had turned colder. Without even realizing it, I was already stepping back.

I was shaking before I knew it. My heart thudded so hard it was almost painful, my pulse racing in my ears.

A warm hand closed around mine, steady, grounding. Felix. His grip tightened just enough to keep me anchored. My fingers clung to his without thinking.

Across the room, Cyrin moved toward the bed, his every step was measured and cautious. The Queen’s eyes flicked around, sharp and darting, scanning the walls, the people, the strange haze in the air.

"My Queen," Cyrin said softly, as if approaching a wild creature that might bolt.

Her gaze landed on him, narrowing slightly. "Cyrin.... what’s going on?" Her voice was raspy, disoriented, yet still carried the edge of command. "How... how am I awake with no wolfsbane connected to me? And where.... where am I? Where is my husband, and where is my son?"

The questions tumbled out of her, growing faster with each word.

Cyrin didn’t flinch. He simply lifted a hand and pointed toward the table. Her head turned, and the moment her eyes fell on Kieran’s still form, something in her face cracked.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying to rise. But her knees buckled almost immediately, and Cyrin caught her before she could hit the floor.

"Please...." she breathed, and it was a plea, not a command. "Please don’t tell me I did that to my son, Cyrin. Don’t tell me I’m the reason my son is like that."

Her voice broke on the last word, shattering into something raw and jagged. The Queen, the Ghosthound Queen, the woman everyone described as unbreakable, fell to her knees. The sound of it made the air in the room feel heavier.

She didn’t care about the silver chains still wrapped around her hand. She was just there, on the ground, her hands gripping the fabric of her gown, her head bowed as tears slid down her face.

I couldn’t move for a moment. Couldn’t speak. I just stared.

Because the image in front of me didn’t make sense. This was the woman who, not long ago, had ripped through people like they were paper, who had torn my arm without a flinch, who had terrified me enough that even thinking of her made my stomach clench. She had been a nightmare given form, a force that could not be reasoned with.

And now...

Now she was a mother, on her knees, breaking for her son.