Chapter 699: The Face of the Traitor
Chapter 698: The Face of the Traitor
Sophia watched herself surrounded by rocks.
Stone pillars rose in a loose circle around the clearing, their surfaces carved with symbols she recognized from the drawings Ronan had brought back. The Nir’thal Circle. The place where the seal had been anchored, where sacrifices had been made, where black magic had been performed long before any of them had been born.
And she was in the center of it.
Bound.
Her arms stretched outward, chains biting into her wrists as they connected to two of the pillars. Her legs were restrained similarly, spread wide enough that she could not move without pain. The stone beneath her was cold and rough, and the sky above was a flat, lifeless gray.
Her head was bowed, her hair hanging limp around her face. She looked defeated.
Selith was there.
The old woman moved around the edge of the circle, her hunched frame casting long shadows against the stone. She was chanting—low and rhythmic, the words unfamiliar to Sophia’s ears. The blackened lips moved without pause, and the symbols carved into the pillars pulsed faintly in response, glowing with a dull, sickly light.
Sophia watched herself try to move.
The chains rattled, but they did not give.
She watched herself try again.
Nothing.
Victoria stood a short distance away. Blood was splattered across her clothes—across her chest, her arms, her hands—but it was not hers. The smile on her face made that clear.
She was watching the bound Sophia with something that looked like satisfaction.
"You really thought you could escape me," Victoria said softly, almost fondly. "You really thought you could hide."
Sophia did not respond.
Victoria laughed.
It was light, airy, completely at odds with the blood on her hands.
Then footsteps approached from somewhere behind her, and Victoria turned, her smile widening as a new figure stepped into view.
"Ah," she said. "There you are."
The man who walked into the circle was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark armor that bore no insignia Sophia could recognize. He moved with ease.
He stopped a few feet from Victoria and bowed his head.
"You have done well," Victoria said to him. "If not for you, this raid would not have been successful."
The man straightened.
"I would do anything for my family," he said.
His voice was low, smooth, and something about it tugged at the edges of Sophia’s memory. She studied his face carefully—the set of his jaw, the curve of his brow, the way his eyes moved across the scene before him with cold efficiency.
She did not know him.
But he looked familiar. Maybe she had seen him in passing?
Victoria laughed.
And then she turned to the bound Sophia, her smile sharpening into something cruel.
"I am sure you did not expect a traitor in your pack," she said. "But just like the past, when there was a traitor among the Nightshade Pack, there was one again."
She gestured toward the man.
Sophia’s eyes locked onto his face, searching for something—anything—that would tell her who he was. The shape of his nose. The color of his eyes. The way he stood, weight balanced evenly, like someone trained for battle.
The way he looked at Victoria with something that might have been loyalty.
Neoma stirred within her with something close to glee.
*We have the traitor’s face. We can find him.*
Before Sophia could say anything more, everything went black.
---
Sophia gasped.
The sound tore out of her throat, raw and violent, as her eyes flew open. She was coughing—choking on air that felt too thick, too heavy, too much all at once. Her chest heaved, and her hands clutched at something solid beneath her.
A bed.
She was on a bed.
Not the medical facility though, she was sure of that. This place smelled like Orion.
The room slowly came into focus around her—the familiar walls, the familiar furniture, the familiar weight of someone sitting beside her. Orion’s home. She was in Orion’s home.
"Here."
Orion’s voice was steady. He extended a cup of water toward her, and she took it with shaking hands, bringing it to her lips before she could even think to thank him.
The water was cool, soothing the rawness in her throat. She drank greedily, spilling some down her chin, and did not care.
When the cup was empty, she lowered it and stared at it for a long moment, trying to remember how to breathe normally.
"You sure took your time with this one," Orion said.
Sophia looked at him.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him through the blankets. His expression was calm too.
"The last time I had a vision this detailed," Sophia said, her voice still rough, "was when I saw you for the first time."
Orion’s brow lifted slightly.
"When we were children?"
She nodded.
He said nothing, but his hand found hers on the blanket, his fingers threading through hers.
Sophia stared at their joined hands for a moment. Then she looked up at him, and before she could think about what she was doing, she gestured for him to move closer.
Orion frowned.
But he did not ask why.
He simply shifted forward, closing the distance between them, and Sophia wrapped her arms around him. The embrace was tight—tighter than it probably needed to be—and she pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing him in.
It was quite funny, but he smelled alive.
Orion did not ask what was wrong. He did not pull away. He simply held her, one hand resting against her back, the other cupping the back of her head, and let her stay there for as long as she needed.
When she finally released him, she kept her hands on his shoulders, unwilling to let go completely.
"I’m okay now," she said quietly.
Orion nodded.
"That’s enough."
He paused, then asked her,
"What did you see?"
Sophia opened her mouth to answer, and then she realized they were not alone.
The room was full.
Elders stood along the walls, gathered in clusters, their faces turned toward her with expressions ranging from concern to curiosity. Daniel stood near the window, his arm across his chest. Caspian sat in a chair near the hearth, his hand resting on his back. Madam Tyler stood beside him, her staff in hand.
Brynhild was there too.
She stood near the door, her arms crossed, a huge smile on her face despite the obvious dirt smeared across her clothes. There was ash in her hair and what looked like blood on her sleeves, but she looked genuinely happy.
Ronan stood beside her, similarly disheveled. Dirt streaked his face, and there was a gash on his arm that had been bandaged hastily. Tobias was there as well, leaning against the wall, his clothes rumpled and stained.
They all looked like they had just come from a fight.
Except Lysander, Eldric, and Mary.
Sophia stared at Brynhild, Ronan, and Tobias.
"Um guys... what happened?" she asked.
