Chapter 18: Whispers in the Dungeon

The cell was cold, the dampness of the stone creeping into Theo’s bones, but it was the hunger that gnawed at him most. It clawed at him slowly, relentlessly, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave his mind. His body throbbed with the aftermath of Lucian's torment, but the hunger kept all other sensations at bay.

He allowed his thoughts to drift and the memory of his sister came into focus.

Isabell.

Her face haunted him—bruised, trembling, and full of quiet torment. He could still see the way her hands shook as she obeyed Lucian’s orders, each lash falling with a precision that only made it more unbearable. The pain had been sharp, brutal, but what lingered wasn’t the blows—it was the agony in her eyes. She had wept silently as she lashed him, her face twisted in anguish. It wasn’t just the sight of her suffering—it was knowing that she had been forced into it, that the sister he had once known was trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

He had failed her.

He had failed Elena too.

That’s what his life was. A string of failures.

The door to his cell creaked open, pulling Theo from his thoughts. His body tensed, though he was too weary to fight back, even if he wanted to. The familiar figure of Celeste slipped inside, her heavy-lidded eyes gleaming in the low light. She moved with predatory grace, every movement calculated, every step deliberate.

“Well, look who’s still in one piece,” Celeste purred, her voice carrying an edge of amusement.

Theo remained silent, his dark eyes heavy with exhaustion and annoyance. He didn’t have the strength or the patience for whatever game she was about to play.

Celeste crouched down beside him, tilting her head as if trying to puzzle him out. “Where did she go, Theo?”

He barely reacted. The question was expected, but that didn’t stop the flicker of concern deep in his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Celeste’s smile widened, but it was cold, sharp—no real warmth behind it. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Elena. Where did she run to?”

Her name hit him harder than he cared to admit, but Theo’s face remained blank, betraying nothing. He wouldn’t give Celeste the satisfaction of knowing how much that simple question unsettled him. How much the uncertainty perturbed him.

“I don’t know. We didn’t exactly part on good terms,” Theo said, his voice hoarse but steady. “And,” He gestured vaguely at the damp walls of the cell. “ in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little... tied up.” His sarcasm dripped heavily as he leaned back against the cold stone, offering her a tired but pointed look.

Celeste’s smile faltered for a moment, her eyes narrowing. She stood, straightening herself with that same unsettling grace. “Careful, Theo. You’re already on thin ice.”

Theo rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, uncaring.

Celeste’s lips curved again, this time a dangerous edge in her smile. She took a step closer, her voice low and threatening. “Lucian wants her. You’re not going to keep her hidden forever.”

“I already told you,” Theo said, his tone sharp now, “I don’t know where she went.”

Celeste paused, her predatory gaze sweeping over him, taking in his haggard form with a slow, deliberate smirk. The silence stretched out as she studied him, eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey. Her smile widened.

“Ah,” she purred, her voice low and venomous, “but you wish you did, don’t you?” She took a step closer, crouching down so that her face was level with his. “I can smell it. The worry... the fear.” Her breath ghosted across his skin, chilling in the damp, cold cell. “She’s gotten under your skin, hasn’t she? That little human. You’re afraid for her.”

Theo’s jaw tightened, refusing to give her the satisfaction. His face remained impassive, but the tightening in his chest betrayed him. It was enough for Celeste to pounce on, her smirk widening as she leaned in further, voice a twisted whisper.

“I wonder what Lucian will do to her once he finds her. What kind of fun he’ll have.”

His fists curled, anger flaring hot and sharp inside him, but he didn’t move. His face remained a mask of stone.

“Fuck off, Celeste,” he growled, his voice hoarse and low.

Celeste chuckled darkly, savoring his reaction as she straightened up. “You’ll crack eventually.”

With one last glance, she turned and swept out of the cell, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving Theo alone with the suffocating weight of her words—and the gnawing, relentless fear for Elena’s safety.

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The thought of Lucian finding her, of what he might do if she fell into his grasp, twisted in Theo’s gut like a knife.

XXX

Theo’s senses had dulled in the cell, the passage of time a blur of hunger and pain. The cold seeped into his bones, and he wasn’t sure if it was the lack of blood or the weight of Lucian’s torment that made his head so heavy. Every time he drifted into a restless half-sleep, the memories of Elena and Isabell haunted him.

Suddenly, the faint sound of the door creaking open pulled him from his haze. Theo’s head snapped up. His vision, blurry at first, focused on the figure slipping into the room. He thought it might have been Celeste returning for another round of questioning but it wasn’t.

It was Isabell.

Theo blinked, confused. “Isabell?” His voice cracked from disuse, disbelief, and concern intertwining in his tone. “You… shouldn’t be here.”

“Do not speak,” Isabell hissed as she crossed the room and knelt beside him. He could see a cold determination in her eyes, the shadow of a bruise still visible on her cheek where Lucian had struck her.

“Lucian is gone for now, but I don’t have much time. Here, take this.” She thrust a small flask into his hands as she looked around, wary.

Theo didn’t need to ask what it was. He unscrewed the top and drank greedily.

The relief that washed over him was almost enough to bring him to tears. For one blissful moment, the coldness of the cell retreated as he became lost in the sensation of that warm, sweet liquid sliding down his throat.

Isabell’s hushed voice brought him back to reality.

“I’m going to get you out of here. I’ve reached out to Arthur, and we’re working on a plan.”

Theo paused, the flask halfway to his lips. He lowered it slowly, a bitter taste in his mouth. “Arthur?”

Isabell glanced at him sharply. “Yes, Arthur.”

Theo let out a breath, his jaw tightening. The thought of Arthur swooping in to “save” him was enough to stoke the old resentment buried deep inside. He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “ Thanks but I'm not interested in his generosity.”

Isabell’s eyes flashed. “Theo, this is not the time for your pride.”

“It’s not pride,” he snapped, his voice low and raw. “Arthur left me to rot when I went after Lucian. When I begged him to help me rescue you. And now you expect me to trust him?”

Isabell’s expression softened, though her gaze remained hard. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t wrestled with the same anger? But right now, Arthur is the only one who has the resources to pull this off.”

Theo looked away, grinding his teeth. He had sworn never to rely on Arthur like this. The idea that Arthur had his fate in his hands—again—was a bitter pill to swallow.

Sensing his resistance, Isabell leaned in closer, her voice softer but unyielding. “This isn’t just about you, Theo. Arthur is doing this because he knows he will need all the help he can get with the artifact. And whether you like it or not, you need him now. We need him.”

Theo clenched his fists, the tension in his body refusing to release. He didn’t want to admit that she was right. He didn’t want to acknowledge how deep Arthur’s reach was or how crucial it was to get out of Lucian’s grasp before things got worse.

Still, the resentment festered. “I still don’t like this,” Theo said.

“You don’t have to like it,” Isabell said coldly. “But you do need to work with him. Do you really think I want to rely on anyone? You think I haven’t learned that lesson by now?” She paused, her voice lowering slightly. “Lucian has taken a liking to... keeping me close lately.” The words lingered, a slight catch in her voice, but her composure didn’t break. “It’s given me access to conversations he doesn’t think I hear. I know more than he realizes.”

Theo’s stomach twisted. He didn’t need to ask what she meant. The implications were enough to churn his insides. He tightened his grip on the flask, his knuckles pale.

Isabell met his gaze steadily. “I’ve been spying on him, Theo. He’s after the artifact because he thinks it has power. Real power. He’s been talking about overthrowing the council, maybe even more. If he gets it…”

Theo’s eyes narrowed. “Arthur believes the artifact is for redemp—”

“Stop.” Isabell cut him off sharply. “Don’t tell me anything more. Lucian will force it out of me if I know.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Arthur and I have been working on a plan to get you out of here. That’s all you need to know.”

Theo frowned, worry taking root in his chest. “And what will Lucian do to you if this plan succeeds?”

“What more can he possibly do?” She gave a hollow, bitter laugh. “Maybe if he sees me as a liability, he’ll finally let me die.”

“No.” Theo’s voice was rough, raw. “You can’t give up like that.”

Isabell’s eyes narrowed, her voice clipped but steady. “Spare me the sermon, Theo. I didn’t come here to debate my fate. This is about getting you out and making sure Lucian doesn’t gain more power.”

Her face was hard, set in a cold mask of determination that left no room for pity. Theo opened his mouth to protest, but the words stuck in his throat. Her tone, her expression—it wasn’t just resignation, it was acceptance. A bitter, unwavering acceptance of what her life had become.

Theo’s chest tightened as old memories crept in. He knew her pain. He had experienced it once though mercifully for only a short time but Isabell’s torment was ongoing. There was no end in sight for her.

And now, looking at her, he realized she had already made her peace with it in a way he had never been able to.

The weight of it hit him hard. There was no saving her—not in the way he had hoped. The sister he had once known was buried deep, held captive by the same chains that had bound him.

“I...” he started, but the words faltered, useless in the face of her cold resolve.

She stood, her face set in that same determined mask. “I’ll be back when the time is right. Just... hold on.”

Theo watched as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone with the weight of everything unsaid. Arthur, Lucian, Elena, the artifact, and Isabell’s fate—all tangled together, pushing him toward a breaking point.

And for the first time, Theo didn’t know if he was strong enough to face what was coming.