Chapter 4
Lilith
Pain throbbed in my head as I slowly fluttered my eyes open to a blinding white room. I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to keep them open. When I reopened them, I blinked a few times, scanning the room I was in. The room was white from the ceiling to the walls. It had long transparent windows that displayed an endless corridor.
I groaned. My body ached with soreness. Where am I?
The memory of the blue-eyed Lycan King flashed through my head. I recalled entering the room and attacking him. I remembered practically killing him just when the Prince arrived, and I was knocked unconscious.
My throat was dry and parched. I was aware that I had gone several days without food, though witches can survive longer before they start to wither away.
The black gown was gone, and in its place, I was dressed in a white gown. After a deep breath, I rose to my feet, but something hard pulled me down. My lips curled downward as I caught sight of the hard metal enclosed around my wrist to the armchair. I tried again, but the metal didn't shift.
Taking another breath, I summoned my magic into my hands, but nothing happened. It was as if it didn't exist.
My eyes widened. Did he somehow find a way to deprive me of my magic? I tried over and over again, groaning when I didn't feel any drop of magic.
After some time, I settled back, contemplating a different plan to get out of here. I thought of Morgan feeling disappointed when I didn't return. She would conclude I was dead and prepare Scarlett as her heir. At the image of Scarlett sitting on the Blackheart throne with a crown on her head, I let out a scream in anger.
A knock on the glass drew my attention to the Lycan King, Maverick, standing there. He tilted his head, observing me through the transparent glass.
"You should save your energy for what's coming." His voice echoed in the transparent room.
"Where the fuck am I?!" I gritted my teeth.
"In your prison room," he said calmly. "You have been isolated from the rest of the world."
With his dark mask gone, I took in his appearance. I hadn't encountered him this close before—only from magazines and phones.
His short hair looked even shorter now. Dressed in a black suit, with hands tucked in his pockets, he regarded me with disgust. His tanned skin glowed golden when the bright light hit him. His jawline and cheekbones were hard and honed as if they could cut through anything. His lips were small and straight, and he had a narrow, hawkish nose. I could see his muscles through the suit. He had a strong, powerful build.
It didn't matter how beautiful he looked—I still despised him. He was still the Lycan hunting witches.
"My prison room?" I glared at him. "Wait till I escape and kill you."
"Do you even know who you're talking to?" a voice spoke up, and I caught a tall Lycan dressed in a white shirt and black pants approaching. He had dark skin and very short hair.
I smirked. "Of course I do," I said. "He is Maverick Malraux, King of Lycans."
The dark male frowned. "You knew who he was, yet you still attacked him?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I was bored."
He raised a brow.
I pressed my head forward. "Ask your King who's burned and killed thousands of my kind. Why do you seem surprised that I would attack him?"
"Because every witch who committed the same mistake didn't survive," he said. "You'll be dead soon once we're done with you. Enjoy your time while you can."
I scoffed. "I do not fear death like other witches. Real witches aren't afraid of death. We embrace it like a second life."
"And if you kill me, it would be after your King is dead," I continued. "That is if you can."
"Enough!" Maverick's voice boomed across the room, causing me to lean back.
Approaching footsteps had me turning my head to find more than five Lycans approaching. Some held notebooks and pens, while the others held iPads. They stared at me with narrowed eyes—the same look of disgust. I began to imagine striking the look from their faces as I gave them a slow, painful death.
The first female—tall, with long black hair, regarded the King with a nod before murmuring something I didn't grasp.
"Davina," he called her name before turning to the rest. "Let us commence."
Commence what? Were they referring to me?
Before I could voice my thoughts, I felt something enclose my leg. I looked down to discover a black device around my ankles. I frowned, trying to push it away, but it was solid. Did he mean to kill me with this?
"If you wanted me dead, you could've just lit me up. Isn't that what you Lycans and Werewolves do?" I sneered.
One of the females stepped back. Good. I relished when they feared me. They needed to be scared of me—but now, powerless, I was nothing but a pathetic human. Death was probably better than having no magic.
"What did you do to me?" I asked. "Where is my magic?"
"Those cuffs suppress your magic for as long as you wear them," Maverick answered. "Those monitors around your legs will beep the moment they perceive a lie from you. They can also serve as a device for torturing you."
I lowered my head, curls hanging over my face as deceptive tears poured from my eyes.
"Do not be deceived," Maverick said. "Witches are cunning creatures, and they use their tears to gain pity."
At his words, a slow, dry laugh unfurled from my throat. "What do you plan to do with me?"
"We need information from you."
My brows furrowed, pondering what information they needed.
"Once upon a time, when the war between our kinds arose, witches assembled to form a kingdom of their own. Where is that kingdom now?"
When Blackheart was created, it was concealed from the outside world. Only witches had access to that place, and it required our blood for it to be revealed. To the general public, it was just a forest.
"A kingdom?" I scoffed. "Have you disregarded the fact that your kind exiled and dispersed us all over your world? We have no place to call home because of what you did."
A burning pain, worse than fire, gnawed at my legs, spreading all through my body. I screamed, tilting my head as the pain consumed me.
"Wrong answer," Davina said. "You really do prefer the hard way, don't you?"
"I am no stranger to punishment. I have been tortured and scarred since my first breath," I said. "What makes you think your little device can bend me?"
"Where is your little kingdom?" Davina pressed. "Blackheart—is that not what it's called?"
"How many of you are there?"
I turned to the male who spoke.
"We are only five," I answered.
The device beeped red, and a hot pain blasted through me. Every inch of my body felt as if hot, burning liquid were poured over it. I grunted.
"You know, when witches created Werewolves and Lycans many years ago, we didn't believe you'd end up this arrogant."
"Witches didn't create us," Davina snapped sharply. "Everyone is aware that we were created by the Moon Goddess."
I laughed. "An object that doesn't speak or have any power—only gives light. Is that what you call your goddess?"
Another pain hit me, and I groaned.
"You do not speak ill of our goddess here."
"Or what would happen?"
Maverick moved closer. "Who is the ruler of Blackheart? Who is your Queen?"
I hissed.
"Are you not going to speak?"
"Is this how you torture the witches you capture before killing them?"
Maverick turned to Davina, whispering something to her. She nodded, taking a step forward as she lifted the iPad. I caught a glimpse of Scarlett on the device.
"You see, everyone has a weakness, and I believe that you, Lilith Blackheart, have a weakness too." His Lycan accent was thick.
"How do you know my name?" I asked.
"When you were asleep, we did an investigation on you."
I smirked. "I guess I've been popular around your kind."
"We believe this is your sister, considering the resemblance you both bear," Maverick said. "Now, if you don't start answering our questions, you know what's going to happen to her?"
I chuckled dryly. "Are you going to kill her?"
Maverick stared at me in silence. His face was rock solid.
"Go ahead and kill her." I smiled. "You have no idea how grateful I'll be if you help me kill that bitch. She's just an obstacle to me. Do this for me, and I might answer a few questions."
Darkness clouded the edges of my vision, and for a moment, I thought I was going to die.
"Where is your Witch Kingdom?!" Maverick roared.
My head fell back in exhaustion. "You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" He frowned.
"That witches are forbidden from saying a word about our world. When we reach a certain age, we take a blood oath and swear that the day we confess Blackheart's location is the day our suffering begins. If that's the only thing keeping me alive, then you'd better kill me now."
"What suffering?"
I stared at him like he was a brick wall. Even as they asked me question after question, I stared at them, even when pain lanced through my every being. After another hour of silence, pain, and exhaustion consumed my whole body, knocking me unconscious.