Chapter 152: The Tether of Blood
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The hall was chaos behind them. Screams, orders, footsteps pounding against the underground stone like war drums. But Cyrin Alastor didn’t turn back. He couldn’t.
The Ghosthound Queen’s bloodied body was draped across his arms like a weapon sheathed in flesh. Her hair, long, thick, and matted with crimson, dangled with a life of its own as he carried her rapidly into the secluded wing of the underground.
Varya was beside him, her boots slamming hard against the stone as she struggled to keep up.
They burst into the medical bay, the one they had converted into a lab after Kieran left to get the Ghosthound Queen. The fluorescent lights flickered above them as Cyrin laid the queen onto the reinforced table and immediately strapped her down with thick silver cuffs they’d created specifically for this moment.
She didn’t even look human anymore.
She was regality and horror. Majesty and death.
And she was waking up.
"The blade is melting," Cyrin said, voice tight with urgency as he pulled off his gloves and reached for the tank of wolfsbane they’ve bought
He looked to Varya. "We’re out of time. We haven’t figured it out yet, we don’t know how to stabilize her."
The ECG monitor attached to her chest beeped erratically, a tell-tale sign that the silver keeping her docile was losing its grip. Her claws had already begun to twitch, curling and uncurling. Her lips peeled back into a faint snarl. Her heart rate was rising, far too fast.
Cyrin turned the dial on the wolfsbane tank. The pale greenish-blue liquid began to flow through the tubes like poison through veins, seeping into her bloodstream in steady, rhythmic pulses.