Free Web NovelChapter 412: Chapter 412
The sudden appearance of the fog did not deter Ragnar and the rest of the group. Not even the violent tremors that shook the cave to its very foundations were enough to stop them. They could not stop, not when Circe and the captives were still trapped somewhere within its depths.
After what felt like hours of traversing through narrow tunnels with barely any visibility, the suffocating fog that filled the passageways slowly began to dissipate. It thinned, revealing a path ahead. Not long after, they emerged into a vast, hollowed chamber. The space stretched wide and high, its darkness broken only by the faint glisten of moisture clinging to the walls.
The rhythmic sound of dripping water echoed throughout, each drop reverberating like a distant heartbeat.
Ragnar was the first to step inside and a prickle of awareness crawled up the back of his neck. It was subtle at first, an instinct honed by years of battle and survival.
Something was wrong.
He lifted his gaze. And there, above him and the rest of the group, were bodies.
Dozens—no, over a hundred—hung suspended from the ceiling, encased in transparent pods. They looked like grotesque marionettes, strung up and displayed by an unseen puppeteer. Limbs hung limp at unnatural angles, their forms eerily still. Not a single body so much as twitched.
Slowly, the rest of the group followed Ragnar’s line of sight, their heads tilting upward as the horrifying sight revealed itself fully.
Men. Women. Children. There were no exceptions. No mercy in the selection of those who had been taken and imprisoned here.
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the group as the weight of what they were seeing sank in. It was a horrific thing to witness and an even worse fate to endure. There were no words that could do justice to such a sight, no thoughts that could fully grasp what these people must have suffered to be left in such a state.
Ragnar was the first to look away and jump into action. Shadows began to spill from him, seeping out like spilled ink. They spread rapidly across the cavern floor before rising upward in long, twisting tendrils. One by one, the shadows reached the suspended pods, curling around them with deliberate care before tightening their hold. Then, slowly, they began to pull.
The pods descended from the ceiling, lowered to the ground gently. One after another, they were brought down until the ground was littered with them.
Once they were all within reach, Ragnar stepped toward the nearest one. His hand instinctively went to the sword at his hip, fingers curling around the hilt. With a smooth motion, he drew the blade from its scabbard.
He drove the sword forward. The blade struck the pod precisely, cracking its surface just enough to weaken it without harming the person inside. Fine fractures spread across the transparent shell like a spiderweb.
It took several careful attempts but eventually, the pod gave way. With a sharp crack, it split open.
The woman inside collapsed forward, a ragged gasp tearing from her throat as she dragged in her first breath of air. Her chest heaved violently, her body trembling as Ragnar caught her before she could hit the ground completely.
"Easy," he murmured, steadying her.
Seeing this, the rest of the group sprang into action, moving quickly to free the others. The chamber soon filled with the sounds of cracking pods, and labored breathing. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
But not all of them could be saved. Unlike the woman Ragnar had freed, some of the bodies that were pulled from the pods remained utterly still. Lifeless.
It became painfully clear that the pods had not only been prisons but instruments meant to slowly kill them.
Nearly a third of the captives they uncovered were already gone. Each lifeless body that was laid upon the ground struck Ragnar like a physical blow. A quiet anguish settled deep within him. But even that was nothing compared to the sudden, excruciating pain that suddenly lanced through his chest.
Ragnar stumbled back, a sharp breath tearing from his lungs as his hand flew to his chest as he gritted his teeth, trying to endure the overwhelming sensation.
This wasn’t his pain, he knew that instinctively. It belonged to Circe.
Something was happening to her. His thoughts spiraled instantly, racing with fear and desperation. If he could only feel a fraction of what she was experiencing through their bond, then whatever she was enduring... it had to be unbearable.
A few members of the group turned toward him, concern etched across their faces. Some even moved closer, reaching out as they noticed the strain in his expression.
"Your Highness?" One of them asked.
"I’m fine," Ragnar forced out, waving them away despite the tension in his voice. "Keep going. Help them."
Reluctantly, they obeyed, though their worried glances lingered.
The pain eased after only a few minutes, leaving as suddenly and abruptly as it came.
But the relief never truly came. A hollow emptiness spread through his chest, cold and vast. The bond that had once been there only moments ago was gone. Severed.
He had grown so used to the connection that tethered them together, that its absence now felt wrong. Unnatural. Like a piece of him had been torn away, leaving behind a gaping void and there was only one explanation he could think of. Only one reason a bond like theirs would break.
A dull roar filled his ears, drowning out every other sound in the cavern. His heart began to pound violently against his ribs, each beat harder than the last as panic took hold.
No. It couldn’t be. He refused to accept it.
She couldn’t be gone.
She couldn’t be—
"Your Highness, we found the little prince among them. He’s alive." The words reached him as if from a great distance, muffled and distorted beneath the storm raging inside him. Ragnar barely registered them, his mind too consumed by the single, terrifying thought clawing its way through him.
She couldn’t be dead.
He needed to see her. Needed to hold her. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
To hear her voice—anything to prove that she was still alive.
His wife could not be gone. He would not survive that loss. The thought alone threatened to ruin him beyond repair.
As the group began to escort the survivors out of the cave. Most of the survivors were so weak that they needed help walking.
Ragnar did not follow them. Instead, he turned back to move deeper into the cave to search for Circe, even as a part of him feared what he might find.
Just as it had been when they first prepared to enter the cave, the members of the group refused to let Ragnar go alone. Even now, they would not abandon him to the depths by himself. Two men stepped forward without hesitation, choosing to accompany him once more, while the others remained behind to tend to the survivors.
Ragnar did not waste a moment. He surged ahead, moving through one narrow tunnel after another. The air was thick and damp, the twinkling light barely enough to guide his path as shadows clung to the walls. He knew it could take days to search every passage, to comb through every hollow and hidden corner but he didn’t have days. Not when Circe was somewhere in this maze.
An hour passed, though it felt far longer. Each turn led to nothing. No sign of her. No trace. The silence and the very real possibility that she could be dead pressed in around him, and with every passing second, he could feel the edges of his sanity beginning to fray.
Then, he heard soft footsteps ahead.
Ragnar’s head snapped up. He stilled for only a second before quickening his pace, his strides lengthening into something close to a run. Behind him, his two companions struggled to keep up with him.
As he drew closer, voices followed. Feminine voices.
His heart lurched violently in his chest as he strained to listen and then he heard it. Circe’s voice. He would have known it anywhere, even pulled from the depths of sleep. He could pick it out in a din of noise. There was no mistaking it.
He rounded the corner sharply. And there she was.
Circe stood a short distance ahead, her arm slung around another woman, supporting her weight as they moved slowly through the tunnel. Strands of her hair clung to her face, her posture strained.
For a moment, everything else fell away.
Their eyes met and the world seemed to still as a heavy wave of relief crashed through him, so sudden and overwhelming it nearly stole the breath from his lungs. She was alive. That was all that mattered. Not even the shattered remnants of their mating bond. None of it mattered.
She was here and she was safe.
And for the first time since entering the cave, Ragnar could finally breathe, feeling the panic and dread slowly seeped out of him.
