Silent Crown: The Masked Prince's Bride-Chapter 297: Trapped With An Ancient Being

Lorraine turned toward Leroy. He wasn’t even wearing armor, only a torn, blood-soaked linen shirt clinging to his chest, his skin streaked with river water and the residue of battle. And yet, when his gaze swept over the advancing force, his lips curved into that familiar, reckless smirk that she had never seen on him before.

This was her husband, the warrior. It made her both furious and breathless.

"Run, Lorraine," he said, his voice quiet, almost tender beneath the weight of command. His large hand pressed gently against her back, steadying her trembling frame. Then he turned to her, eyes shadowed with something deeper... tenderness laced with guilt. He didn’t want to make her leave, but knew she had to.

He leaned in and pressed a quick, desperate kiss to her lips. "I’ll handle this," he whispered, his breath trembling against her mouth. "Hide for me, will you? I’ll find you."

Lorraine’s throat constricted. She wanted to say no, wanted to beg him not to do this, she did not want to be away from him again, but her voice refused to come.

Can he? Can one man truly stand against an army?

The question had barely formed before the first arrow hissed through the air.

Lorraine gasped.

Leroy moved instantly, his hand leaving her cheek, his back turning toward her, his body a living shield. His sword flashed upward, catching the glint of sunlight as it split the arrow midflight. Another followed. Then another. Each deflected with the grace of a man who had fought death too many times to fear it. His movements were fierce and fluid, a dance between life and the inevitable.

"Run, Mouseling!" he shouted, the word striking through the chaos like thunder.

Lorraine flinched, not at the command but at the sound of his voice, so sharp and alive. She understood. By staying, she was only making it harder for him to protect her. Sometimes, the cruelest kind of love was the kind that ran.

And she had more than herself to protect.

"I’ll be waiting for you," she said. She knew those were the only few words that would bring him back to her. Those words, that feelings she conveyed that he had her waiting for him had always brought him back to her. This time too... although the odds were against him, she hoped those words would bring him back to her.

She clutched her belly, whispering something between a prayer and a promise, and turned to flee. Her boots struck the earth in a rapid, uneven rhythm. The wind whipped her hair against her face, and the world behind her erupted into the metallic chorus of war, with the clash of steel, the thrum of arrows, the guttural shouts of men.

She didn’t dare look back.

Her heart thundered as she reached the steep incline, the peak her baby had guided her toward. The ground grew uneven beneath her feet, slick with moss and thawing snow. She stumbled once, caught herself, breath ragged.

Then her child stirred.

It was sudden, sharp, unlike before. The movement tore through her like a warning. Lorraine stopped, knees buckling. She fell to the ground, her palms digging into the cold soil.

And then, the earth gave way.

The ground crumbled beneath her boots with a crack like splitting bone. Her scream was swallowed by the roar of the collapsing earth as she plunged downward, into darkness, into silence.

Above, the river and the battle raged on. But down below, everything went still.

Except for her shout. For the first time, Lorraine shouted, when her life was in danger. Was it because she was away from the contriats of the capital and the people there? Was she comfortable now, in Leroy’s embrace and care, and also being in the company of the people who even though had nothing, worried more about giving than taking? The ones who showered her with love?

Finally, she could let her voice out, without constraint. The effect of the abuses from her father, completely nullified.

Everything went dark. Lorraine’s body tensed as she instinctively clutched her belly, her only thought: Please, not the baby.

The air rushed past her in a blur of cold and wind. She didn’t know how long she fell, whether it was seconds or centuries, until her back struck something hard, yet strangely soft beneath and she rolled. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs, pain shooting through her ankle as she landed twisted and breathless.

She groaned, biting down on the sound so it wouldn’t echo. For a fall like that, she should’ve been broken, yet somehow, she wasn’t. Her ankle throbbed, but she could still move. Luck... or something else.

The darkness was absolute. Only the faintest shimmer of light from above tried to reach her, trembling like the memory of the sun. Lorraine pressed her palm against her chest, forcing her breathing to steady. Calm. Think.

Then she felt it.

The ground beneath her... shifted.

A faint ripple under her fingers, like something vast and alive was breathing below. Her brows furrowed as she pressed her palm to the rocky floor again. It was warm. Not the chill of stone or damp earth, but warm, almost feverish. The rhythm beneath her palm was unmistakable now. Inhale. Exhale.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. That’s not possible.

She froze, listening. The soft, cavernous sound of air moving, deep, resonant, alive, filled her ears. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes straining against the dark. The ground itself seemed to rise and fall beneath her, each motion too slow, too deliberate to be mere tremors.

Her baby stirred; a flutter inside her, and to her surprise, it steadied her pulse. The panic dulled, replaced by something quieter... reverent, almost. As if her child knew something she didn’t.

She shifted to move, ignoring the pain screaming in her leg, and...

The ground moved again.

Lorraine lost her balance, sliding down a slanted surface, her hands scraping against the scaly texture. She couldn’t stop. The descent went on and on until she landed hard on a flatter surface, her palms sinking into damp, cool soil.

Breathless, she lifted her head. If this was the ground... what in the world had she landed on before?

Her surroundings began to take shape in the faint, uncertain glow seeping from cracks above. The air was warm; unnaturally so, carrying a dry, smoky tang that didn’t belong to any ordinary cave. And though the shadows devoured most of what she could see, one thing stood out.

In the far reaches of the dark — something moved. Massive. Slow. Rhythmic.

The silhouette shifted with every breath, its form blending into the rock until it seemed as though the very mountain was alive.

Lorraine’s throat went dry. She clutched her skirt, her eyes wide. The ground under her trembled softly again, almost like a sigh.

What is in here...?

She didn’t dare move, not yet. All she could do was listen. Watch. And pray that whatever shared this darkness with her hadn’t noticed her fall.

The sound came again, soft at first, like gravel shifting, then deeper, older. A rustle that vibrated through the cavern walls, as if sinew and nerves were waking after a long, unnatural sleep. The air thickened. She could hear it... a low, resonant click beneath the layers of rock, followed by the stretch of something immense.

Wings.

The sound was unmistakable; the sharp, sweeping whisper of air being cleaved apart. Not wind. Not movement. But wings unfurling.

Lorraine’s throat went dry. She clutched her abdomen, trying not to breathe too loudly. Every instinct in her screamed to run, but her ankle throbbed, useless, and her body was trembling so hard she feared it might echo.

It couldn’t be... him.

No. It couldn’t.

That was just a story, a myth whispered in Vaeloria... of this dragon buried beneath the mountains, bound in slumber for centuries.

But the warmth in the air, the pulse beneath the ground, the scent of smoke... it all felt too real.

Her heart pounded painfully. No, no, I can’t linger here. I can’t wake whatever this is.

Her husband was still out there. Bleeding. Fighting. She had no time to indulge the ghosts of lore.

Her ankle burned with every shift, but she pushed herself backward, inch by inch, feeling the ground with her palms. She needed a wall, a direction. Surely, whatever this colossal thing was, it must have come in through something. There had to be an exit.

The air stirred.

A gust brushed her cheek, warm and heavy, carrying the faint metallic tang of ash. She froze.

It’s breathing toward me.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her shaking hand to move. Keep going. Keep going...

The thought of what such a creature might want after waking... food, vengeance, anything... churned her stomach. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

She swallowed hard. "I am not going to be roasted tonight," she muttered under her breath, her whisper half a prayer, half a curse.

And with that, Lorraine kept crawling, one trembling breath at a time, as the ancient thing behind her drew in a slow, seismic breath, the sound of awakening filling the cavern like thunder trapped in stone.

And then, there was light. Blinding light... of fire.