Prey Of The Lycan Queen Chapter 29


    ~Zirah~


    The drive is mostly silent; both Zeke and I are gued with thoughts we don''t feel the need to share.


    Yet as we reach arge stretch, I can see the huge looming walls forming a perimeter around his


    kingdom, tall as skyscrapers. I crane my neck to peer up at the guard standing atop with watchful eyes.


    The gates of Regan’s kingdom open before us like the jaws of a mechanical beast, revealing a


    cityscape that looks more like a meticulously designed movie set than an actual city.


    As we drive through, a futuristic fortress emerges from the depths of a thick shroud of silence. The


    buildings, all towering, angr structures of steel and ss, glint in the afternoon sun, their austere


    silhouettes painting a grim backdrop against the cloudless sky. Not a soul is visible on the pristine


    streets, not a whisper of life resonates in the air as we drive through the first half of the city. It''s an eerie


    stillness, the kind that makes your skin crawl and mind churn.


    People, seemingly sucked out of their mundane routines, scurry into the safety of their homes and


    shops as the limo glides along. Their faces betray their fear, like deer caught in the headlights, each


    movement painstaking and cautious.


    I notice litter is absent, no graffiti, no decoration of any sort, instead reced by vignt armed guards


    stationed at nearly every corner, their stern gazes scanning the city. Even the children here are quiet,


    their innocentughter swallowed by the city''s overwhelming tension.


    As I absorb the unsettling surroundings, a soft humming draws my attention to the sky. Drones, a


    dozen of them, zipping around in coordinated formations. The first thing that hits me about the city isn''t


    the eerie silence, or the palpable fear that seems to hang over the ce like a shroud.


    It''s the eyes, the haunted, lifeless eyes of the city''s residents. "This ce…it''s a damn prison," I mutter,


    scanning the fearful faces peering out from the modern buildings.


    "Yeah, a futuristic one at that," Zeke answers from beside me. I sense a note of guilt in his voice, and a


    hint of resignation.


    "Why all the security?" I question, gesturing at the drones hovering ominously above us. "What are


    those things for?" I ask Zeke, my eyes tracking the drones.


    "Cameras, they monitor the city," he says, his voice tinged with unease, his usual vibrancy reced by


    an unnerving quietness as I take in the kingdom. I blink, taken aback by the dystopian extent of


    security. "They…they keep the peace." Zeke adds.


    "Peace?" I scoff, letting out a bitterugh. "This isn''t peace, Zeke, it''s terror."


    Approaching the city center, I lower the window, a part of me hoping that the soft rustle of the breeze or


    the distant chatter of the city will rece the oppressive silence. Instead, the quiet intensifies, as if the


    city itself holds its breath. It''s too quiet, too sterile, too controlled. Yet as we drive deeper, we notice


    people running away from the city center. Zeke sits up and in the distance; I can hear the sounds of


    shouting, crying, and begging. I nce at Zeke, who moves closer to peer out the window.


    A suddenmotion breaks out, drawing my attention to a frightened woman pleading with a market


    stallholder. A child, presumably her son, clings to her skirt, tears streaming down his face.


    The stallholder, a red-faced and fuming man, motioned wildly toward the woman and a young boy. The


    woman pleads with the stallholder, her words drowned by her son''s terrified wails. Her flustered


    attempts to calm the situation are met with armed guards storming toward her.


    "Guard, she is refusing to pay for what her son broke!" the man yells, waving the armed guards


    forward.


    Catching the sight of a shattered pot at her feet, I gasp. All this racket for a broken pot?


    Without a word, Zeke opens the door and leaps out, his aura of authority evident even from this


    distance. The entire ce falls silent as he steps out of the car, straightening his suit, before he leans


    back in and snatches his wallet from beside me. "Stay in the car," he tells me, shutting the door.


    Zeke springs into action, snapping at the stall owner and arguing with the guards. He’smanding,


    authoritative, but the fear in the air makes me ufortable.


    "Selfish bastard!" he barks at the stallholder, tossing a wad of cash at him. However, the guards don''t


    release the woman at hismand, but their grip on her loosens.


    I step out of the car and instantly, the city''s gaze fixates on me. Drones zoom in, their lenses trained on


    me, their humming intensifying like a swarm of angry bees. This is a city under surveince, people


    living in the shadows of fear, every move monitored, every action ounted for. It doesn’t sit right with


    me. My own magic res in response, a primal instinct to protect and defend. My hands tremble, my


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    skin tingling with stored energy.


    "No more," I demand. All eyes are on me, the city’s quiet fear reced by shocked whispers. Zeke


    protests, but I''m past caring. "Zirah, get back in the car," he snarls at me, ncing nervously toward the


    sky.


    As I draw closer, I take in the guards: sturdy men d in ominous ck, with hard lines etching their


    faces and cold gazes that seem to pierce through the soul. They argue with Zeke, one of them pulling


    out a phone, presumably to consult their king. Over a broken pot?


    Yet, instinct kicks in as I witness the woman clinging onto Zeke, pleading for mercy. I can''t stand there,


    watching this injustice unfold. My fingers twitch, the magical energy within me ring up.


    "Causo Frango!" I mutter under my breath, directing my energy towards the guard''s phone. It flies out


    of his hand, hitting the ground, and melting into a molten mess. Gasps ring out audibly, while the guard


    hisses, staring at his hand.


    The drones swarm around me, their electronic eyes shing menacingly.


    "Zirah, don''t fucking move!" Zeke''s voice reaches my ears just as a pronged wire flies towards me from


    a drone. An electric shock jolts through me, making me crumble to my knees, every nerve in my body


    screaming in protest. The sensation of a thousand needles pricking my skin overpowers me, and I''m


    left gasping for breath and absolutely livid. The electric current dies out as the drones continue to circle


    me, beeping and shing in warning.


    With a grunt, I rip the prong out of my shoulder. Anger reces the pain, electricity crackling between


    my fingers. My re fixes on the machine that attacked me. As the drones spin to focus on Zeke, I


    channel my anger.“Zirah, don’t…!” Zeke yells.


    The warninges toote. I throw out my hand, sending a pulse of magic at the nearest drone.


    Sparks fly as it crashes to the ground, smoke billowing from its wreckage. I continue, targeting each


    drone one after the other until all seven lie damaged on the ground. Yet the moment I take those out,


    more rece them.