Chapter no 5 – 6

Chapter on 5

As Feyre trudged toward the looming forest, dread weighed her every step, knowing she was leaving behind her family and stepping into an uncertain, perilous future. At the edge of the trees, a white mare waited—a stark contrast to the darkness that beckoned. The beast motioned for her to mount, and though she hadn’t ridden in years, the horse’s warmth against the cold offered fleeting comfort. They headed north, toward Prythian, where her life as a mortal would no longer be her own. Though the beast promised she would live, Feyre couldn’t shake the fear of what form that “life” might take.

Riding through the snow-shrouded forest, Feyre’s mind raced with thoughts of survival. She recalled the ancient knowledge of the faeries’ weakness to ash and iron but knew her options were grim after the beast destroyed her ash arrow. Though she resolved to keep watch for vulnerabilities, the creature’s immense strength and power were undeniable. Memories of legends and warnings about Prythian—its High Lords, their unimaginable might, and their appetite for destruction—echoed in her mind, heightening her terror of what awaited beyond the wall.

Feyre’s thoughts oscillated between fury and guilt. She considered how her family might suffer without her, envisioning her father begging in the streets and Nesta resorting to desperate measures to protect Elain. Despite her fear, she clung to defiance, even questioning the beast about his identity. Yet, he offered no answers, dismissing her questions with growls and silence. Feyre resolved to escape or fight if the opportunity arose, though deep down, she knew the odds were stacked against her.

As exhaustion and dread consumed her, a strange, metallic tang filled the air, and Feyre was suddenly overcome by an enchanted sleep. She awoke hours—possibly days—later, bound by invisible magic atop the horse. Anger simmered as she realized the beast had used his power to render her unconscious, sparing himself the trouble of dealing with her protests. The vibrant surroundings of chirping birds and a gentle breeze clashed with her mounting fear as they approached a hedge-bordered metal gate.

The gate swung open without a guard in sight, marking the threshold of Prythian. Feyre couldn’t decide if the place beyond was to be her salvation or her prison. The beast led the way, and though her body remained bound, Feyre’s mind churned with plans to survive, to escape, or even to fight—whatever it took to protect herself in a land where mortals were little more than pawns in a deadly game.

Chapter no 6

Feyre’s journey into Prythian led her to an opulent estate sprawling over lush, green land—grand and elegant beyond anything she had ever seen. The alabaster mansion, adorned with roses, ivy, and intricate balconies, stood in stark contrast to her family’s meager cottage. Yet, the silence surrounding the estate was unnerving, making the grandeur feel more like a trap. As she reluctantly entered the estate, she found herself surrounded by luxury, with marble floors, towering glass doors, and gardens that seemed almost magical. Despite the beauty, she remained on edge, fully aware that she was a prisoner in an unknown and dangerous realm.

Inside, she encountered a dining hall laden with a lavish feast—ordinary food that could have come from any mortal manor. However, Feyre resisted the temptation to eat, remembering the old warnings that consuming faerie food could enslave her mind and soul. The beast, now transformed into a golden-haired High Fae male, commanded her to eat but dismissed her refusal with a growl. His masked companion, a red-haired High Fae named Lucien, entered shortly after, openly mocking Feyre for killing their friend, Andras. The tension in the room was palpable as the two fae discussed her presence, revealing that her captor’s decision to spare her was both a mercy and a burden.

Feyre’s unease deepened as she was led away by Alis, a masked servant, to a luxurious bedroom that dwarfed her entire cottage back home. Though treated with surprising kindness—bathed, dressed, and groomed—Feyre remained wary, knowing that she was still at the mercy of the High Fae. Alis warned her to keep her head down and her wits about her, as not all within the estate would welcome her presence. Feyre’s thoughts oscillated between fear of her captors and frustration over her powerlessness, her mind racing with plans for survival and escape.

The lavish surroundings of the bedroom, with its golden walls, silk curtains, and exquisite furnishings, only served to heighten Feyre’s discomfort. The wealth and beauty around her felt like a cruel reminder of her family’s dire circumstances and the hunger they must already be enduring without her. Alis’s practical kindness and candid advice offered Feyre some small comfort, but the servant’s words confirmed that Feyre’s position in Prythian was precarious, and the resentment of those around her could turn dangerous.

Despite her determination to escape, Feyre understood that she needed to tread carefully. The estate’s overwhelming grandeur and its enigmatic inhabitants hinted at a world far beyond her understanding. Yet, as she sat in the gilded prison, Feyre steeled herself to face whatever awaited her in Prythian, knowing she had to survive—for herself, for her family, and for the faint hope of one day finding freedom.