Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 172: All But One

Laesh’s tragic death had shaken everyone to their core. The unexpected cruelty of the guards, who had broken their unspoken promise and killed the boy so close to reaching freedom, left a bitter scar on their hearts. It wasn’t just Laesh who had fallen that day; with the sickening sound of his small body hitting the ground, their fragile dreams had been crushed as well.

That faint glimmer of hope—the one they had all clung to so desperately—was now completely gone.

The ropes that once symbolized freedom now dangled emptily above their heads. No one touched them anymore, and no one dared to look up. The will to fight had been extinguished in all of them.

All but one.

"Why are you still training?" Tayiid asked, leaning heavily against the rough stone wall. He held out a slice of bread to Rhaegar, who snatched it greedily and devoured it in seconds. Hours of relentless training since early morning had left him utterly drained, and only now, as he took a break, did he realize just how starving he was. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"I can’t let Laesh’s sacrifice be in vain," Rhaegar replied firmly, accepting another slice from Tayiid’s large, calloused hand. "His death made me realize something: dreaming has to be done in silence. You can’t announce it to the world. I have a plan, you know."

Tayiid let out a weary sigh, a sound heavy with the weight of years spent in the pit. "Sometimes I envy you brats. I keep asking myself: How did I lose that hope so quickly? Maybe it’s because I was never really ready to fight for it. Maybe I was prepared to give up from the very start."

Rhaegar looked up at him, surprised by the admission, but Tayiid quickly dismissed the moment with a shake of his head.

"I’m leaving soon," he continued, his voice quieter now. "They’re finally taking me out."

"What?!" Rhaegar nearly choked on his bread, his voice sharp with disbelief. "How do you know?"

Deep down, he had known this moment would come. It had been two years since he was thrown into this wretched pit, and by now, Tayiid was seventeen—the age when a werewolf’s first shift became inevitable. What was bizarre, almost miraculous, was how the guards had managed to keep Tayiid from shifting for so long.

"They told me while you were asleep," Tayiid explained. "No one will see me leave, but I thought you should know before it happens."

"No one will see?" Rhaegar frowned, his mind racing with questions. "How does it work?"

Now that he thought about it, he had never actually seen anyone leave the pit. Even after two years of living in this grim place, he had yet to witness a single soul taken out. Tayiid was the oldest among them, but there had also been no new slaves added to their numbers. The pit’s population remained eerily static.

"Girls," Tayiid said, as if he could sense the direction of Rhaegar’s thoughts. "I heard the guards talking the last time. My hearing’s sharper now that I’m about to shift. Most of the new slaves they capture are girls. The last two boys they brought to Erelith didn’t survive the cages."

A fresh wave of anger surged through Rhaegar’s chest, tightening his fists at his sides. Tayiid let out a quiet sigh, then reached out to ruffle Rhaegar’s hair as if he were some kind of fuming puppy.

"They put something in the food. It knocks us out. That’s what happened when they brought you here. And it’ll be the same when they come to retrieve me."

"I see..."

It made sense, Rhaegar thought to himself. After all, the humans must still fear the slaves. They were young and relatively weak, but in the end, they were not human.

"I will help you," Tayiid said suddenly, his tone and expression shifting so drastically that Rhaegar flinched. The older boy’s usual calm and reserved demeanor twisted into something darker, brimming with malice and fury.

"What do you mean?" Rhaegar asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"They’ll come to take me in two days," Tayiid explained in a low voice. "Don’t eat the food they bring us that evening. When the time comes, pretend you’re asleep like everyone else. The guards don’t risk coming down here, so they’ll lower a long, sturdy rope for me to tie around my waist. Once I’m out... I’ll kill the guards stationed near the pit and let you escape."

Rhaegar’s eyes widened, his heart pounding like a wild, galloping horse. Tayiid’s plan sounded absolutely insane. It was reckless, almost suicidal. Yet, deep inside, Rhaegar found himself clinging to the idea with everything he had.

"But how will you do it? It’s way too dangerous!"

"It is dangerous," Tayiid admitted, his sharp gaze darting toward the other slaves wandering aimlessly around the pit. "That’s why I’m only involving you. If we fail, at least no one else will get hurt."

Rhaegar fell silent, his mind racing. Tayiid’s words, though bold and audacious, carried a twisted sort of logic. If they were going to risk something this perilous, it was better to keep the others ignorant.

"How will you kill them?" Rhaegar asked after a long pause, his voice quiet but filled with concern. "They have knives... and axes."

Tayiid turned around and began digging through the sand near the wall, his movements deliberate and precise. After a moment, he straightened up and turned to face Rhaegar, holding something in his hand. It was a blade, handcrafted from dried leaves.

"Tharahan tree leaves," he explained in a low voice. "Humans don’t know this, but these leaves can be used for more than plates and bowls. Because of their elastic nature, they can bend and hold their shape. But if you let them dry for several years without touching them, they gain the density of rusty metal and can become just as sharp."

Rhaegar’s eyes widened with fascination as he inspected the crude yet dangerous weapon.

Cara had once told him about the unique properties of Tharahan leaves, but he had dismissed her teachings as irrelevant at the time. He’d never imagined needing them for survival. Yet here was Tayiid, who had spent years gathering and carefully crafting the leaves into a weapon—a testament to his patience, ingenuity, and leadership.

Still, even with Tayiid’s ingenuity, doubt gnawed at Rhaegar’s resolve. The enormity of the plan made his chest tighten.

"It’s only been two years," Rhaegar murmured, his voice barely audible. "I’m not sure I’m ready to climb yet."

"You have to," Tayiid said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is your only chance. I’ve seen you climb before—if anyone can make it out of this pit, it’s you."

Rhaegar felt heat rise to his face at Tayiid’s words. The older boy’s unwavering belief in him was both humbling and overwhelming. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of pride. Tayiid wasn’t entirely wrong—he was a skilled climber now. But confidence had always been his greatest obstacle.

If he truly believed in his strength, he might have already reached the top by now.

"So?" Tayiid’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharper now, more commanding. "Are you in?"

Rhaegar hesitated for only a moment, searching Tayiid’s face for any trace of doubt. There was none. The older boy’s confidence was unshakable.

It left Rhaegar no room for hesitation.

He nodded firmly, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves within him. "I’m in."