Chapter 46: First to see what a King’s soul feels like.

Chapter 46

“Mother?!”

The dark witch stepped fully into the room, her presence extinguishing the last lingering warmth from the small hearth. The air thinned instantly, turning as cold, as the gray void churning outside the window.

“My sweet, rebellious little bird,” the woman whispered. Her voice was like silk sliding over a blade—lighter, sweeter, and far more terrifying than Clara’s had ever been.

“You always did have such trouble keeping your pets on their leashes.”

Clara’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. She looked frozen in time, her white eyes wide with a soul-crushing recognition.

The powerful, arrogant witch who had spent the evening mocking Isabella was gone, replaced by a trembling girl facing her own creator.

The dark witch turned her head toward Isabella. Even with her eyes hidden beneath the heavy folds of her hood, Isabella felt the weight of a predatory hunger.

The woman’s grin widened, revealing teeth that caught the flickering candlelight in a way that made Isabella’s stomach turn.

“And you…” the woman purred, her head tilting with curiosity. “You are the King’s little abomination, yes? The one he’s so desperate to hide that he’s pinned his very soul to her chest.”

Isabella shook her head frantically, trying to deny it. She watched Clara’s reaction out of the corner of her eye, her mind racing. What the hell was wrong with this family?

First, Clara claimed to be the “mother” of a deranged shadow-hound, and now this hooded nightmare was claiming to be Clara’s?

For the first time in her life, Isabella actually felt a flickering appreciation for her own abusive family. At least they were just wolves.

“I’m not…” Isabella’s voice caught in her throat. She pressed her back so hard against the window frame that the wood bit into her spine. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m nobody. I’m just… nothing.”

“Nothing?” The Mother’s laugh was soft—so soft it felt like a cold finger sliding down Isabella’s neck.

“Child, if you were nothing, the bond between you and the King wouldn’t be screaming so loud I could taste it on my tongue from a mile away.”

Clara didn’t move from her knees, but her white eyes were no longer vacant. They were darting, sharp and calculating, measuring the distance between the Sentinel’s massive paws, the shadow of her mother’s robes, and the jagged shard of wood still clutched in Isabella’s hand.

Calculation began to replace the paralysis. Clara loathed the woman standing before them. It was a bone-deep hatred that had driven her into isolation, hiding in a cabin designed to be invisible to the world.

But the veil had dropped. Without her magic to anchor the concealment charms, Clara was a beacon in the dark—and her desperate mother had finally answered the call.

The Mother’s pale mouth twitched into a smirk as she took another step forward. The Sentinel shifted its weight to stay behind her, its mindless, glowing eyes fixed on Isabella’s throat.

“Clara… dear,” the woman said, her tone mockingly affectionate. “You are so far beneath me that you couldn’t even conceal yourself while performing a simple bond reversal. To think I birthed a witch who unknowingly informed every coven in the territory that the most hated creature in existence finally has a tether.”

Isabella felt the blood drain from her face. Every coven? “You didn’t just fail yourself, Clara,” the Mother continued, her voice dropping to a hiss.

“You invited the world to watch you fail. Now, be a good daughter and step aside. I want to be the first to see what a King’s soul feels like when it’s being torn out of a human ribcage.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Clara said, her voice finally steadying, though it was thin as a wire.

She didn’t look at Isabella; she kept her focus entirely on the hem of the black robes as she stood up from the floor.

“This is Lucian’s territory, remember? You’re trespassing on a Crown’s shadow.”

“Lucian’s territory is currently miles below us, tucked away in a fold of space he cannot touch,” the Mother replied, her pale mouth twitching into a smirk.

“Mother, you shouldn’t tempt him,” Clara said, her voice growing firmer as she stepped into the space between the dark witch and Isabella.

Her eyes flickering to her mother’s covered eyes. “You of all witches know not to try him. You are a living witness of what he does to those who tempt him.” The smirk on the Mother’s mouth dimmed.

For a split second, the air in the room seemed to hold its breath. Even through the heavy hood, Isabella could feel the flicker of hesitation—a brief, sharp memory of the Vampire King’s true power—passing over the dark witch.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come. The Mother’s chin lifted, her pale lips curling back into a sneer of pure arrogance.

“Lucian is a relic,” the woman hissed, her voice losing its sweetness. “A sleeping giant who woke up to find his world has moved on without him. He is blinded by this bond, Clara. He is vulnerable. And if you think his name is enough to protect you from me, then I truly did fail in your education.”

She took a step toward Clara, the Sentinel behind her letting out a low, vibrating growl that made the floorboards tremble.

“Get out of my way, Clara,” the Mother commanded, her voice vibrating with a sudden, dark power.

“I am not here for you. But if you don’t move, I will finally do what I should have done the day you were born. I have always wanted you dead, my little disappointment. Don’t give me a reason to make it a reality today.”

Isabella watched, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked at Clara’s back—the rigid, rope-covered shoulders of the woman who had just been her rival and was now, somehow, her only shield.

“I’m not moving,” Clara whispered. Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t step aside.

“Then you’ll die with the abomination,” the Mother snarled.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep