Chapter 4
1288 Vouchers.
Sudden commotion erupted from the sacrificial altar.
Arthur Miller frowned, an ominous premonition instantly gripping him.
Yet the surrounding werewolves continued their cheers.
Mary Jackson before him kept her head bowed, cheeks flushed with shyness.
He clenched the Ceremonial Ribbon in his hand, finally snorting in disdain.
Overthinking. What could possibly go wrong…
When the festivities settled,
they followed werewolf clan traditions, men and women sharing tables as they drank and chatted.
Children darted playfully between the tables
Arthur’s expression softened–a rare sight.
After years living with the witch clan, he’d long severed ties with such
customs.
Amid clinking wine cups, he abruptly remembered Diana Walker still baking under the scorching sun outside.
Arthur’s chest tightened. He crooked a finger sideways.
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The next instant, a lifeless figure was dumped carelessly onto the ground.
She lay motionless, utterly still.
For no discernible reason, Arthur’s heart lurched violently before racing
He scoffed, though his voice quivered slightly.
“Diana, quit playing the victim! Get up now!”
Dead silence blanketed the air.
The boisterous werewolves sensed the shift, falling utterly quiet.
288 Vouchers
Only the innocent laughter of children now echoed between tables.
Arthur’s breath hitched.
He bolted upright, striding to where she lay.
Snatching a nearby whip, he swung it down without hesitation.
The lash tore through the air, striking her body with brutal force.
My body shuddered from the impact, yet remained utterly unresponsive.
Unnamed panic surged through him, overriding all else.
Arthur dropped to his knees, tilting my head upward.
But what met his eyes was a face deathly pale, devoid of life.
“…Diana?”
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His voice faded to a whisper.
Trembling hands wiped blood from my cheeks,
yet it gushed like a burst dam-
an unstemmable flow from the corners of my lips.
The man’s legs buckled instantly, collapsing beneath him.
He frantically cradled my upper body against his chest,
desperately pressing hands against the relentless crimson tide, eyes hollow with despair.
Then, lifting his head toward the stunned werewolves, he screamed hoarsely:
“Get me a doctor! Now!”
But doctor after doctor came,
each ultimately delivering the same verdict:
I’d been dead for hours.
Until one mentioned–a witch doctor might still offer a sliver of hope.
Arthur’s eyes lit up, lips parting to speak-
then froze.
He’d slaughtered every last witch clan member.
No healers remained.
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The man sat numbly beside my body,
clutching my twisted hand, staring at the ninety–nine acupuncture needles extracted from it.
Suddenly, someone stumbled in from outside.
Hearing the report, Arthur’s face stiffened.
His lips trembled.
“You’re saying… my mother and sister… have returned?”
Arthur Miller froze in place, a chill shooting from his soles to his
crown.
He lunged forward, grabbing the face of the nearest sister.
The sister’s mouth twisted from his grip.
“What! Why are you grabbing me?”
His hand slid off her face with a light flick.
His breathing grew ragged, eyes rimmed red
“Not dead… truly not dead…”
“Hey! You’re cursing me to die?”
The sister jumped up, punching Arthur Miller’s shoulder.
As she opened her mouth to taunt, she saw her brother’s unnaturally red eyes.
Her whole body stiffened.
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Their mother tugged the sister’s arm, shaking her head.
Then she gazed gently at Arthur Miller.
“If that witch hadn’t sent guides, we’d never have escaped the woods outside the dungeon.”
“Arthur Miller, our clan had a traitor.”
“Traitor…”
Arthur Miller numbly mouthed the word.
He silently listened as his mother recounted the whole truth.
The witch clan never enslaved the werewolf clan.
But hundreds of werewolves imprisoned in that dungeon–that was real.
Only the mastermind wasn’t the witch clan.
But a female werewolf who betrayed her own kind.
Born rebellious, she murdered her parents and deliberately stirred conflict between the clans.
His own mother had been deceived, fleeing with him and his sister.
By the time she discovered the truth, it was too late to turn back.
In that lightless dungeon.
He suffered a near–fatal head injury.
His mother struggled to protect them both.
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When forced to choose, the Witch Clan Priestess intervened- investigating secretly while guiding them through the woods.
She even saved Arthur Miller’s life.
Without her, they’d have perished.
So they hid outside for two years.
Only setting out to find Arthur Miller half a month ago.
Arthur Miller collapsed to the ground.
Staring at his trembling hands, despair flooded his heart.
“What… have I done…”
1288 Vouchers
Ignoring his bewildered family, he scraped his nails bloody against the earth.
Staggering, he began crawling toward my direction.
“Diana…”
But before reaching the door, a sharp sword thrust toward his face.
The girl’s eyes burned crimson, gazing at Arthur Miller on the ground as if looking at a corpse.
“What did you do to the High Priestess!”
