Chapter 5
The moment I opened my eyes.
A pungent smell of blood rushed into my nostrils.
I stared blankly at the tent ceiling.
The patterns resembled ferocious ghost faces, clawing and baring fangs as they lunged at me.
Despair flooded over me in an instant.
Why am I still alive…
Instinctively, I reached for the chain around my neck, but there was nothing.
At the same time, I realized the wound on my arm had also vanished.
Frantically, I felt all over my body.
“Why…?”
My witch powers had long since disappeared.
So why had all the wounds healed?
“High Priestess…”
A weak voice came from beside me.
I froze, then slowly turned my head.
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There lay Elizabeth, my former personal guard, pale–faced and lying beside me.
In her palm was a horrifyingly large gash.
Blood gushed out continuously, staining the bed beneath her a glaring crimson.
On her other side sat a bowl.
It contained her warm blood.
I lifted my hand and tremblingly touched the corner of my mouth.
There seemed to be traces of blood still wet.
I suddenly reached out and clamped down on her hand, which was still squeezing the wound.
“Elizabeth… Elizabeth, you can’t do this!”
The witch clan members were ultimately different from me.
Though they could heal wounds quickly, it was only slightly faster than ordinary people.
Once they lost too much blood, their bodies would rapidly age.
They wouldn’t live more than a few days.
And Elizabeth was my only remaining clan member in this world.
I kept shaking my head at her, tears welling up in my eyes.
In response, she gave a faint smile.
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She slowly touched the back of my hand, then gripped it tightly.
“High Priestess… do you know why the Witch Clan Priestess is immortal?”
Elizabeth lowered her head slightly, her gaze gentle.
“Because we are all part of the High Priestess.”
“As long as the High Priestess lives, the witch clan lives.”
Tears fell like broken pearls from my eyes.
Suddenly, it was as if I had woken from a dream.
I instantly understood why Elizabeth was here.
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I had sent her to protect Arthur’s parents, and she had fortunately escaped the clan massacre.
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Now she was here exchanging blood for me, and it was undoubtedly Arthur’s doing.
Anger burned inside me like a raging fire, consuming me completely.
With endless despair, I began to scream at the top of my lungs.
“Arthur! Why won’t you let me die!”
“Do you have to be so cruel, tormenting me for a lifetime?!”
“Why… why…”
I clearly did nothing wrong, so why must I bear all this pain?
Even my right to die is taken away!
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My voice choked up as I watched Elizabeth wither like a flower beside
- me.
Outside the werewolf camp, Arthur paused abruptly at the sound.
He clenched his fists painfully, his knuckles turning white.
“I’m sorry, Diana.”
“But I can’t bear to be without you either.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, his eyes were cold.
He walked off in another direction.
I buried Elizabeth’s body with my own hands in the witch clan tombs.
The place lay in ruins, littered with bleached bones everywhere.
The werewolf clan hadn’t even spared the dead witches.
Later I thought of leaving, but Arthur never gave me the chance.
“Diana, I’ve ordered proper burials for all witch clan remains.”
“Don’t go… please don’t leave?”
Inside the lavish alpha’s tent, the man knelt on both knees.
Blood oozed from countless wounds covering his body.
Those were acupuncture needles Arthur had driven into himself for
penance.
Nine hundred and ninety–nine–far more than I’d endured.
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He claimed to share every ounce of my suffering.
But this spectacle only filled me with disgust.
“Stop playing martyr for sympathy. Just let me leave.”
My voice turned glacial as I watched him.
Every moment in this filthy place sickened me.
Arthur froze at my words, panic flashing in his eyes.
The next instant, he dragged his battered body toward me on his knees.
His trembling hand reached for mine.
Revulsion surged through me. I jerked sideways instinctively.
Then my palm cracked across his face.
The slap meant nothing to Arthur.
He seized my wrist, gaze overflowing with concern.
“Did you hurt your hand?”
Rage and humiliation exploded within me.
My foot lashed out, slamming into his shoulder.
Weakened by hundreds of needles, Arthur instantly paled.
A stifled groan echoed sharply in the silent tent.
Watching his agony brought vicious satisfaction.
Hatred burned in my eyes as I spat each word:
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“Does it hurt?”
But this pain couldn’t touch a fraction of my torment.
Countless days and nights of agony. Endless torture.
Those needles covering my skin were death warrants-
constant reminders of my humiliation.
All bestowed by the man before me.
Penance?
Ha! Spare me the hypocrisy!
Suddenly a hand lifted my foot.
I looked down to see Arthur’s bloodless lips forcing a smile.
“Doesn’t hurt… Diana. Do anything to me, just don’t say ‘leave‘.”
His raspy voice held feverish persistence.
My heart lurched violently.
“The werewolf traitor’s been captured.”
“That woman… she’s why we ended like this.”
Arthur’s breathing grew ragged.
His whole body shook uncontrollably, fingers tightening around my ankle.
“Kill her, and we’ll go back to how we were…”
