Chapter 122: I forgot. You’ll never be able to speak again

Words : 1029 Updated : Sep 28th, 2025

Chapter 122: Chapter 122: I forgot. You’ll never be able to speak again WARNING: SENSITIVE CONTENT AHEAD Opehlia caught the look and felt a sudden prickle of unease. "Is something wrong with the soup?" she asked, glancing down at the bowl, then back at Zara. Zara shook her head. "No, nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering... what are those?" She pointed over Opehlia’s shoulder, her finger aiming toward the row of large pots behind her. Opehlia, momentarily distracted, turned her head to follow Zara’s gesture. The pots were sitting on a stone slab, ready to be filled with more soup. Isabella had planned to make a large batch soon and teach the villagers how to use it. It was all part of her efforts to help the village and introduce them to something new, something that could bring everyone together. When Opehlia turned back to Zara, her smile was warm and innocent. "Oh, those are just some pots. Isabella plans on making a big batch soon and teaching the villagers how to cook. It’ll be a big help to everyone." But Zara didn’t seem to hear her. The moment Ophelia turned away, Zara’s hands moved fast—almost too fast to catch. From a small leaf-shaped pouch, she poured something into the bowl of soup meant for Isabella. It was swift, subtle—if Ophelia hadn’t been distracted by Zara’s question, she might’ve missed it entirely. Zara’s eyes flicked back up to Opehlia, her smile widening as she stepped back. "I’m sure Isabella will love it," she said, her tone light, almost too casual. Opehlia, still unaware, beamed at Zara. "Yeah, she’ll love it. I’m sure she’s going to enjoy all the things we’re making for her." The tension in the air thickened for a brief second, but Zara didn’t let it show. She just gave a nod, her smile still firmly in place, before turning to leave. Opehlia, still none the wiser, watched her go, feeling a sense of calm she didn’t quite understand. As Zara walked away, her heart raced just a little. She had a plan, and it was working perfectly. It might’ve been the stone age, sure—but the way this beastworld did palaces? Excessive. Every structure, whether tucked in the heart of a city or cradled by some remote village, was unnecessarily massive. Towering walls. Endless hallways. Everything was big for no reason at all—just vibes, apparently. Zara walked through the wide passage with clipped, hurried steps. Her breathing was uneven, and her fingers twitched as they brushed against the inside of her fur sleeve. Too fast. Too obvious. Her head stayed down, but every step sounded too loud in her ears. She was almost in the clear when she rounded a corner and slammed straight into a body. Zara stumbled back with a sharp gasp, her heart jumping to her throat. A steadying hand caught her before she could fall. Shelia. Of all people. Her blue eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. Shelia hadn’t seen Zara in a while, and truthfully, she’d hoped she wouldn’t anytime soon. But fate had other ideas, and now here the girl was, fidgety and trying too hard to appear innocent. "Zara," Shelia said slowly, gaze locking on her like a hawk spotting prey. "You’re walking like you’ve got a ghost on your heels." Zara forced a scoff, annoyed with herself for slipping up. "Please. You think all I do is cause trouble?" She tried to laugh. She tried to keep her voice smooth. She failed. Shelia didn’t smile. "That’s because you do." The tension thickened instantly. It coiled between them like smoke. Zara’s jaw twitched. "I didn’t do anything." Shelia’s gut clenched. Her instincts prickled—a warning, sharp and icy. Something was off. Very off. Her voice turned cool. "Word of advice. Stay away from Isabella." Zara blinked, taken aback. "She’s not the strange woman who stumbled into this village anymore," Shelia continued, voice like a blade sliding from its sheath. "She’s not temporary. She’s here to stay." Zara’s lips curled. "And if I don’t?" Shelia didn’t flinch. "I’ll end you." The words were quiet. Steady. Too calm. Zara felt it. That chill ripple crawl up her spine. "I’m not joking," Shelia added, stepping forward until their faces were inches apart. "And for the record? Give up. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she ends up with Kian." And that—that—snapped something inside Zara. Her eyes darkened instantly, the pupils narrowing like a predator about to strike. Her fingers, which had been tucked subtly beneath her fur sleeve, jerked out. Too fast. Before Shelia could even react— Pain exploded in her throat. Her vocal cords burned, like someone had poured acid down her windpipe. No scream came. Only a wheeze. A choke. Her hands clawed at her neck, nails digging into skin, but it was useless. Her face twisted in agony—beyond recognition, beyond saving. Shelia dropped to her knees. Her fingers trembled against her throat, trying to claw out the fire crawling up her windpipe. But it was useless. Her scream never made it past her lips. It was trapped. Burning. And then— Her skin began to peel. Like paper curling in fire, her cheeks flaked and split open, blood seeping through the raw red surface beneath. Her jawbone cracked with a sickening pop, and her lips shriveled inwards as if the muscles were melting off her face. She collapsed sideways, twitching violently, face crumpling in on itself. Nose sunken. Eyes wide, bloodshot, unable to blink. Zara crouched beside her slowly, watching the grotesque transformation with eerie calm—head tilted, eyes blank, mouth slightly parted like she was studying a new painting. Then she reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Shelia’s hair. Dragged her. The soft scrapes of Shelia’s twitching body echoed against the cold palace floor as Zara pulled her like she was nothing but a rag doll. Zara leaned in close, her voice dropping into a quiet, icy whisper. Smooth. Calm. Too calm. "Don’t you ever say that to me again." She laughed. A quiet, breathy giggle that didn’t belong to a sane person. "Oh wait," she said, mock-pouting. "I forgot. You’ll never be able to speak again."

Chapter 122: I forgot. You’ll never be able to speak again

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