Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 97

THIRD PERSON POV

The table crashed against the stone wall with a thunderous crack, splintering into pieces. Dust rose like ash, and the sound echoed through the vast, dark chamber.

The Mistress stood at the center of the room, her eyes burning like fire against the cold gloom. Her gown, black as the void, rippled around her ankles as the air itself seemed to recoil from her rage.

The shadows trembled in every corner, pressing themselves into the cracks of the walls, desperate not to be seen.

“You told me,” she said slowly, her voice sharp and icy, “that you could handle a simple task.”

Her tone dropped lower-quieter, but deadlier. “A. Simple. Task.”

None of the shadows dared to speak. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until she moved again-fast, furious. Another object, a vase, flew across the room and shattered against the far wall.

“You ran!” she screamed. “All of you ran!”

Her power burst outward like wind from a storm. The shadows scattered, their shapeless forms twisting violently as they fought to stay together. The air grew colder, heavier.

“At that gathering,” she hissed, pacing back and forth, “you had the perfect chance-the perfect stage! All of them, gathered in one place.

The king, his warriors, his precious nobles.” Her fingers curled into claws. “It would have been beautiful. A massacre. And yet-”

She stopped, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

“-you ran.”

Her words struck like a blade. The nearest shadow whimpered, its form shrinking into the floor.

“We didn’t know, Mistress,” it whispered. Its voice was trembling, thin as paper. “We didn’t know he knew.”

Her head tilted sharply. “Knew what?”

The shadow hesitated. Then, with a trembling voice, it said, “That we fear the mirrors.”

The room went silent. Even the air froze.

Her expression didn’t change at first. But her eyes-those cold eyes-narrowed, and the edges of her smile began to twitch.

“Nobody,” she whispered, her voice low and cold, “knows that.”

Her heels clicked once against the floor as she took a step forward. The shadow flinched.

Not one soul in this world was supposed to know that.”

The silence stretched again. The other shadows cowered, melting deeper into the walls, terrified to breathe, terrified to speak.

Finally, she asked quietly, “Who told him?”

The shadow hesitated, its form flickering weakly. “We-we don’t know, Mistress. Only one person ever knew that secret.”

The Mistress froze.

The silence turned suffocating.

“Who,” she asked, her voice now barely a whisper, “knew that secret?”

The shadow swallowed hard. “Her.”

The word fell into the air like a drop of poison.

Her head turned slightly, her expression unreadable. “She’s not alive anymore,” the Mistress said, her tone sharp, clipped. “So how could he have known?”

No one answered

Her jaw tightened. She began to pace again, her long dress brushing over the cold stone floor. The shadows trembled with every step she took, the sound of her heels echoing like distant thunder.

Then she stopped suddenly.

Something changed in her eyes.

Her lips parted, and a strange, cold smile curved across her face. “The Red Book.”

The shadows screamed.

Their voices tore through the air-distorted, inhuman. The walls shook with the force of their terror.

“Mistress, no!” one of them cried. “Don’t speak of it! Don’t-”

Another cut in, its voice shaking. “We thought it was lost! Gone forever!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Lost?” she said softly. “Lost?”

Her voice sharpened. “You thought it was lost?”

The chamber trembled.

“I burned that book myself,” she hissed. “I watched it turn to ash. You me to tell me it still exists?”

Her heart was pounding. Her breathing uneven. She didn’t remember the last time she’d lost control like this.

“Why,” she screamed, “did I not feel it?!”

Her voice echoed, twisting through the dark hall like a thousand knives.

No one dared to answer. The silence stretched, and her fury burned hotter, wilder.

Her nails dug into her palms until blood began to drip down her fingers.

“Someone tell me!” she demanded. “When did it happen?! How long ago?!”

No one moved.

Finally, the third shadow spoke again, weakly. “There’s still hope,

Mistress.”

Her head snapped toward it.

The creature trembled. “She… she hasn’t unlocked her full power yet.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Slowly, her breathing steadied. Her expression shifted-still furious, but colder now.

Calculated.

Not yet,” she repeated softly.

Her blood dripped onto the floor, a dark red stain spreading against the frost.

Then her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “Then we still have time.”

The shadows didn’t move. They waited, afraid to ask what she meant.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and deadly. “We have to kill her.”

The words hit like ice.

“Before,” she continued, her eyes glowing brighter than fire, “her powers fully awaken.”

Her voice was calm again-terrifyingly calm. She lifted her bloody hand and watched the crimson drops fall, one by one, onto the cold stone.

“Find her,” she whispered. “Before the moon rises again.”