The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 142

Corrupted-2

“No.”

His voice was firm.

Unyielding.

“Melissandre… you are the most powerful witch in this kingdom.”

A beat.

“And I need the best.”

Silence fell between them.

Heavy.

Measured.

Claim

She studied him again, deeper this time, as if trying to read beyond his words, beyond his posture, beyond the prince sitting in front of her.

Then-

She leaned forward slightly.

“Who is infected?” she asked quietly.

And for the first time-

There was something dangerous in her tone.

Something that said she already suspected the answer wouldn’t be simple.

Caleb held her gaze.

Unflinching.

And when he spoke-

His voice carried a weight that made the air in the room feel colder.

“…I suspect the entire Lycan royal household.”

A pause.

A breath.

“…myself included.”

Silence.

Absolute.

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Melissandre froze.

Her eyes widened just slightly, shock breaking through her composure for the first time as the full implication of his words settled in.

“It is impossible,” she finally said, her voice firm, almost dismissive, though there was a faint tension beneath it that betrayed her unease. “You are Lycan royalty.”

She straightened slightly, her chin lifting.

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“You carry ancient blood, protected blood,” she continued, her tone gaining strength as she leaned into certainty. “You are not easily influenced, not easily manipulated… your kind has natural resistance to most forms of witchcraft.”

Her gaze narrowed.

“Especially something as invasive as what you are suggesting.”

Caleb listened.

Calm.

Still.

But when she finished-

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders barely moving, his expression not shifting even a fraction.

Then he looked at her.

Directly.

Cold.

“Test me.”

The two words fell into the room like a challenge.

Like a command.

Melissandre held his gaze for a moment longer, searching, questioning, weighing-

And then, slowly…

She nodded.

“Very well.”

There was no hesitation now.

Only purpose.

She turned, moving with practiced precision toward a nearby table lined with vials, herbs, and instruments, her hands steady despite the growing tension in the air.

“If you are wrong,” she muttered as she worked, “you are wasting both of our time.”

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Calcb didn’t respond.

Because he knew→

He wasn’t wrong.

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Melissandre poured several liquids into a crystal bowl, each vial releasing a different scent into the air- bitter, sharp, metallic-until the mixture settled into a pale, translucent glow.

She returned to him, holding a small blade between her fingers.

“Give me your hand.”

Caleb extended it without hesitation.

Her grip was firm as she took it, her movements precise as she pressed the blade against his fingertip and drew a small cut, just enough to let the blood well up.

A few drops fell into the bowl.

And then-

They waited.

At first-

Nothing.

The liquid remained still.

Harmless.

Ordinary.

Melissandre exhaled faintly, as if already preparing to dismiss the entire thing-

But then-

The surface shifted.

A ripple.

Subtle.

Then stronger.

す

The liquid began to swirl, slowly at first, then faster, twisting in unnatural patterns as the color started to darken, the pale glow fading into something murky, something wrong.

Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Melissandre stilled completely.

The swirl intensified.

The color deepened.

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And within seconds-

The liquid transformed.

Dark.

Viscous.

Thick like tar.

A foul, almost rotting smell rose from the bowl, filling the room, heavy and unmistakably corrupted.

Silence fell.

Heavy.

Absolute.

Melissandre’s hand trembled slightly as she stared at the bowl, her composure shattering completely, disbelief flooding her expression.

“…No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her eyes flicked up to Caleb, wide now, shaken.

“This… this should be impossible…”

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Her breath hitched slightly as she looked back at the corrupted mixture, as if hoping it would change back, as if denying what was right in front of her.

“The last Black Blood witch…” she continued, her voice trembling now, the words coming slower, heavier. …was dealt with before you were even born…”

A pause.

A swallow.

“And yet…”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

“The proof is undeniable… this is forbidden work…”

The room felt colder.

Darker.

More dangerous.

Melissandre looked at him again, something almost like fear creeping into her gaze now.

“… How did you know?”

But Caleb-

He didn’t answer.

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Her words barely registered.