CHAPTER 132: YOUNG LILITH IV

*~ Young Lilith’s POV~*

I had been in my own house all day, trapped in my room like a prisoner. But when night fell, my father came. He opened the door without a word, and before I could even brace myself, he yanked me out. I fought him—kicking, pulling, digging my nails into his arm—but his strength was relentless. My struggles were nothing compared to his grip.

"Stop!" I shouted, my voice cracking. But it only earned me the sharp sting of his palm across my face. My head whipped to the side, my cheek burning, my pride splintering.

And there she was.

My mother. Standing right in front of the door. Awake. Alive. But hollow. God knows what he had done to her. She stood motionless, her eyes glassy with tears that slid silently down her cheeks.

"Mom, do something!" I begged, my voice raw, desperate. "Please, I don’t want to go back there!"

But she only stared. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. Her silence screamed louder than anything. I could see it—the agony, the helplessness carved deep in her soul. And then, without a word, she turned. She walked back inside and shut the door.

"No!" I screamed, the sound tearing out of me like claws. Another slap silenced me, sharper, harder. My lips trembled as I bit down on my tongue, tasting blood, forcing myself to shut up. If I made another sound, if I tested him again, I knew he’d hit me harder.

The carriage wheels groaned as we rode into the night, the forest swallowing us whole. My wolves inside me screamed warnings—danger, danger, danger—but their voices felt faint, like echoes through thick walls. Why was he doing this to me? Why, when he was supposed to protect me?

The horses slowed, and then I saw it again. The cave.

My stomach dropped. My breath caught.

The wolves were there, waiting, their glowing eyes watching with that ancient, cold hunger. They dragged me out as I thrashed weakly, but my limbs betrayed me, heavy and useless. I was no match.

Inside the cave, the stench hit me first. The foul mix of rot and smoke and blood clawed its way into my lungs until I gagged and covered my nose. The dead witches were still sprawled across the stone floor. The werewolves, too. No one had cleared them. Their bodies were left to fester, a warning, a curse.

And then I saw him—the boy who had once tried to fight the cloaked figure. His body was still there. His wolf long gone, his flesh decaying, his stench unbearable. The sight punched the air out of me. My heart twisted in grief and horror.

They tied me again, rope biting into my wrists. Weak as I was, even if I wanted to fight, my body refused. All I could do was sit. Watch. Wait.

That’s when I noticed her.

The redhead girl. She was here too, seated not far from me. Her fiery hair was tangled and dirty, her lips still stained with dried blood. Last time, she had been wild, frantic, her cries filling the air. But now she was quiet. Still. Her green eyes found mine, and though pain still swam in them, there was a strange calm there too...as if she had surrendered to something I couldn’t see... but can relate to it.

The air shifted.

The cloaked figure emerged.

"Happy to see you children again," she said, her voice smooth and sharp like glass.

I almost spat out words I would regret—Get out!—but I clenched my jaw and stayed silent.

She unsheathed her knife, letting it catch the dim light. Everyone flinched back. My heart hammered so loud I swore she could hear it.

And then—she laughed. A cruel, twisted laugh.

"Ha! Don’t be afraid, little wolves," she said.

Her voice. It was feminine. Cold. Mocking.

A woman.

How could a woman sound so utterly merciless? I had always believed cruelty belonged to men, that monsters wore their faces. But her? She was something far worse.

"Relax," she went on, her tone dripping with mockery. "I’m not using the knife on you again... atleast not tonight."

She tilted her head, her cloak shifting as she stepped closer.

"Your hands still bear yesterday’s marks," she said, and I could almost hear her smile beneath the hood. "Tonight begins the second half. Tonight... we weave what was broken. Tonight we add witches into wolves... and wolves into witches."

A chill tore through me.

I didn’t understand. But my bones did. My soul did. Whatever she meant—it was nothing good....Nothing good at all.

The cloaked woman stretched her pale hands forward.

The air grew heavier, colder, as the bodies on the floor began to stir.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. A twitch. A crack. But then—I wasn’t. Their limbs shifted, bones popping as if pulled by invisible strings.

We all screamed.

How could this be possible? Dead bodies... moving?

The corpses dragged themselves across the stone floor with grotesque jerks, until they stopped in front of her, kneeling like loyal servants.

Her hood tilted, eyes flashing, and then she looked at the red-haired girl.

All eyes turned with hers.

"No—please, don’t do this to me!" the girl shrieked, scrambling back against the wall. Her voice cracked with terror. "Please! Please!"

The woman only chuckled, cruel and calm. She crossed the floor in slow, measured steps until she towered over the trembling girl. Then, without warning, she pressed her lips to the red-haired girl’s mouth.

The girl’s scream was muffled, her body stiff. My own stomach churned at the sight.

"Don’t worry, child," the cloaked figure whispered, pulling away, her voice a venomous lullaby. "I won’t harm you. I will make you powerful. The strongest creature ever born. I will make you... a Crescent."

She released her. The girl gasped, wiping at her mouth as if she could erase the woman’s touch. "No! I don’t want it! Please, don’t—"

The crack of a slap cut her off. Blood sprayed from her lips.

God. How many times had she already been struck? How much pain had she endured?

The cloaked figure grabbed her arm, dragging her like a rag doll toward the circle formed by the corpses. The girl fought, screaming, trying to bolt for the exit. But the woman raised one hand, murmured a single word, and a barrier shimmered into existence. The girl slammed into it and stumbled back, trapped.

"Please!" she sobbed. "Don’t harm me!"

"I already told you, sweet girl," the woman crooned, her tone almost mocking. "I won’t harm you. I will make you whole. You are a witch, yes? But you lack what you need most. Tonight, you will have a wolf."

Witches. Wolves. My breath hitched. So not everyone here was a wolf like me. Some of the abducted children were witches, stolen unwillingly. But why? What did she mean by Crescent?

The woman began to chant.

The red-haired girl dropped to her knees as though the words themselves were strangling her. She clutched her throat, choking, gasping for air. Her eyes rolled back, life draining from them like sand through glass.

"Please..." she whispered hoarsely. "Please don’t..."

And then she collapsed, lifeless.

The cloaked woman approached her calmly, as if nothing about this was monstrous. She lifted the limp body, laid it down gently beside one of the corpses, and tied them together with a glowing red rope—one loop around the girl’s wrist, one around the dead wolf.

"Very sad," she murmured, though her voice carried no sorrow.

The rope flared to life. Red light pulsed through it like veins of fire.

Everyone stared, frozen, unable to look away. My hands shook so badly I could hear the rope scratching against my skin. Was this what she planned for me? To shove some rotting wolf inside of me?

No. No, no, no. That couldn’t happen.

But I didn’t dare scream. I didn’t dare move. I knew better.

And then it happened.

The red-haired girl jerked upright with a guttural scream. The sound was raw, animal, tearing through the cave. Everyone flinched, shrinking back—everyone except the cloaked figure.

The girl’s chest heaved, her hands clawing at the air. She turned her head, her gaze falling on the corpse still tied to her. Recognition—or horror—flashed in her face. She screamed again, louder this time.

The rope snapped apart in a burst of light. The dead body beside her crumbled into ashes.

Her green eyes bled into glowing crimson. Her aura swelled, dark and heavy, pressing against my chest like a storm.

Claws slid from her fingers. Not witch’s claws. Wolf’s claws.

My heart froze.

The wolf. The dead wolf. It was inside her now.

She staggered forward, breaking through the barrier in a surge of wild power, and lunged for the cloaked woman.

For a heartbeat, I thought she might succeed.

But then—the cloaked figure snapped her fingers.

The girl collapsed instantly, hitting the stone floor hard. Her new red eyes flickered, her claws retracting as her body went limp.

"Now sleep, sweetheart," the woman said sweetly. "Sleep."

She turned back to us. Slowly. Deliberately. Her hood shifted, and I felt her gaze slice through the darkness—right to me.

"Who’s next?"

Sweat trickled down my forehead. My breath caught in my throat....Her eyes didn’t leave mine.

Hello young wolf..