CHAPTER 313: SCARED

But she had just frozen in place, her entire body rigid, a look of pure shock spreading rapidly across her face like a wildfire. Her breath hitched, chest rising in uneven bursts as her eyes lit up, glowing faintly in the way they only did when her magic surged from within—her immediate instinct to begin casting under her breath kicking in like muscle memory. But just as her lips parted, and the words began to form, she was struck silent by what she saw next.

Turning her head sharply to the right, her eyes scanned the area, heart racing, intent on checking to see if the doctor beside her—her only assumed protection in that moment—was also under attack. But the second she looked up, she was stunned into silence. Her entire body seized up as her gaze locked onto something unnatural. The doctor, the same man who had held roses just moments ago, who had walked beside her in nervous silence—his eyes were no longer the tired, soft brown they’d been. Instead, they shimmered a bright, cold purple.

It was a color that no ordinary man—no ordinary creature—possessed. Only one kind of being could harbor such a shade: a witch. And not just any witch... a powerful one.

Uva’s instinct was to scramble back, her body reacting on its own, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as she realized the massive, terrifying mistake she’d made in allowing her arm to wrap around him. But before she could take even half a step, her muscles gave out beneath her like wet paper. She felt her knees weaken further as her body locked up, her limbs losing their strength. She could barely even raise her arm.

And in that exact moment, the creature beside her—the thing wearing his face—grabbed her by the arm and yanked her violently into the dark alleyway to their left. The movement was so swift and so fluid that Uva had no time to scream until she was already halfway down the narrow space, her shoes scraping against the pavement.

Her mouth opened in a wail of protest, a scream that tore out of her throat raw and shrill. Panic surged inside her like an icy tide. She screamed again—louder, higher—hoping someone would hear. Someone had to hear. This was Cain’s district. People walked the sidewalks freely. But to her horror, no one even glanced in their direction.

No heads turned. No footsteps paused. It was like she didn’t exist at all.

And that was when true terror settled deep in her bones.

The witch had masked her entirely. Cloaked the entire scene in a glamour so well-crafted that even nearby guards—werewolves with enhanced senses—couldn’t see or hear what was happening. That kind of magic was beyond rare. Only witches of extreme rank could perform it.

Uva’s eyes snapped to the woman now dragging her like a ragdoll. The grip on her arm was ironclad, fingers digging into her skin with force that made her bones creak. She whimpered, twisting her wrist in a futile attempt to pull away, only to gasp when a spike of pain shot through her shoulder.

"Please—!" she cried out, choking on her words, the tears in her eyes no longer just performative. Real fear twisted through every syllable now, staining her voice with raw emotion. "Please, wait—I don’t know what you want, but—"

The words died in her throat as she tried again to cast a freeing spell—anything to loosen the magical weight locking her bones in place—but nothing happened. Her magic was sealed. Not just restrained, but locked. As if her very blood had been turned against her, her veins filled with cement instead of power. A spell that invasive was almost impossible to detect unless already afflicted.

Her mouth trembled. The trembling in her limbs was no longer from fear alone—it was the unbearable helplessness that came with knowing she had no way out.

"I don’t know what you want, but you and I both know witches’ blood is terrible for experiments!" she exclaimed suddenly, desperate to reason, her voice cracking.

"If you need something—you can just tell me! I’ll help!" she offered frantically, voice on the verge of full-blown pleading.

The figure beside her didn’t slow or loosen her grip. She said nothing at first, only dragging Uva deeper into the alley, the shadows growing thicker around them like they were being swallowed whole. Then, the voice came. Calm. Measured. Terrifying in its composure.

"Yes... but we both know our eyes are prime material for some experiments," the woman said coolly, the false voice still cloaked in the familiar tone of the doctor. But Uva could hear it now—that crack beneath the mask. That edge of truth beneath the charade.

"No—no!" Uva shook her head violently, heart thudding as she stumbled on her feet, legs buckling.

"It’s banned! We all know that’s banned!" she stammered, her voice rising with desperation. "Anyone caught doing it would be executed—immediately! That’s an order directly from the High Coven!"

She tried to anchor herself in those facts, hoping they would somehow hold weight against the force dragging her. "You might be powerful... but even you know better than to go against them!"

Her voice broke again. "Whatever you want... I can get it for you! Materials, blood samples, enchanted relics—I have access to things—please..."

And just like that, the grip on her wrist loosened.

Relief, icy and sudden, rushed through her. Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps as she looked up, eyes wet with tears—only to flinch when she saw the transformation begin.

The false face—the doctor’s aging, nervous features—melted away like wax under flame. The skin rippled. The body stretched taller. The hair lengthened and deepened in hue, morphing into thick, cascading locks of onyx black.

The eyes remained unchanged. Still glowing violet—but now they were unmistakably feminine. Sharper. Older. Terrifying.

"No..." Uva gasped, stumbling back a few paces, her boots scraping the cobblestone underfoot. She stared in horror at the woman before her, struggling to comprehend what she was seeing.

"Impossible..." she breathed, eyes wide, mouth falling open. She backed up again—only to crash into a solid wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Her hands reached out, trembling fingers brushing against a surface that felt like polished obsidian. A barrier. Magic. She hadn’t even seen it cast.

She looked back again, breathing shallow, staring up at the now fully revealed witch standing tall in front of her.

Long black robes clung to the woman’s form, stitched with silver runes that glinted faintly under the dim light. Her dark cloak pooled behind her like a shadow given life, and the air around her crackled with raw magical energy.

She was beautiful—terrifyingly so. Regal in a way that demanded submission. And those violet eyes glowed like twin moons in the dark.

"Powerful..." Uva thought numbly, her mind reeling.

"Clearly," the woman replied aloud, a small, cruel smirk tugging at her lips.

Uva’s blood turned to ice.

That voice... that posture... that level of power...

She dropped to her knees instantly, head bowed so low it touched the ground, her hands trembling as she spread them flat against the stone.

"Your Highness... High Coven Witch... Lady June..."

Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. But the name echoed in her mind like a death sentence.

Lady June.

The enforcer of the High Coven. Ruthless. Feared. Revered. A zealot for purity among witches and a staunch opponent of integration with other races. Her philosophy was brutal: witches should remain in the Coven, breed among themselves, and grow their numbers into an empire.

She had executed witches who disobeyed. Destroyed entire bloodlines for dissent.

And now she was standing over Uva.

"Good," Lady June said, her voice smooth like silk yet sharp like broken glass.

"You seem to be doing well outside the Coven."

Uva nearly choked at the words. They were mild on the surface, but laced with venom. A threat so subtle, it might as well have been a blade pressed to her neck.

Lady June’s arms folded across her chest, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she stepped closer.

"Did you find the Werewolf district to be all that? I heard you were working directly under Lord Vazer," she said.

Uva didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t afford to.

"Yes, your Highness," she said quickly. "The pay was high. I needed funding to continue my research. I wasn’t planning on staying long."

To her surprise, Lady June simply nodded, though her expression remained unreadable.

Uva’s heart pounded, her mind counting down each second as she begged silently that this wouldn’t end with her blood on the alley floor.

"You work for Lord Cain now?" Lady June asked.

"Yes, your Highness," Uva said again, the words mechanical.

"And his lover. You’ve met her?" she asked, and this time the calm tone did nothing to soothe Uva. Instead, it made her bones ache with dread.

"Yes, your Highness," she said again without pause. "She’s a witch. Lord Cain adores her. Cultivating her as one of us will have numerous benefits."

Uva dared not look up. Her forehead stayed pressed to the stone, her fingers curling inward with silent tension.

She didn’t know what Lady June wanted—but one thing was clear.

One wrong word, and she would not walk out of that alley alive.