CHAPTER 275: STRANGE BEAST II

My heart pounded as I watched the King approach with the council of elders, their steps slow, deliberate, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of us.

They moved toward the center of the square where the beast had been laid down by the strong werewolves. Right beside it lay the Fulak beast—once terrifying, now looking small, almost inconsequential.

The strange beast dwarfed it, so massive and heavy that it had taken more than thirty men to drag it from the forest into the square. The King had even sent more men to assist because they hadn’t allowed us to help them with our magic.

Rules, always rules.

I shifted uneasily, watching the King’s eyes widen as he came within a few feet of the creature. The disbelief etched on his face was mirrored in the expressions of the elders behind him.

The people had been sent home to avoid crowding the square, but their absence did little to ease the thick, suffocating tension in the air.

Then I noticed him.

An old male, perhaps in his eighties, his robes trailing dust, his sparse hair as white as new snow. His face was pale, but what struck me most was the unmistakable look of fear twisting his features.

Hosea. The King’s scribe. Keeper of the pack’s library. The one who carried the stories of their lineage, their histories, their secrets. I remembered him.

And that fear—so raw, so unmasked—made my stomach tighten.

He stumbled forward as if in a trance, his frail body pulled by something stronger than will. His trembling hand rose, pointing at the beast, his lips parting around a gasp that cut the silence in two.

"It is a Zikhona."

The words left him in a broken whisper, his voice shaking like brittle glass.

"A predator of the Fulak. It was most likely drawn by the hunt. But... impossible." His head shook violently. "Impossible."

The King’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the beast again, though I could tell from the shift in his gaze that some part of him already knew. He had expected this. Or feared it.

"Hosea, what is the matter?" The King’s voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the same unease.

"These creatures are extinct," Hosea said, the words sharper now, firmer, though his hands still shook. "It’s not possible for one to appear in our pack. Unless..."

His gaze cut toward me.

My stomach dropped. My body went cold. I already knew what he would say, the words hanging between us before they even left his lips.

"Unless it was conjured by magic."

The murmurs rose like a storm then, hissing through the crowd.

Hosea crouched, finding strength in some hidden well, his bony fingers tracing the beast’s neck. I hadn’t noticed the marks before—two puncture wounds, precise, deep. Fangs.

He looked up, eyes grim. "Vampire. That’s what makes it agile, alive. Magic... and the blood of a vampire."

The elders erupted in a flurry of whispers and accusations:

"It is her presence that caused this!"

"She should be sent away at once!"

"Maybe she conjured it to kill us all—she has never liked us!"

"Or perhaps she wants the vampires to gain entry into the pack."

That last suggestion was so absurd my mind snagged on it. Vampires gaining entry... because of me? Because of a dead beast? The logic unraveled before it even formed, yet their eyes were on me—dozens of eyes, sharp and accusing, filled with murder.

The air pressed down on me, thick with hostility.

"I—" I started, my voice rising to defend myself.

"Shut up!" one of the elders barked.

Gasps rippled. Speaking over me was one thing. Shouting in the King’s presence without his permission—that was a crime. Yet the King remained silent, watching the beast, letting the tension grow, letting their hatred bare itself.

I clenched my fists, fury surging to burn away the fear clawing at my chest. Diana’s hand clutched my hand. Twice she squeezed, her silent vow that she stood with me. Raul stayed close too, his eyes hard, ignoring Levina who was beckoning to him desperately with wide, anxious eyes.

"You lot are stupider than I thought," I snapped, my voice like steel.

The words cracked across the air, silencing some, enraging others.

"How dare you?" one elder spat, stepping forward. His hair stuck out wildly, a mop of gray and black, his eyes full of venom.

"And how dare you accuse me without proof, without evidence?" My voice cut sharper, louder. "Why would I kill it if I were the one who conjured it?"

My gaze swept across them, daring them to answer. "Think, for once. I nearly died fighting it. Ask the men who were there. Ask the beast’s claws that nearly tore into me. Does that sound like the act of its creator?"

But their eyes did not soften.

A woman spoke next, holding her child to her chest, her lips trembling as she spat her poison. "Perhaps you did it to gain our King’s trust. To make us drop our guard. To leave us open for the vampires."

My control snapped. "That suggestion is as foolish as you are," I bit out, my gaze slashing her in two. "And for your child’s sake, I am disappointed in you."

Gasps erupted again, but I didn’t care. Let them gasp. Let them sneer. I was done shrinking, done cowering under their poisonous stares.

Hadn’t I saved them? Shouldn’t they be grateful? Instead, they twisted salvation into condemnation. Perhaps the King had already poisoned their minds against me. Perhaps no deed of mine would ever be enough.

I laughed. A sharp, bitter laugh that startled even me. Then another. Louder, fuller, a laugh that didn’t belong to relief but to the edge of madness. Their faces twisted in confusion, in unease.

"You lot are insane," I spat. "I saved your pack from this beast. From something you couldn’t defeat. And instead of thanks, I get accusations. I should have turned aside, like my friend advised. I should have walked away. After all, you were on a hunt, weren’t you? You should have hunted it yourselves."

My eyes locked onto Adam. He met my stare, his expression unreadable.

"She is right," he said finally, though his eyes didn’t waver from mine. "She saved us. We could not have defeated it easily. And I saw it attack her."

My lips curled faintly. Did he truly see, or was he choosing his side wisely?

"I don’t think she created it," Adam went on, his gaze flicking toward the beast. "We should rather concern ourselves with finding the witch working alongside a vampire."

The woman with the child opened her mouth to protest, but the King raised his hand.

"That’s enough," he said, his voice brooking no argument.

The murmurs died.

"My son is right. Our visitor is not behind this. That she is a witch does not make her guilty. We should be grateful, instead."

His gaze shifted to me, sharp but weighted, as though carrying words unspoken. "I am sorry," he said, his tone formal, heavy. "This was meant to be a vacation, and already you are forced to use your magic. I apologize for the ungratefulness shown to you."

I shrugged. But I wasn’t necessarily appeased. No. Not by a long short.

Not even by his command for the people to return to their homes.