Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 143: The Oracle, The Witch

Chapter 143: The Oracle, The Witch

That shrill, familiar voice echoed in Lethia’s head. Her eyes flew open as she lifted her head. A swirling mass of reddish-orange smoke hovered above her, arching into a half-dome that wrapped her in a protective shield.

’Whisney... are you back?’

["I never left."]

’What is this?’ Lethia stared up at the glowing orange dome, its transparent shimmer both beautiful and terrifying.

["This? This is what happens when your tears meet the red energy of the bead. It shields you from harm... and reflects whatever the attacker tries to do. Like right now."]

Lethia was about to respond, but her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her. The cracking sound from earlier... it was Terressa’s body being flung and smashed onto the wooden floor. And now the silver dagger floated midair, hovering with its tip aimed straight at her.

"No!!" ’Whisney, stop! Don’t hurt her!’

["She hurt you. Twice. She stabbed my bead’s host. If the host dies, the bead dies too. Do you even know what that would cost me?"]

’Can’t you see she’s being possessed?! She’s not herself. If you kill her—’

But Lethia couldn’t finish. Her throat tightened, her chest overwhelmed by the chaos unraveling in front of her.

’Can’t you just hurt whatever it is that’s possessing her?!’

["Hmm... Why should a divine being like me bother with sparing a weak mortal? And whatever’s inside her... ugh, that disgusting thing is from the underworld."]

Lethia gritted her teeth. The fox hadn’t changed at all. She was still the same arrogant, egocentric bitch.

The dagger’s tip finally brushed against the spot on Terressa’s collarbone, where she’d been branded.

"Arrgghhhh..." Terressa let out a blood-curdling scream. Her body locked up, rigid, shaking with the force of pain and resistance, but completely unable to move.

Lethia frowned as she held Caelum’s neck, her fingers pressing gently to feel for a pulse. Her eyes sparkled with the faintest flicker of hope when she felt it—his heartbeat pulsing weakly but still there.

’Whisney... please, let’s just focus on saving Caelum. Help me. Just knock her out and we can deal with her later. Now, can you save him?’

["The dagger was poisoned. He needs the antidote. Make her talk. She must know where it is."]

Lethia’s gaze darted to Terressa’s body, still convulsing violently, the veins around her face and neck bulging.

She wasn’t sure if Terressa was even sane enough to give an answer, but she had no choice. She had to try.

Bracing herself with one hand over her aching stomach—tight from the fear and the tension—Lethia pushed herself to her feet and took a step forward.

Clap!

Clap!

Clap!

A slow, deliberate clap stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned toward the doorway.

Her teary eyes widened in fury. She let out a bitter scoff. This is the danger that Caelum warned her about, and was now standing smugly before her eyes.

"What a fascinating show... Seems the oracle didn’t lie after all. You do have some kind of superpower," Varrel sneered, stepping toward her with that twisted little smirk she despised.

The sharp clang of metal made her glance to the side—the silver dagger dropped to the floor. The orange dome that had shielded her and Caelum vanished in an instant. Terressa collapsed beside them, limp and powerless.

Then, a woman appeared, kneeling beside Terressa. Her long black hair was tied into a high ponytail, her neck adorned with necklaces of precious stones.

Lethia watched as the silver dagger dissolved, swallowed by a swirl of black smoke. That was enough to confirm that the woman was the witch. The one behind the black magic. The one controlling everything from the shadows.

Lethia turned her gaze back to Varrel. Rage surged through her blood, but it wasn’t alone. Confusion bloomed right alongside it.

The corner of her eye twitched when she caught sight of the figure behind Varrel. ’What the hell was Adam doing there? Why the fuck was he there?’

"Adam..." she called, her voice weak, hoarse. A chill swept through her skin, leaving her speechless.

She lowered her gaze, a bitter chuckle slipping past her lips, laced with a sigh of quiet, broken realization.

One by one, she started to unravel the twisted thread of this chaos laid out in front of her. And it all led to one brutal truth—she’d walked into this trap by chasing her own desire. And once again, the people she trusted turned their blades on her. They used that desire to snare her. ’Since when? How? Why?’ But did any of that even matter now?

She turned to look at Caelum again, his face paler than ever, his lips drying out, darkening into a bluish tint.

Her heart cracked open at the sight.

The tears just kept falling, her teeth biting down hard on her lip until she tasted metal on her tongue—and even that wasn’t enough to wake her from this nightmare.

’Whisney... is the antidote really the only way?’

["Yes. I can’t neutralise the poison myself."]

That answer twisted her chest tight like a vice.

Her eyes snapped to Varrel, whose smug face was practically drenched in triumph. "Give me the antidote!" Her voice cracked like a whip—commanding, sharp.

Varrel chuckled. "You haven’t changed a bit. That’s—"

"Give. Me. The antidote!" Her fists clenched, nails digging in so deep they threatened to break skin. She was ready to punch him in the face, but—

She exhaled. Heavily. Bitterly. And then let go.

"I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to do..." her voice dropped lower, worn and trembling, "...just save him first. Please."

Varrel broke out in a loud laugh. "Oh, never did I imagine the day would come when the almighty Lethia would beg, and bend down for it."

Lethia clenched her jaw in seething irritation. Swallowing her pride was like swallowing glass. "Varrel, please..." she forced out, each syllable burning her tongue.

The smile on Varrel’s face faltered, the laugh lines fading. "But that only pisses me off more," he said, his voice dipping into something darker. "Watching you beg... for another man. What is it? Do you like him too? You sure got busy whoring around after the divorce."

Rage flared up her spine. She wanted nothing more than to slam her fist into his smug face, to spit on him, to kick him in the balls until he could never use them again. But she couldn’t—she had to hold it in, for Caelum. Her breath shook as she swallowed the fury clawing up her throat.

"Do you want me to whore around with you too?" she hissed. "Is that it? Do you feel left behind?"

Varrel’s smirk deepened. "What good is it for me to save him? Why the fuck should I?"

Lethia’s breathing turned heavy. Then her eyes flicked to the floor, where shattered wooden debris lay in jagged pieces. Without a second thought, she bent down and snatched one, sharp, splintered, pointed at the end.

She raised it to her neck and stabbed it in just enough to draw blood, a single dark drop trailing down her skin.

"You didn’t go through all this just to watch me die, did you?" Her voice cut through the air, quiet but firm.

"If that’s what this is, then just let me end it myself." She drove the shard a little deeper. The pain stung, sharp and hot. She bit her tongue, unsure of how far Varrel would let her go.

Maybe he really did want her dead.

But then, he planted Adam as a spy. And when he mentioned her ’super power’... no, she was sure. Varrel wanted something more. He had an agenda, and her life still played a part in it.