CHAPTER 171: MONSTER CRACKLE

Aria stood there with Harriet standing right behind her. Jared also stood, annoyed to look around and find no other chair—something he would have instantly moved to sit on. But his mind was still on this when the huge doors of the hall were flung open, their heavy wood groaning as they moved, and people slowly began to walk in one after the other.

Jared recognized Zyren’s lords, his gaze narrowing with surprise that Zyren felt a need to send for them. A deep frown slowly crept onto his face, his lips pressing into a line, until his gaze settled on his own council members—whom he had brought with him—walking in one after the other with confused expressions on their faces. The room began to fill with quiet murmurs, shoes echoing against the polished floor, creating a tense rhythm beneath the silence.

They all saw Zyren sitting on a throne he never sat on, and beside him was a vampire guard who was clearly carrying a bleeding human. None of the people who entered glanced at the human again, almost like he was air, a ghostly presence no one acknowledged. But if any of them had looked closely, they would have noticed the fear and sneer that flashed across his face. His blood-matted hair clung to his forehead as he lowered his head and continued to groan in pain, a harsh, trembling sound from deep in his throat, as the Zygon swore loudly in his mind.

’I’m going to die!’ he screamed as loud as he could in his thoughts, hoping—desperately—that someone, anyone, part of the Zygon leaders would save him. But at the same time, he was fully aware that it was impossible.

His heart pounded painfully in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps. He couldn’t fathom why else Zyren would bother to bring him there instead of to the healer’s section of the castle. Worse, he couldn’t understand what he could have done wrong. His body trembled violently, skin pale from blood loss, muscles twitching.

He had been picked to come to the castle as Clay’s replacement, simply because of how good his shapeshifting was. Yet he hadn’t even made it into the castle before the werewolf had ripped off his arm after attacking the other humans.

’He’s crazy! I was just unlucky to meet a crazy person!’ he thought bitterly to himself, teeth clenched, blood drying along his neck. He tried recalling—again and again—what he could have done wrong but came up with nothing.

It wasn’t until all of them were standing right in front of him, their feet stopping one after another like a wave breaking against stone, that Zyren finally settled his distant gaze on them. With a flick of his fingers, he gestured for the guard to drop the human in front of him on the stairs, while the rest stood at the bottom of the steps, hushed and unmoving.

The human hit the ground with a heavy thud, groaning as he landed on his side. Blood pooled slowly beneath him.

"What’s this about!" Jared suddenly snapped, to everyone’s shock—only for them to realize, with a jolt, that he could. Especially since he was also a king.

"I have better things to do!" Jared continued, his voice echoing with irritation. This time, they were truly stunned—especially since he was the only reason they were there. Murmurs stirred the air again like wind through dry leaves. But instead of Zyren showing any annoyance at his sudden outburst, Zyren seriously nodded his head instead, as though he agreed with the sentiment.

"He has been bleeding for a while now, but he doesn’t seem to be dying," Zyren pointed out calmly, his words dropping like cold water into the silence—something the rest of them quickly noticed. Aria’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as she glanced at the body. Harriet blinked, her posture tense.

’Shouldn’t we be relieved and sending him off to be treated!’ Aria wondered, her chest tightening. Her thoughts were written all over her face in a way that showed she wasn’t even trying to hide it, even as she heard Zyren continue to speak, this time turning to address the man directly.

"What’s your name?" Zyren asked, his voice smooth, almost gentle.

The man was visibly shocked, his bruised face twitching in confusion. He had expected Zyren to instantly interrogate him about their race, about their plans—especially since it was clear to him that Zyren was confident he wasn’t human, even if he had no idea how he knew.

"Ma-Mael!" he rasped out, his voice raw, each word sounding like it was being dragged out of him. He was using the last of his energy to survive, breath catching painfully in his throat.

"I—I have done no-nothing wrong! I am nothing but a driver!" he gasped out in pain, his voice trembling, while still clenching on to the part of his body where his arm should have been. Blood had soaked into the fabric at his side, and his body heaved with exhaustion.

But while everyone had been expecting Zyren to ask another question—something that was already surprising—the door was opened again. In walked another guard, this one holding the severed arm that Jared had torn off. He bowed low to Zyren and, without a word, placed the arm on the ground before turning around to leave.

At this point, Mael instantly lost all hope.

His eyes widened as he stared at the arm. His breathing quickened, panic overtaking pain. He moved—desperately trying to leap to his feet, to take his final stand, to die fighting, to take one person with him before he died. But his body trembled.

His arms buckled.

His legs refused to move.

His body refused to obey him.

He froze.

His eyes widened further as he realized that moving his eyes was all he could do—and nothing more. A terrifying stillness gripped him. His heart thundered in his chest, loud enough that he thought it might burst. Slowly, he fixed his gaze on Zyren, whose smile had begun to stretch into something darker, something that made Mael’s blood run colder.

A devilish grin, wide and patient.

"Go ahead. Transform," Zyren said.

Jared’s eyes widened in instant understanding as he realized what Zyren was up to. Not only did he believe that the man was a monster—he was sure. Something that surprised Jared, since he had no clue how Zyren could be so certain.

The lords were equally surprised, whispering quietly among themselves.

Aria felt her hands begin to shake. Her breath hitched, and her chest felt tight. Instinctively, she took multiple steps back, boots echoing against the floor, the memory of the monster she had seen resurfacing—no matter how hard she tried to bury it. The scent of blood, the sound of snarling flesh, it all came back.

Aria took even more steps back in fear.

Harriet, for her part, was the most confused. She hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the monster. She was yet to understand what the others feared. So while the tension in the room thickened like fog, with everyone on edge and wary, Harriet was the only one that still looked ahead and saw Mael as a human being—a human that was being maltreated.

Only to be taken aback as Mael, the maltreated human, suddenly erupted into a loud and crackling laughter. It echoed through the entire hall—sharp, mocking, and echoing in cruel waves. The sound was unnatural, twisted. Loud enough to reverberate through the ground and rattle the bones.

His body was still human. His back was turned toward them, shoulders trembling, but they couldn’t see his face.

Zyren, on the other hand, could.

And he wasn’t surprised to see a mocking expression on the face of the monster who had clearly decided to die as a human until his last breath.