Chapter 239
ATASHA’S POV
€379
“Who are you?” I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus on the man as he stepped closer, forcing myself to memorize the way he moved. I needed something solid to anchor my thoughts to, something that would tell me what he was.
Then pain exploded behind my eyes.
4.)
It was sudden and sharp, like pressure being driven straight through my skull. I his my vision blurred. The world tilted, light stretching and smearing at the edges, and for a brief moment, it felt like my eyes were being pulled apart from the inside. My breath hitched as my fingers curled reflexively even though the ropes held me immobile.
The pain did not last long.
My ability reacted almost immediately, warmth flooding outward from my core and rushing up through my neck and into my head. The burning sensation dulled, then faded, retreating before it could settle into something permanent. When my vision cleared, my heartbeat had already steadied, and the ache behind my eyes had been reduced to a tolerable throb.
I swallowed slowly and lifted my gaze again.
The man chuckled.
“So it’s true,” he said, sounding pleased in a way that made my skin crawl. “Your ability heals you even when you don’t ask it to.”
I did not respond. I kept watching him.. He had not touched me. He had not cast anything visible. Whatever he did had been subtle enough to slip past instinct and still cause damage. Was he a witch? Something that doesn’t reek of blood and sulfur?
“Don’t force yourself,” he continued, waving a hand as if giving friendly advice. “You’re too weak right now. You cannot fight me in this state, and you already know that. It would be smarter to stop resisting and listen.”
He reached into the folds of his cloak and produced a cup. He held it up slightly, tilting it toward me.
“Are you thirsty?”
I said nothing in response.
I watched the liquid inside the cup instead, noting its color, the way it clung to the sides when he moved it. The pain behind my eyes was still present, and my ability kept smoothing it down each time it threatened to spike again. Whatever he had done was not meant to kill or cripple me. It was meant to test how fast I recovered.
The man sighed lightly when I did not answer.
“Very well,” he said. “If you won’t drink it, then I will.”
18:18 Tue, Jan 6
Chapter 239
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He lifted the cup to his lips and drained it without hesitation, his gaze never leaving my face. When he finished, he tossed the empty cup aside and immediately pulled out a small gourd, uncorking it. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the space as he poured himself another drink and took a long swallow, looking entirely too comfortable for someone standing in front of a bound prisoner.
He exhaled in satisfaction, then glanced at me again.
“Tell me,” he said casually. “Do you think you’re a monster?”
I said nothing in response. He did not seem to mind. He moved closer and sat down on a low rock beside me, close enough that I could feel his presence without him touching me. The cave fel
the miasma thicker, heavier, even though my body continued to burn it away be
Then, without warning, he reached out.
ith him there,
settle.
A dagger appeared in his hand, the blade catching the firelight as he lifted it and pressed the tip lightly against my neck. The metal was cold against my skin. He dragged it just enough to break the surface. Almost immediately, I felt a thin line of warmth as blood trickled down.
The cut closed almost immediately, skin knitting itself together as my ability erased the damage before it could deepen. The blood stopped, leaving nothing behind but a faint sting that vanished seconds later.
Seeing this, the man laughed softly.
“Hah,” he said, clearly delighted. “What a sight.”
He leaned back slightly, studying me like a curiosity he had waited a long time to find.
“I have finally met someone like me,” he continued, lifting his gourd in a mock toast. “This occasion is indeed worth celebrating.”
My face twisted before I could stop it. “What do you mean by that?” I asked. My voice came out sharper than I intended.
The man chuckled as if my reaction pleased him. He tipped the gourd to his lips again, swallowed, then set it down beside him like we were sharing a drink instead of standing on opposite sides of a knife.
Then he lifted the dagger and, with the same casual ease he had used to cut my throat a moment ago, he sliced across his own palm. I expected the wound to knit itself shut out of habit, the way mine always did.
It did not.
Instead, green liquid welled from the cut and slid down his skin in slow, thick drops.
It was not bright like paint. It was dull and sickly, as if it had been sitting in darkness for too long. The smell hit a second later, sharp enough that my stomach tightened, not like blood, not like ordinary poison either, but like something living that had learned how to rot.
My eyes narrowed. My ability stirred at the scent, not with hunger this time, but with warning.
The man watched my expression closely, then smiled wider.
18:18 Tue, Jan 6
Chapter 239
37
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“Me and you,” he said, holding his palm up so the green liquid could drip to the ground. “We are the exact opposite.”
He tilted his head as if considering the words.
“And we are destined to be with each other.”
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached as I wondered if this man was insane. Yet a part of me wanted him to speak more, tell me more of the things that he knew about me.
My gaze flicked from his palm to his face. “You-” I said, and the word came out
“Precisely,” he replied, pleased.
lood can poison.”
I stared at him in disbelief, mind moving quickly through what that meant. Blood that did not heal. Blood that harmed. Blood that did not keep the body alive the way mine did, but broke things down, corroded them, turned them into something else.
“So you…” My voice tightened. “So you’re what, a walking toxin?”
He laughed.
“I have been looking,” he said, and there was hunger in his tone now, but it was not the same kind as mine. “I have been searching for people like me in this world. People who were made wrong, and then discarded because they did not fit what they were supposed to become.”
He lifted his palm again, watching the green liquid crawl down his skin as if it fascinated him. The wound still did not close.
“Failed products,” he added, and his smile sharpened. “Abandoned by them.”
My shoulders tensed against the ropes. The words struck a nerve I did not want exposed. My throat felt tight, but I forced the question out anyway because something told me the answer mattered more than my pride. “By who?” I asked. “Abandoned by whom?”
That, for the first time, made him pause.
The amusement on his face faltered just enough to show surprise, like he had expected me to already know the name. He studied me with narrowed eyes, his expression turning curious in a way that made my skin. prickle.
“Don’t you know them?” he asked, and his voice lowered slightly. “Don’t you know who makes monsters and miracles, then throws the ones they don’t like into the dark?”
He leaned forward a little, close enough that I could see the shape of his smile under the hood.
“Or should I say,” he continued, watching me carefully. “Don’t you know who made you?”
