Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 125

EMILIA'S POV

The first thing I felt was weight.

A heavy, suffocating weight pinning my body down.

When I opened my eyes, everything was blurry—shapes bleeding into darkness, shadows swimming like liquid. My lashes fluttered, slow and weak, and for a moment I didn't understand where I was...or why my limbs felt so heavy.

What happened?

Why does everything feel...wrong?

My last memory came back in pieces—the room, the cold chill, that strange sense of being watched. My breath hitching. The hair on my arms rising.

Then—

Nothing.

Just a soft wave of warmth running through my veins, so warm it felt like it lulled me to sleep. My knees buckling. The ground rushing up.

And then—darkness.

I blinked harder, trying to force my vision to sharpen. Slowly, the blur began to pull itself together. A ceiling. Dark stone. The texture rough and cold-looking even from afar. My head throbbed as I tried to move.

My body didn't respond.

Panic punched through my chest.

I tried again—to lift my hand, my fingers, anything. But my body felt numb. Not just heavy...numb. Like I'd been dipped into ice water and left there until I couldn't feel myself anymore.

My breath came out shaky.

What...why can't I move?

I strained again, forcing every bit of strength I had into my wrists and ankles. That's when I felt it—the faint scrape of something tight digging into my skin.

Ropes.

My limbs were tied down.

A cold wave rolled through me, knocking the air out of my lungs.

Where am I?

My vision cleared further, and I realized I was lying on a slab of stone. Smooth, cold, slightly curved beneath my spine—like some kind of old, ceremonial altar. The surface pressed into my skin through my clothes, leeching warmth from my body.

My throat felt dry as I swallowed.

This can't be happening.

I sucked in a breath and tried to shift my head, but even that movement felt sluggish, like there was still some kind of drug running through my veins. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Then—

"Mistress... she's awake."

A voice. Soft.

And close.

My entire body went rigid. My eyes darted around, desperate to see where it came from — but there was nothing. Just darkness. A hollow, heavy darkness that clung to the air like smoke. I could hear my own breathing growing uneven.

No one stood near me.

No one knelt beside the altar.

No one lingered in the shadows.

But someone was there.

I felt them.

A chill crawled up my spine and settled at the base of my skull.

Silence stretched—thick, tense, suffocating—until I wondered if I had imagined the voice. My mind was hazy enough to trick me, wasn't it?

Maybe I—

The quiet broke sharply.

A door—somewhere behind me—pushed open. The sound echoed off the stone walls, long and hollow, like the room itself shuddered.

My pulse spiked.

Footsteps followed... but they weren't normal.

They were too light. Too soft. Almost weightless—like the person walking wasn't even touching the ground. Barely there. Barely human.

Every hair on my arms rose.

The footsteps drifted closer. Slow. Unhurried. Confident.

Then they stopped.

Right beside me.

I felt a presence, cold and pressing, like the temperature dropped ten degrees instantly. My breath misted faintly in the air.

Then a hand—icy, slender—touched my face.

I jerked instinctively, but my body didn't move.

"I see you're awake," a woman's voice said.

Smooth. Elegant. And chilling in a way that crawled under my skin.

Her face remained hidden in the darkness. I could only feel her breath close to my cheek, cold enough to sting.

My heart hammered painfully.

"What... do you want from me?" I forced out, my voice hoarse.

She gave a soft, eerie laugh—a sound that made my skin crawl violently.

"You?" she repeated, amusement dripping from her tone. "Come on, darling... this isn't about you."

Her fingers brushed down my cheek slowly, like she was savoring the fear trembling through me.

"This," she purred, "is about the entire werewolf race."

My breath caught.

What?

I blinked rapidly, confusion choking me. She moved slightly, her presence drifting around the altar like smoke. I could feel her cold aura following me wherever she circled.

"You don't get it, do you?" she murmured.

I didn't. I genuinely didn't.

"The moon goddess thought she could punish me," she continued, voice dripping with venom. "She thought she could strip me of everything, cast me out, and I wouldn't seek revenge."

Her fingers snapped against the stone lightly, the sound echoing like a warning shot.

"How foolish of her."

My stomach twisted painfully.

"Wh-what do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it.

She let out a long, dramatic sigh, like she was bored with my ignorance.

"The day Milandra drove a sword through my heart at the moon goddess' command..." she said, her tone darkening with every word, "I vowed I would return. And when I did, I would bring chaos to every one of her precious descendants."

My blood ran cold.

Milandra?

My mind whirled.

"I—I thought Milandra was a bad spirit," I stammered. "One that would bring destruction."

The woman laughed.

Not soft this time.

This laugh was sharp. Mocking. It cut through the room like ice breaking.

"Oh no, darling," she said, clearly amused by my confusion. "Milandra was the moon goddess' loyal dog. So stupid. So obedient. Always following orders without question."

Her tone shifted—something darker blooming beneath her words.

"And you..." I whispered. "Who are you?"

Silence.

Heavy, suffocating silence.

It stretched so long I felt my heartbeat slow, like even my chest was afraid to move. The air thickened around me, cold and unmoving, pressing down like frost.

For a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer.

Then—

"Me..." she said at last, her voice dropping into something low, almost ancient. "I was the moon goddess' worst creation."