Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 83

Third Person POV

The heavy doors burst open with a sound that echoed down the empty hall—it was sharp, loud, and alive, like the world itself had just been startled awake.

A woman stepped through.

Her laughter followed—the kind that didn't sound right in a place like this. It was bright, almost musical, but beneath it was something sharp, something wrong. It bounced off the marble walls and danced through the air like smoke.

"Wakey, wakey," she said, her voice sing-song and playful. "It's time, everyone."

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked further inside. The corridor stretched endlessly before her—cold, gray, and covered in dust that sparkled faintly under the dim light. The air smelled of old stone and forgotten secrets.

To anyone else, it would've seemed like an empty place. Silent. Lifeless.

But it wasn't.

The woman stopped in front of a tall brown door, its wood cracked and weathered. She placed her palm against it. The surface felt cold—and a faint pulse ran through it, like a heartbeat trapped inside. Her smile widened.

"Still sleeping?" she whispered softly, leaning in close. "How rude."

She turned the handle.

The door creaked open, slow and heavy, as if something on the other side was reluctant to let go. A deep hum filled the air. Then came a whisper—a faint sound that crawled up her spine.

Inside, shadows moved. They slithered along the walls like ink in water. Strange shapes shifted in the dark, their edges unclear, their voices just a little too quiet to understand.

To the ordinary eye, the room would have seemed empty. But to her, it was full—alive with things that shouldn't exist.

She stepped inside.

The air changed instantly. It grew thicker, colder. The walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like lungs.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "Mmm," she said softly. "Still smells like misery."

Then she felt it—a sudden chill behind her. Her lips curved into a smile before she even turned around.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said.

A shape was forming behind her. A shadow—a tall, twisted outline that rippled against the light like smoke caught in wind. Its voice came low and rough, like two stones grinding together.

"What do you want me to do for you, Mistress?"

She turned to face it. Her eyes gleamed, catching the faint light like a predator's.

"Oh, you know me," she said, her tone soft, teasing. "I like chaos. I like fun."

Her hand brushed over the dusty table beside her, tracing the edge with one long finger. "The palace has been far too quiet. Everyone's getting comfortable. Boring."

The shadow tilted its head. "So... what shall I do?"

Before she could answer, another voice rose from the dark—silky, cold, amused.

"Why pick him, Mistress?" it asked. "You know I'm better at this. I'm much more fun."

From the corner of the room, another figure began to take form—a woman-shaped outline this time, but her face was nothing but darkness. When she moved, it was like her body was made of mist. She smiled, a faint glimmer of teeth cutting through the dark. "Let me do it. It's been so long since you've let me out."

The first shadow hissed, a sound like rust scraping metal. "You're boring, shut up,"

"Make me," she purred.

The Mistress only laughed. The sound cut through the tension like silver. "Enough, both of you," she said lightly. "You'll all have your turn."

Then she turned toward the dark wall at the back of the room, her tone shifting—lower, colder. "But not yet."

The air grew heavy again. Something stirred behind that wall. The temperature dropped until frost began to spread across the floor, cracking softly beneath her heels.

She smiled. "Wake up, my sweet."

A deep rumble answered her—slow, powerful. The wall itself began to tremble, and faint lines of red light crawled across its surface like veins.

Then, silence.

And out of the darkness came a third voice. Deep. Calm. Terrifying.

"You called."

Her grin widened. "Of course I did. I missed you."

The shadow that emerged this time was different—darker than the others. It moved like smoke but carried weight, presence. The air bent around it. When it spoke, even the other shadows grew still.

"What do you wish of me, Mistress?"

She turned to face it, her expression soft and dangerous all at once. "You, my darling, are going to make things interesting."

The creature tilted its head. "How interesting?"

Her eyes glowed faintly gold. "Let's just say the game's too quiet. I want noise. I want chaos. I want... drama."

The word echoed through the air, followed by another ripple of cold laughter—hers, and the others'. The sound filled the room like a storm rolling through.

The smaller shadow spoke again, eager, hungry. "Whose life shall we touch this time?"

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she walked toward the table at the center of the room. On it sat an old mirror, its surface fogged and cracked. She brushed away the dust with her hand.

The mirror shimmered faintly—then came alive.

Light rippled across the surface, and faint images began to form—faces, places, memories. A woman lying in a hospital bed. A man smiling beside her.

Emilia.

And beside her bed—the lilies.

"Oh," the Mistress said softly, tilting her head. "Look at her. So sweet. So fragile."

The shadows leaned closer to see.

"She's been through enough," the first shadow murmured mockingly. "You want to hurt her more?"

The Mistress smiled—a small, cruel smile. "No," she said softly. "Not hurt. Twist."

She lifted her finger and touched the mirror's surface. It rippled under her touch like water.

"Her heart's already breaking," she said. "All I want is to see what happens when it finally shatters."

Her reflection in the mirror shifted as she spoke. Her face blurred and changed—her eyes glowing brighter, her smile stretching unnaturally wide. "Let's see what happens when everyone starts losing control."

The female shadow let out a laugh—sharp and beautiful. "You mean him, don't you? The beast."

The Mistress's eyes flicked toward her, glittering. "Maximus," she whispered, almost lovingly. "The man who fights fate."

The male shadow chuckled darkly. "Ah. The cursed one."

She nodded. "He's been holding himself back for too long. It's time someone... pushed."

She leaned closer to the mirror again, and the image changed—Maximus now, standing in the forest, his expression hard and unreadable.

"Stop toying," one of the shadows warned. "Too much interference could draw attention."

The Mistress turned her head slowly, her golden eyes gleaming. "Oh, darling," she said sweetly, "attention is exactly what I want."

Her voice softened, becoming almost a lullaby. "Let's make them dance for me."

The shadows moved closer, circling her like smoke. The air pulsed with power now—dark, ancient, alive. The sound of whispers filled the room, building and twisting until it became a hum, deep and heavy.

She began to laugh again—quiet at first, then louder, until the whole hall trembled.

Then, silence.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft again, gentle as silk.

"Go," she said to the darker shadow. "Whisper in his ear. Make him doubt what he knows. Make him question what he feels. Show him his fears."

The shadow bowed slightly. "As you wish."

"And you," she said, turning to the other. "Play with her dreams. The little healer's mind is fragile. Fill it with what she dreads most."

The second figure smiled, her teeth flashing white in the dark. "Gladly."

The Mistress stepped back and watched as they both melted into smoke and vanished into the air, leaving only the faint echo of their laughter behind.

For a while, she stood there alone. The mirror continued to glow faintly, reflecting faces that weren't really there. Her own reflection shifted again, her beauty warping, her smile curving into something darker.

Her hand brushed against the table again, leaving behind a faint mark of frost.

"Let's see," she murmured, "how much a heart can take before it breaks."

A faint wind blew through the hall, stirring the dust. The door behind her groaned softly. Somewhere far away, thunder rolled—slow, deep, like the growl of something waking.

She turned toward the sound, her dress sweeping behind her, her golden eyes catching the light.

"Things have been too quiet," she said softly. "Too safe."

Her smile returned—beautiful and terrifying all at once. "It's time to make things... interesting."