Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 91

MAXIMUS' POV

I should have walked away.

Closed the book. Left the room. Pretended I never saw it.

But I didn't.

Because something deep inside me—something restless, and stubborn—refused to listen.

The red book sat in front of me, silent and heavy, the unlocked padlock hanging loose at its side. The faint mark on my thumb still stung from where my blood had fallen.

I stared at it for a long time, the only sound in the room the low hiss of the dying fire.

Don't do it, a voice inside me whispered. Whatever's inside—it's not meant for you.

But I couldn't stop.

My fingers brushed the edge of the cover. It was warm, almost alive beneath my touch. The warmth crept slowly into my skin, spreading up my wrist like a pulse.

My heart pounded harder with every second.

I drew in a slow breath, then flipped the book open.

The first page was blank.

Just white paper. Empty.

I frowned, leaning closer. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Then, before I could blink, something slammed into my chest.

The force stole the breath from my lungs. My vision blurred. The air turned thick, heavy, electric.

The lamp flickered—and the world fell away.

I was no longer in the royal study.

Everything around me glowed—silver mist swirling like smoke caught in moonlight. My boots didn't touch the floor; there was no floor. Just endless fog stretching in every direction.

And in the middle of it, something began to form.

A throne.

And on that throne—a woman.

Not just any woman.

She was otherworldly. Her skin shimmered like light on water, her hair cascading down her shoulders in waves of silver. A gown of white silk clung to her like mist.

I didn't need anyone to tell me who she was.

The Moon Goddess.

Even from where I stood, I could feel her power pressing against my skin, heavy and pure.

Dozens of figures knelt before her, their heads bowed low. I could hear whispers—soft prayers carried through the air.

My knees almost buckled on their own. My body reacted before my mind caught up, forcing me to lower my head.

I didn't dare look her in the eyes.

The silence around us was deep. I could almost hear the beat of her heart in the light itself.

And then, the scene changed.

The silver light darkened. The mist turned black.

A scream split the air.

Now I was standing in the middle of chaos.

Flames. Smoke. Blood.

The throne was gone. The goddess was gone. All that remained was a battlefield soaked in light and shadow.

Two women fought in the center. Their blades clashed, sparks bursting with every strike. The power coming from them made the air tremble.

One of them moved with grace—terrible, precise. The other staggered, wounded but fierce.

Her golden hair was tangled, streaked with dirt and blood. Her gown was torn. Desperation twisted her expression as she raised her sword again, shouting words I couldn't hear.

The other woman struck.

Steel flashed.

The wounded woman gasped.

The sword pierced her chest.

Her scream tore through me like lightning.

She fell to her knees, hands clutching the blade buried in her heart. Her hair fell forward, covering her face, and when her body hit the ground—everything went silent again.

I stood frozen, every muscle locked. I wanted to move but I couldn't.

The air rippled—and the world changed again.

Now there was only darkness.

A woman stood before a tall mirror. I could see her back—long black hair, pale shoulders, a white gown that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

She lifted her head.

But the reflection in the mirror... wasn't her.

It wasn't anything.

Just a hollow void.

An empty, endless black.

The air turned cold. I could feel my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

Then, slowly, the darkness in the mirror moved.

It turned. It looked at me.

My breath caught.

The woman in front of the mirror froze too.

And then—like something had pulled invisible strings—she turned her head.

Her eyes met mine.

The darkness behind her stretched, swallowing the edges of the room. The mirror cracked from within, black veins spreading through the glass like ink.

I stumbled back, choking on air that suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

She could see me. She saw me.

And the look in her eyes—cold, knowing, ancient—made my blood run to ice.

Then the world shattered.

I was somewhere else once again.

A forest. Quiet. Peaceful.

Sunlight slipped through the trees in golden strands, and the sound of birds filled the air.

A woman knelt in a small clearing.

She was tending to a wounded deer, her hands gentle, her lips moving in soft whispers. Blood stained her fingers, but her touch was full of warmth.

Something about her made my chest tighten.

I stepped closer, my heart pounding.

Then she turned.

Her eyes met mine.

Emilia.

It was her.

My throat went dry. I couldn't speak, couldn't move.

She smiled at me—soft, pure, the kind of smile that could make a storm go still.

The world faded around her. For a moment, there was nothing but that smile and the sound of my own heartbeat.

Then another voice broke through the air.

A woman's voice.

Calling out a name, and Emilia turned to her.

Before I could understand what it meant, the scene collapsed.

The sound of a slam echoed through my head.

I gasped, blinking hard, and suddenly I was back in the study.

The fire had gone out. The room was silent except for my own ragged breathing.

The red book lay closed on the desk. The padlock was sealed again, as if it had never been opened.

For a few seconds, I couldn't move. My chest rose and fell too fast, my heart still racing from what I'd just seen.

I stared at the book, half expecting it to start glowing again.

It didn't.

It just sat there—quiet, harmless, pretending innocence.

My hands were trembling.

I looked down and realized I'd dug my nails into my palms so hard that my skin had broken. Tiny spots of blood dotted my hands.

I wiped them on my sleeve and took a shaky breath.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered.

No answer.

Only silence.