บททั้งหมดของ CHASING MONSTERS: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The days passed like dripping water in a cavern, slow, echoing, impossible to ignore. I remained locked in my chambers, guarded on either side by wolves who never spoke to me. If not for Betsy and Agatha, I might have lost myself to the silence.The fever came in waves. It seared through me until I thought my skin would peel away, then left me trembling with cold, soaked in sweat. The maids whispered about the King’s bite, about poison still burning in my blood. Even they didn’t believe I should be alive.When I was strong enough to rise, I took to the window. From there, I watched the palace grounds—wolves going about their daily lives. Mothers chasing children, merchants calling their wares, soldiers sparring in the yards. Wolves, yes, but more than that. Families. People.It was then I noticed the marks. Pale scars curling along throats, like moons etched into skin. Many bore them, some fresh and raw, others pale and healed.“What are those?” I asked Betsy one afternoon, pointing to

The next day the guards came early, carrying the same iron-gray shackles that had been forced around my wrists yesterday. They were heavy, not burning like silver should, but smothering, pressing down on every breath. My wrists already ached at the memory of them.Betsy fussed with my cloak, muttering her displeasure. “They should not treat you so,” she whispered.Agatha only shook her head, her mouth tight, as if reminding herself not to speak too freely.We stepped into the corridor. The guards kept their distance, always watching, always reminding me of what I was: a captive. And yet, for a moment, as we walked through the castle’s long stone halls, the sunlight falling through high windows almost felt like freedom.That illusion shattered when laughter rang ahead. Veronica.She stood with two of her ladies, draped in silk the color of crushed roses, her beauty as precise and merciless as a blade. Her golden hair was coiled into intricate braids, jewels gleaming at her ears. Her lip

The morning light slanted pale across the stone floor when the door opened, hinges groaning. In stepped the plain woman with the satchel, Maera, the healer. Her lined face betrayed neither joy nor disdain, only the tired gravity of someone who had seen too many wounds, too many sickbeds.Betsy and Agatha slipped in behind her, their arms full of linens. Betsy beamed at me as if she could will me well by smiling alone.Maera set her satchel on the table and sat across from me. “Your uncle William has pressed me to look in on you again,” she said, her voice low, almost grudging. “I’ve spoken with the elder healer.”I straightened on the bed, clutching the blanket tighter. “And?”Her sharp eyes studied me, weighing every word. “We cannot explain how you survived the King’s bite. No wolf, no human ever has. That leaves us with only one possibility.”The silence pressed heavy, so I forced myself to ask, “Which is?”“That you are half-wolf,” Maera said bluntly. “Half-human, half-werewolf. Th

(Xavier's Pov)The air in the healers’ wing was thick with heat, despite the buckets of water and the damp cloths strewn everywhere. Steam curled from the braziers, mingling with the acrid scent of fever-sweat and herbs.I stepped into the chamber, my presence filling the space. Both Sophie and Ronan lay on separate cots, their bodies wracked with fever. Their skin gleamed with sweat, hair plastered to their foreheads. The healers worked tirelessly, dabbing cloths to their faces and chests, whispering prayers to the goddess as if words alone could turn back poison.But it wasn’t only the poison. I could see it. Feel it. Sophie burned hotter than Ronan, her breath ragged, her pulse erratic. Something deeper stirred in her.“She suffers more,” one of the healers murmured, wringing out a cloth before laying it across Sophie’s brow.I moved closer, looming over her bed. Her lips parted slightly as she shivered, her fists clenching even in sleep. She looked fragile. Mortal. But beneath it,

My body wracked with fever and sickness, though weak, I could feel myself recovering. I could see that the girl burned.Not from the poison alone, though it ravaged her too. No, there was something deeper, writhing beneath her skin, like fire trying to claw its way out. She writhed and thrashed against the sheets while the healers worked with herbs and poultices.“She’s suffering more than most,” one healer murmured, wiping Sophie’s brow with a cloth.“Because she’s not only poisoned,” the elder healer replied, her face grim. “Her wolf is pushing through. She’s nearing her first shift.”That made me stiffen. “First shift?”The elder’s gaze flicked to me. “At eighteen, a wolf breaks for the first time. The fever comes before, the body fights itself. It is pain like nothing else. But this girl” she shook her head “her wolf rises early. The King’s bite has stirred what already lay dormant. The poison battles her too. That is why she suffers twice over.”I remembered my own first shift all