The Devil's Cursed Witch novel Chapter 374

Zaria's lips curved into a sickeningly sweet smile as she looked at the weak body lying in the middle of the small grass bed tucked at the corner, its size barely enough to hold that thin naked body.

That person was a woman covered in dried blood, and if not for the small movement of her chest, one would think she was a corpse. Her wrists had thick metal cuffs which were connected to the chains attached to the stone wall.

It was the missing Divine Eagle Myra.

Her appearance bore a strong resemblance to Aureus, only her features were feminine. However, she looked so miserable at this point that even if Drayce and Morpheus were to see her, it would take them several seconds to recognize her. Her long golden hair had lost its original shine, and few of them had even fallen on the floor, and she was so thin she looked like she had been starved for a long time.

"How pretty."

Zaria entered the chamber, leisurely closing the door behind her and hanging that lamp on the hook near the door frame.

"My pretty little bird, your master has come. Won't you wake up and greet her with a song?"

The chained woman slowly turned her head to look at her visitor. Golden eyes the color of liquid gold appeared in the darkness, and at first they were unfocussed, somewhat dull even, but as soon as their owner recognized the face of the black-haired woman, hostility flashed within them.

The person she hated the most, the one she wished to kill the first chance she get—

"How are you, my dear Myra?" the witch asked like she truly cared about her wellbeing. "Did you sleep well?"

However, even though her voice sounded kind, the evil look in her eyes was unmistakable. She gazed at Myra as if she was nothing more than an object of amusement.

Myra simply turned her head back to face the wall and closed her eyes.

"Are you upset, my dear, that you missed the chance to see your son?" Zaria asked, like a gossipy relative, her tone mockingly concerned. "Alas, it was his fault. He did not know what was good for him. If only he obediently followed me, then you two would have reunited."

Myra pretended to be deaf and didn't bother to react to her provocation, but the witch continued to speak, unbothered by her silence.

"Don't worry. I am not a cruel person. See, you have been by my side for years and I have benefitted lots from you. I think of you fondly, like a friend. At the very least, I will let you see your son before he takes over your role."

Myra wanted to scream and tell her to stay away from her son, but she could not. She was very, very weak, and even breathing was a strain for her body. She needed to preserve her energy to keep on surviving.

After all the terrors she had gone through, Myra was so broken she had once thought of escaping this hell through death, but…

The only thing that kept her going was hope. A small, feeble hope that maybe, maybe she could at least see her son and her brother before she died.

"Alas! You are indeed upset," Zaria said as she let out a dramatic sigh, "and here I thought you would be grateful that you have gotten a relaxing vacation for the past few days. You really don't know how to be thankful that I won't be taking your blood until you recover sufficiently. I know you want to survive long enough to see your family. I am a very supportive friend, but tsk, you seem to be ungrateful to me.

"I am heartbroken, Myra."

Myar swallowed her anger and breathed deeply to keep her calm. Taking her blood signified this witch had a dangerous spell to cast, as the fresher the divine blood, the more powerful its effect as catalyst.

Myra didn't want this. She felt she was better off dead so her divine blood would not harm others, but at the same time, she was conflicted to disappear from this world without ever seeing her loved ones for the last time.

Though she was not getting any reaction from her, Zaria didn't mind. Myra was always like this.

When she was abducted, she tried to fight back for the first few months, but when she realized her impossible situation, she gave up resisting and played dead. Decades later, she was weakened to the point she could not even sit and would not say a word back anymore.