The Devil's Cursed Witch novel Chapter 402

'No, this is just an illusion--'

Immense pain told Draven otherwise. That person stabbed his chest, the place over his heart where he had once been stabbed in his forgotten past.

Was he unable to dodge because of that face? Since he had been focusing on flushing out the toxin of Glass Mist Flower, his other senses had dulled.

However, the pain heightened his senses once more, and the effect of the Glass Mist Flower dispersed.

Draven looked at the owner of that hand, and even with a blurry vision, he could identify that the person was a woman. The hand holding the dagger let go of it and the person stepped backwards, with her fake wooden leg taking a first step back.

'Thala Grimsbane?'

Draven could not believe his own eyes.

The Witch of Destruction, the war hero of the White Witches? Why would she attack him?

No, she would never do it. Draven refused to believe she was an enemy. She was someone who cared for this kingdom and fought for its peace.

But then, he remembered the words of the vision he heard at Zelda's place--a woman with resentment would create a weapon of hatred, and she would use that weapon to stab him.

'Thala Grimsbane resents me. She has always shown her dissatisfaction towards the result of that war but...never to the extent of wanting to kill me.'

That prophetic vision of his death came to reality, but something felt off, though he could not quite put his finger on it.

His mate, was she alright?

There was no reaction from the bond. Did he do it right by coming here on his own, which saved his mate from getting harmed? If that was the case, then he would gladly embrace his death.

Draven lost all his strength and fell on the ground. Though it was but a single stab, it was draining his body's strength.

A weapon created out of pure hatred, made of divine power for the purpose of killing its intended victim. It should have the ability to destroy the energy core of even a divine beast.

His red eyes never left Thala's gaze, his gaze full of questions.

Did she hate him that much?

The Witch of Destruction looked at the fallen king with a gaze which had not a tinge of regret in it.

"Your Majesty, does it hurt?" she asked, as she stood in place, looking down at him with a quiet expression.

"Why?" he managed to force out a word through his gasps. He could feel his heartbeats slowing down.

"Why?" she repeated with deliberate slowness, chuckling a little in the end. "To make you feel what I and so many of your people had felt but could not say a word. Your Majesty, we could only swallow our helplessness because you are too overwhelmingly powerful to receive fair punishment for your sins."

Draven could only stare at her without a word, and he heard her chuckle again. "I have done my part. It's time for me to leave."

As he watched her turn around, Draven struggled to move his body, putting effort to raise his hand.