Chapter 177

“They know their village and its surroundings intimately,” Odalys replied sharply. “You chase them, catch someone, and they deny it—what then?”

Stellan fell silent, his mind turning over her words.

“Yeah, even if we see someone, it doesn’t prove they attacked Freya earlier,” Selah added, voicing the doubt they all shared.

Odalys didn’t respond. Instead, she treated Freya’s wounds. Stellan and Selah watched, their concern evident.

“Did you touch him?” Odalys asked suddenly, her voice cool and probing.

Her question startled them both. They looked at each other in confusion.

Freya, however, grinned playfully and winked at Odalys. She lifted the hand marked with Odalys’s blood-written talisman. “I pushed him with this hand,” she said lightly.

“Good. That’s all you needed to do,” Odalys replied, smiling and tapping Freya’s forehead. “Weren’t you scared earlier?”

“What’s there to be scared of? You’re here!” Freya responded confidently, her trust in Odalys evident.

Stellan and Selah exchanged glances, realization dawning.

“So you knew someone was in the room,” Selah said, surprised. “You were aware of it the whole time?”

Stellan’s tone was more accusatory than a question. He’d figured it out: Odalys had been a step ahead.

“From the moment we returned, I sensed something was off,” Odalys explained coolly. “I heard faint breathing, and Freya had a bloodshed warning tied to her, meaning someone was targeting her. That’s why I marked her hand with the talisman. As soon as they tried to hurt her, the magic would trigger. They wouldn’t even know what hit them.”

“Don’t worry,” she continued with a sneer. “We don’t need to chase them. They’ll come to us, begging me to save them.” Her confidence was chilling. The group remained silent, processing this revelation. Meanwhile, online viewers panicked:

[“What?! I just went to the bathroom, and everything’s gone crazy!”] [“Was there a live feed in the room? Who was there?!”] [“Is it really targeting Freya? Please protect her!”]

The atmosphere had shifted dramatically. What had seemed a casual meal had turned dark. Tension was palpable, and no one knew what to expect. Some were terrified; others were curious.

As they processed this, they heard footsteps approaching from the next room.

Sophia’s voice rang out, laced with feigned concern: “What happened? Did you guys have a man?”

Her question made everyone turn to look at her.

Realizing how her words sounded, Sophia waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I was just joking! I thought I heard screams.” She forced a nervous laugh, retreating behind Atlas to hide her anxiety. However, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes didn't go unnoticed.

Odalys’s gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing. Sophia’s sudden shift only fueled her suspicion.

Clearly uncomfortable under Odalys’s stare, Sophia stammered, “I’ll just go wash the dishes.” She hurried away, Atlas following.

But Francis and Finnian remained, exchanging a look of understanding.

“Something’s off with Sophia,” Francis remarked quietly. He hadn’t worn rose-colored glasses regarding Sophia. He’d always been outside the group’s dynamics, observing more than others.

“You know she’s manipulative,” Finnian said solemnly, meeting Odalys’s gaze. “I’ve had my own experience. A few days ago, I drank water she gave me, and I got sick.” He shook his head. “Be careful. I’m leaving, but watch your back.”

Finnian left quickly. Francis lingered, weighing the situation.

“Can I help? I’m a man, maybe I can distract or keep watch,” he offered, more from duty than desire.

Odalys gave him a long, assessing look before gesturing him closer. After a brief conversation, his expression shifted to surprise. “Alright. I understand. I’ll go do that.” He left, leaving the others more uncertain than ever.

Freya, trying to lighten the mood, jumped up. “Let’s play cards! We never finished the last round.”

Odalys stopped her. “Not today,” she said, her voice darkening.

A loud rumble of thunder sounded. The sky had darkened rapidly.

“It’s going to rain?” Selah asked, peering out the window. “It was sunny a moment ago.”

She froze. “Come look at this,” she called, her voice strained.

They rushed to the window, seeing bloodstains.

Stellan’s expression was grim. “So, the person hiding in your room got injured.”

Freya paused, looking at the blood. “Wait, maybe it was the talisman,” she murmured. “Maybe it became a weapon when they attacked me.”

The door burst open. Rafael Nielsen entered. His face was ashen, his eyes bloodshot with anger and fear. He stopped, his gaze fixed on Odalys with unsettling intensity.

“What are you?” His voice was thick with fury.

Selah shuddered, remembering his attempts to forcibly drag Sophia into a room and a disturbing late-night incident involving her clothing. The disgust was undeniable.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” Odalys responded with a cool laugh, pulling up a chair and sitting down, seemingly unfazed. Rafael stood before her, staring with a look of disbelief. Her calm, almost indifferent expression made him uneasy, and the sense of dread gripping him only grew stronger. Blood began to seep from his chest, soaking his clothes. After being wounded earlier, he’d gone home to treat the injury. Just as he finished dressing the wound, it had torn open again. He couldn't believe it, but he applied more medicine, hoping it would help. Yet, as the medicine dried, he was terrified. Each time he treated the wound, it seemed to get worse. Twice he tried to fix it, but what had started as a small cut was now the size of a bowl. Only then did he realize something was seriously wrong. Normally, medicine would stop the bleeding, but not this time. The more he treated it, the worse it became, and a deep, inexplicable panic took hold. That was when he rushed to find answers.

“My wound—this was you,” Rafael’s eyes glinted with malice. “You and your people, you’re behind this! You’re the one calling the shots.”