Chapter 226

Rafael's gaze was daring, his eyes wide with a naive, foolish clarity. Confusion deepened as he stared at her.

"Family!" Odalys bent to meet his gaze, her voice low but sharp. "Wasn't it you who killed them?"

Her words hung in the air like a thunderclap. "Do you remember how they died? Do their injuries remind you of the ones you carry?"

Rafael stiffened. The impact was like a lightning bolt to his mind.

"Injuries?" he murmured, as if grasping for meaning.

Suddenly, he spun and bolted toward the edge of the village, heading into the woods. As he fled, the house door creaked open.

An elderly man and his son emerged, spotting Odalys and the others. They paused when Odalys nodded, signaling them to follow.

"What's going on?" Orson asked, frowning.

Odalys ignored him, her eyes fixed on Rafael. Despite his age, he moved swiftly, disappearing in moments.

"That man's injuries… they look like blood that just won't stop bleeding," Percival said, his voice deep and steady.

Callum and Orson paused, shocked. His expression was thoughtful, almost contemplative.

"It looks like the poison I've been suppressing… but it's different," Percival added. "Maybe this is what Odalys was talking about—the poison stirring, growing more restless the closer I get to this place."

Orson pieced things together. "So, the source of all this… could be here?"

A cold shiver ran down his spine. His unease grew.

"Whether it is or not, we'll know soon enough. Odalys doesn't act without reason," Percival replied, his voice full of trust. His admiration for her was evident, almost protective. Callum added, "Let's see for ourselves."

They quickened their pace, following Odalys into the woods. They found Rafael kneeling, frantically digging.

"How could it not be here? I swear it was right here!" he mumbled, his voice breaking.

He dug deeper, the dirt flying. He went nearly two feet down before stopping, panting, confused. "I remember. It has to be here," he muttered, his eyes wide and frantic.

He looked up and froze, seeing Odalys and the others. His body tensed. He shot to his feet, glaring at Odalys. "Did you deceive me?"

Police sirens cut through the air. Rafael's face paled. He tried to run, but officers surged forward, surrounding him.

"Let go of me! You can't arrest me!" he screamed, thrashing, but his wrists were quickly cuffed.

The leading officer stepped forward, showing his badge. "Rafael, you're under arrest for murder, arson, and kidnapping. We have the evidence."

Rafael collapsed, shaking. "This is impossible! Where's your evidence?" he demanded, but his protests were ignored as the officers dragged him away.

As they walked toward the police car, the officer exchanged quiet words with Percival. With a respectful nod, he returned to his task.

Rafael, still struggling, twisted in fear and desperation. "Who are you? Who the hell are you?" he shouted. Before he could say more, his mouth was silenced, and he was dragged into the car.

Orson rubbed his wrist, confused. "What now?" he asked, his voice laced with unease.

Odalys glanced at the spot where Rafael had been digging, picked up a hoe, and began to dig. Percival, Callum, and Orson joined her.

Moments later, they uncovered blood-red soil, as though something had soaked into the earth, staining the ground a horrifyingly vivid color.

"What is this? It smells… like blood," Orson muttered, leaning in to sniff the air, his face contorted with disgust. The pungent, iron-rich smell hit him like a wall, and he recoiled.

Odalys dropped the hoe, gesturing to the elderly man. "Come here. Look at this."

The old man leaned over. His face drained of color. He whispered, trembling, "This… this can't be. How could it be like this?"

"This is a forbidden practice of our village," he continued, his voice shaking.

Orson and Callum exchanged a confused look, then watched as the old man collapsed, overwhelmed.

"What's going on!" Callum asked.

Odalys stood silently, her gaze complicated as she studied the blood-soaked earth. The smell of death and decay was overwhelming. She quickly turned away, covering her nose.

"This village… they live by fabric, weaving clothes for generations," she began, her voice quiet but firm. "But the raw materials they use are a secret. That secret is what made their craft so highly regarded."

"And once people became wealthy, they wanted to control the demand. So they turned to dyeing, mixing the raw materials with human blood. They added poisons, creating substances that were incredibly toxic, yet deeply intoxicating."

She paused, looking at the red earth grimly. "They infused the fabrics with these poisons. The scent of the fabric would make people hallucinate, even hurt themselves. And if the poison wasn't used on fabric…"

She took a deep breath. "If it was buried in the ground, over time, the rain would carry the poison through the earth and into the water sources. Anyone near here would die without a doubt."

Percival remained quiet for a moment. His gaze lingered on the earth, his brow furrowed.

"Why here?" he finally asked, his voice quiet but suspicious.

Odalys looked around at the silent woods, the isolation of the village settling in. "Because they wanted to control the people here. This place is remote, so even if people die, no one would come to investigate. The people here are skilled. Their work is sold to the wealthiest across the country. If something went wrong, no one would think to trace it back to this village."

Orson focused on something more sinister. "You said this poison causes hallucinations, even self-harm?"

Odalys nodded, her expression darkening. "Not only that. Many people in the area have died of leukemia, or suddenly developed cancer, and no one knows why. It might be linked to this… this poison."

Percival narrowed his eyes at the bloodstained earth, his mind working. "They targeted the rich. If someone suddenly falls ill, no one would think to check for poisoning. And cancer, leukemia—they're diseases people experience…"