The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 422

Chapter 422: Blood Of Verners

Oriana and Yorian directed their attention to the slowly swinging door, which had now opened fully, revealing the dark room bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight and shrouded in a thick fog. A tall figure stood in the dark room, trying to take at least a single step ahead with much effort, his weak body seemingly intent on departing the room.

In the midst of the obscurity, moonbeams streamed in through the window behind him, his figure cloaked in an aura of solemnity, resembling a lost soul wandering through the abyss.

Oriana’s heart sank, her fists clenching in tighter to see the figure like this. This time, she wasted no moments waiting and moved resolutely toward the enigmatic figure in that room. Yorian offered no resistance, recognizing that this was Oriana’s only opportunity to enter that room.

With determination, Oriana approached Arlan, reaching out to steady his swaying form, even as it radiated an aura of evil dark magic. His tall, unsteady frame found support in her embrace, the familiar scent seemingly comforting him. His heavy-lidded eyes struggled to focus on her, attempting to clear his foggy mind.

"Blood of Verners?" a woman’s voice reverberated in the room. "I smell the blood of the Verner family."

Upon hearing these words, Arlan reacted as though jolted by an electric shock. With every ounce of strength remaining in his weakened body, he pushed Oriana away, his words gritted through clenched teeth.

"Go away."

Oriana was taken aback by his sudden rejection, but it was precisely the response she had anticipated from Arlan. If he hadn’t been so feeble at that moment, he might have acted even more forcefully against her for intruding and exposing the secret he had carried in silence for so long.

Collecting herself, Oriana met his gaze, and he regarded her as if she had committed a grave sin.

"I told you to leave," he managed to say with great effort, but Oriana remained resolute, disregarding his words.

She maintained her calm and moved her gaze toward the part of the room from which the voice had emanated, shrouded in eerie darkness even though the moonlight seeped into the rest of the chamber.

"Who are you?" Oriana inquired, her eyes fixed on the obscurity, uncertain of the witch’s exact location. There was not a tinge of fear in her. Instead her overwhelming emotion was anger, a burning desire to confront and eliminate this mysterious witch.

In response, all she received was a taunting, malevolent laughter from the woman, its sinister timbre sending shivers down her spine.

Arlan, unable to contain his impatience at finding Oriana there, struggled with each step he took, fighting to remain upright. He reached out to grasp her shoulder, relying on her for support. His bloodshot eyes blazed with anger as he fixed his gaze upon her. "Didn’t you...hear me?" He attempted to pull her away with him, but his weakness undermined his efforts.

Oriana clutched his hand to stop him, then looked into his eyes, which had somehow managed to kept opened.

"I’m not going anywhere," she stated firmly.