Arabe had passed the third room, still uncertain about the ghost’s intentions. Despite her confusion, she couldn’t halt her steps.


    Each sessive room she passed seemed even more sorrowful than thest.


    “Where are you taking me?” Arabe queried as they entered the fourth room.


    “This is where you were executed. You let him fucked you, and he still killed you,” the woman disclosed, causing Arabe to frown.


    “I don’t understand. I genuinely think you’ve got the wrong person,” Arabe insisted.


    “No, it’s you,” said the woman, gripping Arabe’s hand. Before she could pull away, Arabe’s eyes widened, witnessing shes of Allesandro the first, a woman resembling her, lying in a pool of blood, staining Allesandro the first face.


    “Did you see that?” the woman inquired, releasing Arabe’s hand.


    “I still don’t understand what’s going on,” Arabe murmured, caressing her hand.


    “You will soon,” the woman assured.


    As they continued walking, the ghost began recounting their history.


    “We were a peace-loving group, living in harmony with werewolves thanks to a truce by the werewolf goddess Selene and Pyralis, our deity. But after you found a journal by a greedy sorceress, Astralys, who ignited the rivalry, you became possessed.”


    “How do you know all this?” Arabe interrupted.


    “Because I am Ellen, your maidservant. You confided in me until you started reading that wretched journal,” Ellen exined.


    Arabe shook her head, wanting to rify that she wasn’t the one interacting with Ellen, but Ellen seemed resolute.


    “What happened next? After I was possessed?” Arabe inquired.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    The woman stared at her, eyes narrowed, and hissed, “You disrupted everything. You killed everyone for your power-hungry self.”


    “Don’t trust ghosts,” came risse’s voice behind her.


    “Thank goodness,” Arabe sighed, starting toward risse, but Ellen held her back.


    “She’s the real evil,” Ellen dered. “You shouldn’t trust anyone who brought you to the past just for their amusement.”


    “We wanted to be here,” Arabe defended.


    Ellen, despite her almost detached head, continued to narrow her eyes. “You think you wanted to be here?” she questioned.


    Before Arabe could respond, risse snapped her fingers, and Ellen evaporated. Arabe jerked backward, gasping. “You said no one could see me, but she did, and we have been talking.”


    “I forgot to mention special people can see you with a special connection,” risse exined, moving toward the door. “Let’s get out of here. Vengeful spirits areing.”


    Arabe hurried out with risse, not wanting to linger in the creepy room despite her curiosity about Ellen.


    Rounding a corner, she encountered Allesandro the first, holding a photograph with narrowed eyes. As she approached, she saw the image of a woman resembling her. Allesandro, the first, exuded hatred as if he could snuff out the woman’s life if given the chance.


    “What am I looking at?” Arabe asked risse.


    Receiving no answer, she turned and was relieved to find risse still with her. Yet, risse remained silent as a burly man with scars joined them.


    “Alpha,” he addressed Alessandro the first.


    “Did youe to stop me, Matt? You’re my Beta; you should know better,” Alessandro the first interrupted, not giving Matt a chance to respond.


    His once sea-green eyes turned golden, a snarl forming on his face. “This woman infuriates me. Why does she act so superior over thend of Ascotan? It is mine and the artifact with me-she’s delusional to think I’ll give it to her.”


    “I’m only here to remind you that she is your destined mate,” Matt exined.


    “A destined mate?” Alessandro, the first, scoffed. “She’s some kind of evil being with wings. The goddess would never give me such a mate.”


    “But it’s real. The seer confirmed it, and the conflict can be prevented if both of you get mated ande to amon understanding,” Matt pointed out.


    “No, Matt, it doesn’t work that way,” Alessandro shook his head.


    “How does it then?” Matt raised a brow. “You’re being intentionally stubborn.”


    “Am I?” Alessandro, the first snorted. “I have no intention of mating with her, and you know the reason I got the artifact-the dying pack members. The disease won’t stop if I don’t do what is right.”


    “And the right thing is war?” Matt questioned. “While growing up, I’ve heard you say many absurd things, but this is the height of it all.”


    “It’s not just about war, Matt. It’s about using her as an offering to the goddess to plead for our cause. Have you heard about her attributes? As much as I desire to kill her as soon as I see her, she is very much useful,” he said.


    “Then we leave innocent blood out of it,” Matt stated.


    “I’ll think about that,” Sandro murmured. “And tell Eric it’s time.”


    “Surely,” Matt nodded before striding out of the room.


    Just like Sandro, Arabe mused, shaking her head. She couldn’t fathom why he harbored such hatred and a desire to kill her if they were meant to be together-unless she had rejected him.


    Rejected or not, Arabe pondered, what did it have to do with Alessandro’s first actions? Couldn’t he have moved on unless he was obsessive and controlling like Sandro appeared to be?


    “We need to be elsewhere,” risse dered, and before Arabe could inquire where risse snapped her fingers, the scenery changed.


    ***


    Sandro muttered to himself as he stared at the figure he believed to be Arabe. “Mydy Arabe, it’s almost time,” an old but healthy woman approached her.


    Arabe, Sandro mused. It seemed more than a coincidence-she looked like Arabe, and now she had the same name.


    “I need tomunicate with her,” Lady Arabe murmured, pointing to a statue nearby.


    “I thought you did earlier?” wrinkled Ellen asked.


    “Circe is much more demanding than the other goddesses. Also, I am a descendant of her, so I should revere her all the time,” Lady Arabe sighed.


    “It’s fine, mydy. I believe it can be done swiftly because we need you to start up the ceremony,” Ellen stated.


    “I’ll be with you shortly,” Lady Arabe said, a sinister smile on her face.


    Approaching the statue, she knelt. “Great Circe, from the mes of your divine lineage, I call upon the ancient powers.”


    Wind epassed her, strong enough to pick up debris but not to destroy the surroundings.


    “Grant me the fiery strength to rise, a Phoenix queen aze, to scorch the foes that stand against my path,” her hands alight with me.


    For the first time, Sandro witnessed the me of the Phoenix. The intensity overwhelmed him, and he felt the heat radiating off it. His eyes narrowed as Lady Arabe torched the ground around her-fire and wind now epassing her, and her white hair turned fiery red, mirroring the me.


    “Hear my plea, immortal enchantress, and let your magic flow through my veins as I be the inferno that consumes all opposition,” Lady Arabe growled.


    The sound was deafening, and more mes poured out of her for a brief moment until it ceased. Everything fell silent again, and Lady Arabe stood, gently kissing the statue before turning on her heel as if nothing had urred.


    “What a psycho!” Sandro grunted. He believed the trait often associated with him wasn’t fair because the true definition of psycho was the woman he had just witnessed.


    “That’s because of your mother’s blood running through your veins. She decided to quell the psychopathic energy,” risse exined.


    Sandro turned to re at her, and his eyes widened as he noticed Arabe behind her.


    “Tesoro,” Sandro murmured, stalking towards her. Gripping her hand and white hair, he raised it to his nose, sniffing her in, before locking eyes with her.


    “You’re real,” he said.


    “Of course I am,” Arabe replied, her voice cold, tugging her hand away.


    “Let me go, Sandro,” she said as he held on tighter.


    “I don’t think I amfortable being in the same ce as you,” she added, avoiding eye contact.


    Sandro gently gripped her chin, prompting her to look at him. “Can we at least be civil for the sake of our child?”


    “Don’t tell me you developed sudden amnesia and turned a blind eye to all that you did to me? Besides, I never mentioned carrying your child, did I?” she retorted.


    “You didn’t,” Sandro murmured. “But I feel within me that it is mine.”


    “Keep feeling,” Arabe rolled her eyes.


    “Love birds,” risse remarked.


    “I don’t love him!” Arabe snapped, turning to Sandro, who watched with amusement but said nothing to refute risse’s statement.


    “Why don’t we get down to the reason we’re here rather than fight over a child that is yet to be born? You can always do a DNA test to know if it’s yours or not,” risse suggested.


    “I intend to do that after getting out of here,” Sandro asserted.


    “That can only be possible if I let you,” Arabe retorted.


    “Come on,” risse urged, leading them down the path Sandro had taken earlier, the same path Lady Arabe had taken.


    “Hate me all you want, I don’t care. But stay close to me. I don’t want anything happening to you or the child,” Sandro said, his hand snaking around Arabe’s waist, pulling her closer.