Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
Down beneath, the witches mimicked the chief loudly, like puppets with no thoughts of their own.
The chief was pleased. This was her desired outcome with devoted followers who would help perpetuate the witch clan.
Originally, the chief had placed her hopes on Emerie to assume her responsibilities eventually. Yet, it was now evident that Emerie’s faith wasn’t deep enough. Luckily, Emerie wouldn’t make it with her serious injuries. Emerie had effectively killed herself.
This was a relief to the chief. After all, it spared her from having to intervene.
Just as the chief was about to lower the torch onto the lotus platform, a sudden “whoosh” broke the silence.
An arrow sliced through the air. It hit the chief’s shoulder, and blood began to stain her robe.
The assembled witches gasped, their expressions filled with shock as the chief staggered, her complexion ashen.
Before anyone could grasp what was happening, another arrow hit the chief’s knee.
“Ah!” the chief screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground.
The frightened witches looked around frantically for the attacker. Soon, they spotted a senior man in gray perched on a tree branch, his homemade bow trained on the chief. His voice, though aged, carried powerfully as he yelled, “Old witch, give me back my son’s life!”
With that, the senior man released another arrow, which struck the chief directly in the heart. The chief’s hand shook as she toppled forward, her torch setting her robe alight.
The chief weakly reached for a vial of life-prolonging pills tied at her waist. Her fingers trembled as she managed to open the vial and scoop out the pills.
Just as she was about to pop them into her mouth, a flying kick sent the pills scattering across the ground!
The chief, overwhelmed with fury and desperation, wanted to curse and fight back but found herself too weak. All she could do was send a hateful glare toward the one who had disrupted her last hope, stunned to see it was Emerie, covered in blood.
Emerie, the one the chief once fully trusted and never expected to turn against her.
Emerie’s neck was wrapped in a makeshift bandage fashioned from a piece of cloth Nicole had torn off in urgency. Blood continued to seep through. Her forceful kick had worsened her bleeding.
Now too weak to speak, Emerie had exhausted her strength. She collapsed to her knees, communicating with the chief through gestures she knew would be understood. “You lied to me! You lied to me! You deserve to die!”
The chief, sprawled on the ground, was shaking uncontrollably. Struck by three arrows and engulfed in flames, her chances of survival were zero. The horror of bleeding and burning simultaneously was unbearable.
Emerie clutched a porcelain vial and dragged herself toward Roscoe. She forced open his mouth and poured the contents of the vial into it.
Emerie said, her voice as weak as a murmur, “Take this as my final act of kindness. These pills will heal your neural pathways. There might be adverse effects, but you will live on…”
The next second, Emerie’s head dropped to the ground, her body motionless.
Emerie passed away before the chief, who now writhed on the ground, her movements resembling those of a bug in flames, both hideous and pitiful.
The witches below stood stunned, their illusions shattered as they realized their chief’s deception. Promises of everlasting youth and immortality fell to dust. Their chief had been nothing more than a skillful liar, shrouded in mystical deceit.
The strong odor of burning flesh disturbed the parasites in the trees overhead.
The air crackled as the parasites’ shells burst open. Countless parasites plummeted to the earth, their legs moving frantically as they sought new hosts among the human scents.
Panic ensued among the witches as they scattered in chaos.
The senior man on the tree branch looked down at the ensuing chaos. With the chief’s demise, a deep void filled him. He whispered, “Flee, flee, for soon this place will be nothing but ruins…”
However, his voice was drowned out by the chaos.
The senior man watched the turmoil unfold, his laughter spreading across the woods like the eerie song of a lunatic. “My dear son, did you witness that from heaven? I have avenged you. Rest peacefully. In our next life, will you be my son once more…”
Meanwhile, Nicole and Roscoe remained restrained at the lotus altar, caught in their own dire predicament.
Roscoe, after swallowing the potent pills, experienced a fierce internal struggle. Although the pills were intended to heal, they needed time to integrate. He needed to remain still and allow the medicine to integrate deeply into his system, but the immediate crisis demanded action.
His body felt incredibly heavy, each movement a strenuous task. Despite his efforts to free himself and rescue Nicole, his attempts were in vain.
His limbs felt like they were treading on clouds, completely devoid of strength.
With a voice strained and faint, Roscoe said to Nicole, “Nicole, can you get free? I might not be much help.”
Nicole, with her teeth clenched, struggled against her own bindings. The wire dug painfully into her skin, burning sharply.
To soothe Roscoe, she said confidently, though it was a lie, “It’s okay. I think I can manage.”
Left with no other choice, Nicole bit her lip, shut her eyes tight, and gave her bound hand a fierce tug.
A gruesome sound of tearing echoed as the skin on her hand ripped. Her scream, deep and guttural, resonated through the forest. “Ah!”
Roscoe, distressed by her scream, asked anxiously, “Nicole… Nicole… Are you alright?”
Being tied back to back, they couldn’t see each other’s struggles, which heightened Roscoe’s concern.
After catching her breath, Nicole slowly opened her eyes.
Her hand was nearly free, but the skin on her wrist and the back of her hand was gruesomely peeled back, exposing a bloody and raw wound.
Blood trickled down continuously, a sight both terrifying and nauseating…
Yet, fear outweighed the horror. Being halfway free meant she had to face the unbearable pain again.
The intensity of the pain nearly overwhelmed her, but retreat was not an option. The urgency was critical.
The fire consuming the chief’s corpse was dying down, and the parasites were drawing nearer.
Parasites’ fear of the flames had kept them away, but as the fire faded, they would soon venture closer.
The arrival of even a single parasite could trigger a devastating attack. Nicole and Roscoe, still restrained, would become live nests for these creatures.
Just the thought sent a shiver of dread through Nicole, an outcome she was determined to prevent at all costs.
With renewed resolve, she gritted her teeth, shut her eyes, and continued to wrench her hand free.
Nicole’s scream resonated across the valley, sharp and clear. The sound was so intense that it nearly transmitted the excruciating pain.
Roscoe’s heart ached deeply as he murmured, “Nicole…”
His words felt empty, unable to alleviate even a bit of her torment. Overcome with a feeling of helplessness, he detested his own inability to assist her.
Nicole teetered on the edge of consciousness, biting her tongue to maintain alertness. After a brief moment of silence, she realized time was running out.
With a trembling effort, Nicole lifted her bloodied, skinless hand to release her other hand.
Ignoring the intense pain, she managed to free one hand and quickly started untying the restraints on her legs.
Suddenly, a parasite, attracted by the blood, scurried toward Nicole. Though it moved swiftly, its youth restricted it to crawling.
Had it been seven days old, it could fly and would have instantly burrowed into Nicole’s flesh.
Nicole noticed the parasite nearing, panic setting in. Her hands clumsily worked the bindings, but it was too late.
The parasite reached Nicole’s feet and began its ascent up her leg. She attempted to swat it away, but the parasite, proficient at burrowing, was relentless. Despair washed over her.
Just then, a blazing stick landed at her feet. The parasite was instantly destroyed by the flames.
For a moment, Nicole felt a calm settle over her. She glanced up to see a figure approaching briskly, clad in a snug jacket.
Even from a distance, his imposing stature was recognizable to Nicole. It was Jarrod. How had he found her here?
Hope surged through Nicole. Perhaps she could make it out of this. Clearly, Jarrod had planned for this rescue, evidenced by the bag of burning sticks he carried.
Down below, his team battled the swarm of parasites, hurling the sticks outward to form a barrier. The flames deterred the nearby parasites and kept the distant ones at bay.
Yet, the number of parasites was too great, overwhelming any efforts to fully eradicate them.
Jarrod’s men, overwhelmed themselves, could no longer lend aid. It was Jarrod alone, concerned for Nicole’s safety, who braved the danger to aid her.
Upon seeing Nicole’s injured hands, pain mirrored in Jarrod’s eyes as if he himself had been struck. Silently, he knelt and used his knife to slice through the bindings on her feet.
Once Nicole was unbound, Jarrod hastily ripped his sleeve and fashioned a makeshift bandage for her bleeding hands, his actions driven by a shared sense of her pain. He asked gently, “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Nicole responded, her voice low, prioritizing survival over her discomfort. Their focus now shifted to escaping safely.
Jarrod, his expression tense, prepared to carry Nicole to safety. “Climb on my back. I’ll get us out of here,” he said, crouching to lift her.
In light of the current danger, carrying Nicole on his back proved more practical than in his arms, allowing him to keep an eye on the swarming parasites and defend against any that approached too closely.
Suddenly, Nicole halted Jarrod. “Wait! What about Roscoe? Please, help me save him.”
Nicole realized she was imposing a significant request on Jarrod, who likely preferred to rescue her without distraction.
Yet, with his sharp knife, Jarrod could release Roscoe much quicker than she could.
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