The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 108: We need to make the temperature freezing

Kian stood over Isabella, eyes narrowing as his hands hovered above her. His usual coldness had melted into raw focus, energy swirling between his fingers. The room was thick with tension—every breath a heavy weight. He muttered under his breath, eyes scanning Isabella’s trembling form, desperate for answers.

Ophelia, Shelia, and Luca were pressed into the corner, watching like coiled springs, unable to look away. Shelia bit her lip, eyes darting from Kian to Isabella. Ophelia’s fingers gripped her hands so tight, her knuckles were white. Luca was on edge, his composure cracking as he leaned forward, almost on the verge of saying something. frёewebηovel.cѳm

The minutes dragged, unbearable. Kian’s brow furrowed deeper as magic flared around Isabella like a storm. No poison. No curse. Nothing.

"What in the world is going on?" Kian muttered, frustration thick in his voice. He turned to the others, voice hard. "There’s no magic. No poison. Nothing."

The room held its breath. Shelia, quick to speak, finally broke the silence. "Then what’s wrong with her?"

Luca stepped closer to Isabella’s bedside, voice quiet but filled with urgency. "She’s in pain. Why can’t she wake up?"

Ophelia’s voice barely reached them. "Will she be okay?"

Kian didn’t answer, eyes still glued to Isabella. His hands moved in a desperate dance, pulling at the magic surrounding her, trying to peel back whatever hidden force was keeping her down. But the more he searched, the less he understood.

And then, a pulse.

Cyrus, hidden in the shadows, had been listening, his senses sharp. A faint hum brushed against his skin, but it grew stronger, sharper. His heartbeat quickened, focus narrowing. It was Isabella’s energy, and it was wrong. Too familiar.

A flash of recognition hit him. She had been to the mystical mountain. He hadn’t sensed it before, but now... it was undeniable.

He realized. She had been there for too long without the proper protection. And that has placed her in grave danger.

His chest tightened, but he remained silent, watching, waiting.

Kian’s magic flared again, the energy surging into Isabella’s frail form. Her body jerked violently, her back arching off the bed in a way that sent shockwaves through the room. A scream—sharp, primal—tore through her lips. The force of it rattled the stone walls.

Kian recoiled, eyes wide with shock. "This can’t be..."

The room fell silent, the air thick with fear. Kian’s heart raced, hands clenched. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected her to react this way.

Then, from the shadows, Cyrus stepped into the light. His voice was low, laced with an edge Kian had never heard. "You shouldn’t have done that," he growled, eyes locking on Kian with cold fury. "You don’t know what you’re dealing with."

Kian froze. There was something about Cyrus—his presence, the anger coiled in his muscles—that made him hesitate. For a second, Kian wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty or defensive.

Before he could speak, Isabella let out a weak, tortured breath, her body twitching, trembling. The room went still again. The air felt heavy, thick with dread.

This was worse than any of them had realized.

The question hung in the air like a knife: How far would they go to save her?

"Did I not tell you you’re not allowed in my palace?" Shelia narrowed her eyes at Cyrus, her voice dripping with annoyance. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, stance stiff and confrontational.

Opehlia, ever the voice of reason, quickly nudged Shelia, trying to diffuse the tension. "Stop being like that, Shelia," Opehlia urged, her words coming out in a soft, pleading tone. "Isabella is more important. If he can save her, it’s better to let him try than fight with him."

"Tsk, Opehlia, you’re too—" Shelia started to retort, but she was interrupted by Kian’s cold voice, his tone sharp and filled with suspicion.

"What do you know?" Kian asked, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with Cyrus. His posture was tense, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. He didn’t trust this beast, not even a little bit.

Kian’s instincts told him that Cyrus had to be hiding something, but as he thought about the way Cyrus had looked at Isabella yesterday—loving, even expectant—something inside him relaxed. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him could see Cyrus meant no harm. Yet, that realization only made him feel... strange. Upset, even. Why did this beast care so much about Isabella? He couldn’t make sense of it.

Cyrus stood tall and unflinching, his eyes calm despite the tension in the room. "All I can tell you is that I know a way to heal her faster," he said, his voice steady. His fists unclenched slowly, but the intensity of his words was not lost on any of them.

"Tell me," Kian demanded after a long pause. His voice was low, commanding. Shelia, who had been observing the exchange with narrowed eyes, swallowed her words. The tension between Kian and Cyrus was palpable, but for some reason, she trusted Kian more than anything in this moment. If Kian believed this was worth pursuing, then maybe it was. But there was still that nagging doubt in her mind.

If there was one person in this world Shelia trusted without question, it was Kian. He was her older brother, her protector. He had always been the one to keep her safe, to fight for her, and to guide her. She had never doubted him—until now. And the thought of questioning him now, of all times, made her feel uneasy. But there was no time to waste.

She gave Cyrus another suspicious glance, watching him closely, as if waiting for him to slip up, to show his true intentions.

"You can’t forcefully give back what was taken away peacefully," Cyrus said, his voice calm, but with an underlying weight to it that made the words land heavily in the room.

An awkward silence immediately settled over the group, hanging thick in the air. No one moved, no one spoke, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped altogether.

"So the point is—" Luca began, his voice hesitant, but Shelia cut him off with an exasperated groan.

"Luca, please, no," she said, rubbing her temple in frustration. "He’ll continue himself."

Luca fell silent, his lips pressing together in a tight line, but his eyes were fixed on Cyrus, waiting for the rest of his explanation. The tension in the room was palpable, and it felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for Cyrus’s next words.

All eyes turned to him, their anticipation hanging heavy in the air. They knew he wasn’t done. His words, when they came, were unexpected and cut through the silence like a blade.

"We need to make the temperature freezing," Cyrus said, his words landing like a bombshell.