The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 512: You’re useless. Get out of my sight
Isabella turned slowly. Very slowly.
"You want to die?" she asked sweetly.
Osiris grinned. "I just think it’s strange the fire hasn’t tried to barbeque me yet."
Isabella blinked.
Then she blinked again.
He... had a point.
She turned back to the cave’s fiery mouth, watching as the entrance glowed a brilliant molten red. It flickered gently, quiet... calm.
Osiris stepped forward and nothing happened.
No fire.
No explosion.
Not even a spark.
She turned her head toward him, slowly.
He raised his brows. "What? It likes me."
"Don’t flatter yourself."
"It’s probably a phoenix thing."
She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. Of course it was a phoenix thing. He was made of fire. The cave probably thought he was its long-lost cousin or something.
"Wait," she muttered under her breath. "That’s it."
She turned back toward Glimora and gestured quickly.
"Come here. We’re going in."
Osiris frowned. "We? You just got singed."
"You’re going in first."
He blinked.
"I am?"
"Yes. And I’m going to be holding you."
He blinked again.
"...are you flirting with me?"
"Don’t flatter yourself!" she snapped, cheeks red. "If you’re immune, then we have no choice. I hold you, Glimora holds me, and bam, no fire."
He opened his mouth. Probably to say something stupid.
She glared at him and pointed. "Say one more word and I’m throwing you inside alone."
Osiris shut his mouth.
Isabella grabbed his arm. His very warm arm. Then realized her entire body was now glued against his ridiculously warm torso. Her hands were pressed against his skin again.
Muscle.
Heat.
Fire magic.
Oh no.
"Don’t say anything," she whispered.
"I wasn’t going to," he whispered back, but he was smiling.
Glimora jumped up, paws wrapping gently around Isabella’s waist from behind. The three of them stood in a weird little flaming cuddle sandwich, and Isabella was hating this.
Except she wasn’t.
Except she was absolutely going to deny it.
"Let’s go," she muttered. Then she marched forward, dragging Osiris with her.
The fire flared.
Then... paused.
And let them in.
The moment they stepped inside, Isabella almost collapsed.
It was hot.
Stupid hot.
The air itself clung to her skin like a sweaty shirt. The walls pulsed with red and gold. The stone beneath their feet shimmered, almost molten. It was like stepping into a furnace that hated her specifically.
She pushed Osiris away the moment they cleared the threshold.
He stumbled back, laughing quietly.
"What?" he asked.
"You smell like arrogance and ash," she said, brushing her palms off as if she touched something diseased.
"Aw," he smirked. "You liked it."
"I will cut you."
"Try."
"I will."
Glimora let out a tired pip, clearly exhausted by her two human disaster parents.
Isabella fanned herself and looked around. The deeper cave glowed in patches—rivers of lava ran through narrow cracks. She didn’t have time to waste. Not when every breath felt like breathing in soup.
She scanned the jagged rock walls, her eyes locking onto a patch of glowing red moss hanging off a magma-split stone halfway up.
Firemoss.
There it was.
Beautiful, terrifying, and definitely out to kill her.
She approached slowly, the heat burning her skin just by proximity. It glowed like a living ember, even though it wasn’t on fire. Yet.
She reached out instinctively.
A wave of pure heat slammed into her palm, burning the air around it.
She yanked her hand back with a hiss.
Then she remembered the note.
Can only be touched with fingers dipped in snowmelt.
Right.
Because she totally had snowmelt.
Right here.
In a magma cave.
Isabella stood there, fists clenched, sweating so hard it felt like she was melting. She was going to pass out. Or punch something. Or cry.
She turned to Osiris. "Do you see any snow?"
He looked around dramatically. "Mmm. Nope. Just a pool of death."
She turned back.
And then—
System prompt pinged in her head.
[BUBU: Hello, host. 🙂 Still alive?]
Isabella didn’t answer.
[BUBU: No snowmelt in this region.]
Isabella twitched.
[BUBU: If you had studied the climate distribution of Mountain Regions 3.7, you would know that the snow line is far above the magma split.]
She screamed internally.
"Then why the FUCK," she hissed in her head, "did you send me HERE?"
[System: Because I believe in your ability to problem-solve 💖]
She was going to murder someone. Maybe herself. Maybe Osiris.
Or maybe her system.
"You’re useless. Get out of my sight."
[👀]
She blocked the chat window with her thoughts and turned toward the moss again.
She couldn’t touch it.
Not with bare hands.
Not without snow.
She felt a wave of frustration rising like a tidal wave.
And then—
"Why’d you come here if you weren’t prepared?"
The voice came from behind her.
Osiris.
Of course.
She turned slowly.
He was standing there with that calm, smug, phoenix expression. All flame and cheekbones and judgment.
She wanted to slap him.
But also, maybe melt into his chest again for two seconds.
Shut up, hormones.
Isabella threw her hands in the air. "I WAS prepared, okay?"
"You clearly weren’t."
"You’re not helping."
"I wasn’t trying to."
"You think you’re so smart just because your body thinks this is a sauna!"
He shrugged. "Not my fault the cave likes me better."
"Why do you talk?"
"Why do you blush when I talk?"
"I don’t—!" she pointed dramatically. "You’re not even wearing a shirt. You’re distracting."
"I’m helping."
"By being shirtless?"
He gave her a slow smirk. "It’s a valid strategy."
Glimora sighed and dragged her tail over her eyes like she couldn’t take it anymore.
She turned back to the moss. It glowed like it was laughing at her.
She needed a solution.
Osiris came beside her. "Look. We don’t have snow. But there’s water. Look at that—" he pointed to a thin rivulet of steam trickling from a crack. "That’s cooled lava runoff. We might be able to fake snowmelt with it."
Isabella blinked.
"Fake... snowmelt?"
"Cool enough to count. Hot enough not to kill. You want to try?"
She looked at him. Really looked.
And for a second, she almost trusted him.
Almost.
Then he smirked again. "Unless you’d rather grab it barehanded and cry."
She shoved him lightly. "Shut up."
He stepped aside and let her test the water with a small pouch.
She caught the run-off, dipped her fingers inside.
It tingled. Warm. Barely cool enough to not hurt.
Maybe this would work.
She looked back at the moss.
Then dipped her fingers in again. Let them soak for a few minutes.
She turned toward the moss.
It was now or never.
