The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 528: Why are you screaming

The moment Isabella realized that the place they had rolled into wasn’t normal, she stopped breathing for half a second.

Not because she was scared.

But because the scene before her was genuinely something out of a dream.

The moss beneath them wasn’t moss at all.

It was soft.

Too soft.

Silky.

Like cotton clouds had been torn apart and laid perfectly on the ground.

Pale strands of shimmering fiber grew in tangled layers, forming soft blankets that cushioned their fall.

No wonder they lived.

No wonder she didn’t crack her skull open because of Osiris’ stupidity.

Isabella sat up slowly, still glaring at him, but now distracted enough to blink around in shock.

"What is this," she whispered.

Osiris lifted his head, just enough to follow her gaze. "I do not know."

The clearing stretched out like a hidden chamber carved into the mountain. Except it wasn’t stone. Not entirely. Strange plants grew everywhere. Threads of color hung from vine-like stems, thin enough to look delicate but glowing faintly with magic. Some fibers were translucent. Others were bright. Others glimmered like starlight. The walls were coated with patches of textured material that looked almost like leather. Some pieces draped loosely. Others curved and folded like sheets waiting to be cut.

It was a valley of fabric.

A forest of material.

A treasure room of creation itself.

Isabella stared at it with her mouth open.

Osiris stared too, but in a confused, lost, helpless way, like someone who knew absolutely nothing about what he was seeing.

"These things," Isabella muttered, "they look like... fabric."

Osiris leaned closer. "Fabric. What is fabric."

"Something you do not understand."

"That is not helpful."

"Neither are you."

He frowned and looked down at the soft layer beneath him. He pressed his hand into it. It molded under his palm like memory foam before springing back to shape. "This is why we did not die."

"Yes," Isabella said, her voice flat. "Unfortunately."

Osiris blinked. "Unfortunately."

"Because I wanted to kill you."

"Isabella please. We survived. We should be grateful."

"I am grateful that I am alive. I am not grateful that you are alive."

He opened his mouth to argue, but Isabella moved faster.

With the swiftness of a woman fueled by pure hatred and pregnant rage, she sat up fully, reached behind him, grabbed his head, twisted it back, and slapped him across the face with a sound that echoed beautifully in the clearing.

Osiris froze.

Isabella leaned in with deadly calm. "If you ever scare me like that again, I will feed you to this mountain."

He blinked. "That does not even make sense."

"It will make sense when I do it."

"That is concerning."

"Good."

She stood up, brushed off imaginary dust, and walked away from him, completely done with his existence for the moment. Osiris remained seated on the soft ground, rubbing his cheek and muttering something about violence, children, and Isabella being too emotional.

He followed after her eventually, limping a tiny bit for dramatic effect.

Isabella barely noticed him.

Her entire mind was consumed by what she was seeing.

There were colors she had never seen before. Shades that did not exist in the human world. Reds that glowed from within. Blues that shimmered when she blinked. Silver threads that curled around the vines like delicate hair strands. Deep emerald patches that looked like dyed velvet. Thick, smooth material that resembled leather but shifted when touched.

She was in awe.

Pure awe.

She had been through hell on this mountain. She had nearly died. She had been hunted, chased, screamed at, insulted, and almost dropped off cliffs.

But this.

This was magical.

She felt a pulse of joy spark in her chest, so sudden and bright she thought it might be indigestion.

"Bubu," she whispered in her mind.

The system popped up immediately. "Yes."

"Scan this place."

Bubu hummed. "Stand by."

Isabella crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently as five minutes passed. Osiris tried talking twice. She ignored him both times. Glimora collected glowing fibers with excited squeaks.

Ten minutes passed.

Then Bubu appeared again.

"This area contains multiple rare material sources."

Isabella perked up. "Explain."

Bubu continued.

"Various fibers suitable for sewing. Multiple layers of natural cloth forming on trees. Some fabrics strong enough for shoes. Others perfect for bags. Some are magical and can resist tearing and flames."

Isabella’s jaw dropped.

Osiris looked at her. "What is wrong with you now."

She did not hear him.

She did not even remember he existed.

Her eyes sparkled.

Actually sparkled.

"What the fuck," she whispered, stepping closer to a cascade of shimmering blue threads. "What the actual fuck."

It was beautiful.

Not normal beautiful.

Not human beautiful.

It was ethereal.

Like fairies wove it. Like moonlight melted into strings. Like someone took the northern lights and braided them into fabric.

Her fingers trembled as she touched it.

It was soft, smooth, cool, and so fine it almost melted between her fingertips.

Her heart began racing.

She had forgotten this feeling.

True excitement.

True fascination.

True passion.

Her childhood flashed through her mind. Her years of obsessing over clothes. The way she used to design dresses in her notebooks. The hours she spent cutting and stitching and imagining she would one day become a fashion goddess. She remembered how alive she felt back then. How confident. How unstoppable.

She swallowed.

Her smile stretched slowly.

"Bubu," she whispered, "are these real."

"Yes," the system answered. "You have discovered a rare crafting ecosystem. A living textile field. A gift of the mountain."

She blinked hard.

Emotion filled her chest until she felt breathless. "I cannot believe this."

She turned around, running to the next vine.

This one grew long, striped material. Dark purple with streaks of metallic gold. It hung like curtains made for a queen.

"Oh my goddess," she breathed.

She grabbed it gently and pulled a small piece. It adjusted itself, then released a small sheet of fabric into her hand. Perfectly cut. The texture was luxurious, smooth as oil and sturdy as armor.

She sprinted to the next piece.

This material was layered like petals. When she touched it, the petals rearranged themselves into a folded sheet. It shimmered from white to soft pink, glowing gently.

"What is this. What IS THIS," she shouted, spinning around like a child in a candy store.

Osiris watched her with a blank expression. "Why are you screaming."

She ignored him entirely.

She ran to another formation. This one had thick, dark material that looked like leather but felt more like stretchy, flexible armor. Perfect for shoes. Perfect for bags. Perfect for everything she had ever wanted to make.

She was shaking with excitement. "It is all here. It is literally all here. How. How does this mountain have a textile paradise."

"Are you okay," Osiris asked cautiously.

"No. I am not okay. I am very not okay," she said, grabbing glowing fabric in both hands. "This is beautiful. This is insane. This is magical. How did I not know this existed."

"Is this important."

"Important," she repeated, scandalized. "IMPORTANT."

"Is that a yes."

"Osiris do not speak to me."

He shut up instantly.

She continued sprinting from vine to vine, touching everything, gasping dramatically every thirty seconds. She crouched beside a thick cluster of silver fibers and ran her hand through them. They vibrated gently, releasing tiny light particles like glitter.

She nearly screamed again.

Her heart was dancing.

Her soul was screaming.

Her fashion brain was resurrecting from the dead.

She found another material, a soft lavender lace-like structure that grew in layered patterns. It looked hand woven. Intricate. Too perfect to exist naturally. She held it up to the faint glow of the bioluminescent crystals and almost cried.

"This is illegal. This is too pretty," she said to herself.

She found thicker, sturdier materials growing on the underside of a rock shelf. She tugged lightly and a sheet formed instantly in her hands.

Then she found long ribbon-like fibers hanging from a stone archway. When she touched them, they braided themselves into decorative patterns.

She froze.

"What the fuck. What the fuck," she whispered, eyes wide. "It braids itself."

She was gone.

Emotionally gone.

She wandered deeper, still touching everything, still stunned beyond belief. She found shimmering whites, deep blacks that swallowed light, red threads that pulsed faintly like living veins, and iridescent fabrics that shifted colors depending on her angle.

After nearly fifteen minutes of exploring, her breathing grew fast from excitement and her hands were full of samples.

She felt alive.

Alive in a way she had not felt in months.

She turned in a circle, eyes shining. "Bubu."

"Yes."

"Give me a scissors."