Chapter 1073: The Cat is Awake [Part 1]

Chapter 1073 – The Cat is Awake [Part 1]

"Hurt..."

That was the first thought Runa had when consciousness crawled back into her like a drunk servant returning late with no apology.

Everything hurt.

Not the dignified kind of hurt either. Not the pain of battle wounds, spell backlash, or the noble exhaustion after burning half a battlefield into glass.

No.

This was humiliating hurt.

Small hurt.

Aching joints. Heavy head. Weak limbs. Dry throat. Strange fur prickling along skin that should not have had fur at all.

Her awareness floated in and out, thick and blurred, like someone had stuffed wool inside her skull and then spun her soul around for entertainment.

But beneath the dizziness, beneath the weakness, beneath the wrongness of this body, something remained sharp.

Anger.

Anger so old it had become part of her heartbeat.

Pain.

Betrayal.

A name she refused to think.

A face she wanted to claw from history.

The man who had once taken her hand beneath a blood moon and told her he loved her more than anything in this world.

Liar.

Her eyes opened.

At first, the world was only shadow and gold.

Warm dim light. Soft fabric beneath her. A faint scent of expensive wood, dark magic, and something dangerously sweet.

Then the blur cleared.

A face hovered near her.

No.

Not hovering.

Resting.

A man’s face.

Handsome.

Too handsome.

The sort of face bards ruined entire songs trying to describe. Dark lashes. Sharp jaw. Loose black hair falling partly over his forehead. Lips relaxed in sleep, sinful even when unconscious. He looked young, but the pressure around him did not. Something deep and greedy slept beneath his skin.

Runa’s instincts hissed.

Demon.

Then another realization struck her.

Why was his face so big?

Was he a giant?

Her heart lurched.

How long had she been trapped?

How long had she stood as a tower, stone and silence and rage, while the world changed beneath her? Had humans grown larger? Had demons changed shape? Had the sky moved closer? Had time finally become insane?

She tried to push herself up.

Bad decision.

Pain shot through her limbs.

All of them.

Too many sensations. Too many wrong angles.

Her body wobbled.

Her head dipped.

Something small and furry slid over the blanket.

Runa froze.

Slowly, with the dread of a queen checking whether someone had stolen her crown, she looked down.

Hands.

She needed to look at her hands.

Except she did not have hands.

She had paws.

Tiny orange paws.

Soft.

Clawed.

Ridiculous.

Runa stared at them.

No.

No, no, no.

Humans did not have paws.

Sorcerers did not have paws.

But she had them now.

She lifted one.

The paw lifted.

She flexed.

Tiny claws appeared.

She stared harder. "What...?"

What came out was not a word.

It was a weak, offended sound.

"Mrr..."

Runa went perfectly still.

Then the truth landed on her with the grace of a falling tower.

She was a cat.

A cat.

The great sorcerer who had been turned into a tower had now become a cat.

For several seconds, rage and disbelief fought inside her small chest so violently she nearly forgot how to breathe.

This was not freedom.

This was cosmic mockery wearing whiskers. ℯℯ𝑙.

Memory returned in broken flashes.

Stone.

Cracking.

Light.

A palm pressed against the curse.

A demon’s voice saying he was not him.

The prison breaking.

Her statue shattering.

Her body...

Runa’s anger dimmed for one breath, replaced by something colder.

She remembered trying to move after the bindings broke. Remembered the old power surging back into her, too fast, too much. Her mind had screamed freedom. Her soul had clawed outward. But her body had not been flesh anymore.

Only stone.

All stone.

Her power had been too vast for a corpse made of rock and memory.

So it broke.

She broke.

The prison shattered, and with it, the last shape of who she had been.

Then she had fled.

Not upward.

Not downward.

She remembered refusing every pull. The heavens did not own her. The underworld did not own her. No demon, no god, no dead court, no shining judge would take her after centuries of stolen will.

She had run.

And there, near the bushes, she had found this body.

A cat.

Weak. Wounded by the quake she had made when the tower collapsed. Dying in the grass with terrified little lungs and no understanding of magic, betrayal, or men who kissed hands before making prisons.

The cat had been innocent.

That was why Runa entered.

Not stole.

Entered.

She had pushed into the fragile vessel, wrapped the fading animal soul gently away from death, and taken the front of the body before both of them disappeared.

So yes.

That was how she ended up here.

In a cat.

An orange one, judging from the disgraceful color of her paws.

Runa closed her eyes.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

Fine.

This was fine.

Humiliating, yes.

Absurd, absolutely.

But alive.

Free.

Small, weak, and possibly covered in fur, but free.

Freedom tasted like blankets, dust, and demon scent.

Her eyes opened again.

The demon still slept beside her.

Lux Vaelthorn.

She knew his name.

Somehow. From voices. From the healing woman. From the women around him. From his own annoying voice explaining things to her as if she were a child, a patient, and a lawsuit.

He was handsome.

Yes.

Disgustingly so.

Even Runa, who currently occupied the body of a creature that probably judged furniture by scratch quality, could admit that.

But he was a demon.

And she knew demons.

The man who declared he loved her had been a demon too.

He had smiled. Spoken softly. Called her brilliant. Called her flame. Called her equal.

Then he had turned her into a tower just because she rejected him.

Runa’s claws flexed into the blanket.

No.

She would not tangle with another demon.

Not again.

She needed to leave.

Fast.

While he slept.

Her gaze slid over the bedroom.

It was absurdly luxurious without being loud. Dark wood. Wide bed. Heavy curtains. A low table with books, contracts, a half-finished cup of tea that probably longed to become coffee, and clothing folded with the care of someone who owned too many expensive fabrics.

The bed smelled like him.

Dark magic. Warm skin. faint spice. Gold. Desire, though not the crude kind... more like heat sleeping behind a locked door.

Runa hated that she noticed.

She was a cat now. Did cats notice such things? Awful creatures.

She pushed herself upright.

Her limbs trembled.

Her tail dragged behind her like an unfamiliar rope attached to pride.