The Betrayed Princess Rising (Lylah and Ezra) novel Chapter 453

Chapter 453

3rd Person’s POV

“I don’t have a diagnosis, Lady Tessalonika.”

Lylah’s voice remained calm despite the heavy silence pressing against the walls of the hut. The fire crackled softly between them, throwing restless shadows across the worn wooden floor.

“Everything Abba described, her coma, the disappearance of her wolf, the inability to shift… Lylah lowered her gaze briefly. “None of the conditions I’ve studied fully match her symptoms. If I force a conclusion without certainty, the treatment itself could become more dangerous than the illness. This is an undiagnosed case.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

In the Traditional Healing class and within books Lylah had once read long before entering Lunar Grace, there was an old saying:

Not every wound obeys logic. Not every sickness can be carved apart and named.

Some afflictions belonged to the soul.

And when healers encountered such mysteries, arrogance became more dangerous than ignorance.

But the instant those words left Lylah’s mouth, Seraphina’s scent sharpened with triumph.

A slow smile curled across her lips.

Lylah had admitted it herself.

Defeat.

Incompetence.

“How unfortunate,” Seraphina said smoothly, folding her arms. Her gaze swept toward Tessalonika with carefully concealed satisfaction. “At least I presented an actual diagnosis and a viable solution.” Her eyes slid back toward Lylah, cold and cutting. “Unlike someone who contributed nothing except uncertainty.”

“So tell me, Lady Tessalonika…” Seraphina continued sweetly, “What exactly is Lylah contributing to this team besides taking up space?”

Silence crashed down heavily after her words.

Then,

Tessalonika turned.

And suddenly the air inside the hut felt colder.

The elder healer’s wolf surged beneath her skin-not fully unleashed, but enough for every student present to feel the sharp pressure brushing against their instincts.

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454

“Is this truly what you’ve been doing?” Tessalonika asked quietly.

Seraphina froze.

The calmness in that voice was far more terrifying than anger. “Throwing blame onto others before proving your own worth?”

“Lady Tessa, 1-” Seraphina’s expression faltered instantly.

Tessalonika stepped closer, her sharp gaze pinning Seraphina in place with suffocating precision.

“Yes, you offered a diagnosis. But did anyone in this room approve your treatment?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You waited for my judgment. Did I ever say I agreed with you?”

Seraphina opened her mouth.

No words came out.

“No,” Tessalonika answered for her, voice turning colder. “Because your conclusion was reckless. And your proposed procedure would have endangered Abba’s life.”

Seraphina staggered back a step as though physically struck.

“Three years inside the Modern Healing class,” Tessalonika continued, disappointment hardening every syllable, “and you still failed to grasp the most basic responsibility of a healer.”

The elder healer gestured toward Lylah “Meanwhile, someone far less experienced showed better wisdom than you did.”

Lylah remained silent.

“A healer who understands caution,” Tessalonika said sharply, “is infinitely more trustworthy than one blinded by pride.”

Seraphina’s breathing turned uneven.

From the very beginning, she had been certain Tessalonika would stand beside her.

She had already imagined Lylah bowing her head in humiliation.

Imagined the public apology.

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