Marcellus POV I can feel it all. But I cannot move an inch. I am trapped within my own body. It feels like being buried alive. Well, serves me right for trusting the little vixen. For the first time since the death of my mother, I lowered my guard. And to the spawn of my mother's killer, nonetheless. So, every figment of torture that Noosha put me through, gosh, I have well deserved it. I have betrayed my mother. After a gut-wrenching and harrowing torture she endured to keep me alive, after giving up on her life for me to live, what did I do with the chance given? I tossed it all. For whom? Fucking moron, that’s what I am. When I get hold of them, I will burn them all. And this dickhead Conrad is first on my list. I mean, after Noosha, of course. He demeaned my father to a position of a cuckold and an idiot whose wife was fucking around before his eyes. And this is just one of his minor sins.As soon as those thoughts came across my mind, motherfuckers boot merged with my face as he
Malleteagan’s POVWe are slowly but surely advancing down through ill-dimmed, sewer-like channels that separate Oribus from Damnarynth, the next circle of Wengarthria. Now I understand why they call it the way they do. It is a damn labyrinth, although I was told that it got its name from all the damned souls that are built within it. This level of Wengarthria seems like an underworld maze. It is laid out so complexly that it almost reminds of a large underworld ant heap. Ghouls of lost souls loitering around, screeching and beginning for mercy. Arachnoid warriors are protruding and attacking us left, right and centre as we advance through stinky swamp sewage of Damnarynth that reaches my waist, soaking our clothes with gooey, yucky and sticky substance. Gah, this is disgusting—the pungent, retch-inducing stench of the swampy channels cluttered with the foul odour of damned souls. The stench does more damage to us than arachnoids. The arachnoids are just pesky spider-like creatures fu
Malleteagan’s POV -one week after the fall of Damnarynth-After we defeated Damnon and what had left of his army, we continued to advance towards the end of the clearing where smidgens of amber flakes of magic were fused in a border. It formed a shield which separated Damnarynth and Morsburg’s dungeons and fortress. Faes and dwarves, with Thersar and Nexelex, were leading the warriors. When they got close to the armoury border, fae and dwarves started to stick the chthonic weaponry in the shield while Thersar and Nexelex rose their arms high in the air and invoked enchantment. Every attempt to break through was blocked and deflected. Warriors who tried to penetrate the shield just fell down through the ground, and then they would disappear. Where are they? The ground swallowed every single warrior who attempted to attack the shield. Nexelex and Thersar vanished before my very eyes.Kandreah and I exchanged hesitant looks and nodded to each other in unspoken understanding and silent a
Malleteagan’s POVThersar looked as if he was in the same thrill that Kandreah was a few moments ago. I forgot that he is a necromancer fae elder, too. A few vampires sent to pass the pavement waved to us from the other side. They seemed safe and sound. As soon as they passed, smoke on the pavement ebbed, pentagrams reshuffled to their initial, indecipherable position on pavement and fire and flames of pentagram dimmed and disappeared. We would be in the dark again if Thersar hadn’t provided us with the flame from his fingers. Kandreah got back to his…well…I wouldn’t say normal…but to his usual self. “Those are necromancy spikes on the walls. They suck the life away from the victim and the victim’s soul. They can’t do anything to vampiric faes as we are undead, but we are also not alive technically. Smoke is the essence of the living souls, their life hopes and dreams that were harvested along with their lives. If a living soul passes throughout, pavement slabs activate the walls; wa
Malleteagan’s POV With our gazes cast down, we were butchering through in skirmish with Veltalas, chopping their skulls off with chthonic axes and advancing through the vast space of the main Morsburg dungeon. Without the ability to see and use eyesight as a lead in the fight, we had to rely on our other senses entirely. I have lost a few more omegas, and Thersar lost a few lesser faes. Nexelex lost a few warriors, too, while Kandreah lost none. When we finally managed to break through and get to the dungeon's exit, we ended up in an enormous space in front of Morsburg's central dungeon. We were breaking through the town of Morsburg now.I finally lifted my gaze. Darkness and chaos that heavily saturated the interior of Morsburg dungeons were grazed and broken by purple and neon crimson lightning hues wrapped in the all-present purple fog of Wengarthria. The broad front entrance of the Morsburg encampment was closed off with smaller dungeon-like derelict towers on the left and right.
Meena’s POV Something’s wrong. I felt the strong call of the mate bond and overpowered Aralyn for control. My mate is unwell. Aralyn rightfully holds a grudge against him. She was the one who suffered most by his hand when I still wasn’t awakened. Marcellus and I did have some fallouts, don’t get me wrong. Especially during those times when he used telepathic abilities to torture her. But unlike Aralyn, I could understand the reasons for his bitterness, to an extent, I guess. The fact that he projected his thoughts, memories and emotions to us speaks volumes. I understood that he went through a lot. And many of his wrongdoings and plight are linked to our maternal family. That does not justify what he did, not at all, but gives some reason and explanation for his behaviour. Unlike Aralyn, I can see beyond his past wrongdoings. I can see that he, in the end, changed the course of his actions and tried to right his wrongs. I can see beyond the bitter, revenge-seeking, lonely boy who
Nethanaiah’s POVI remembered the last time I saw him, some centuries ago, his eyes were of eerie steel grey colour. And now, when his eyes opened widely in a sudden and sharp spasm, his irises combusted in neon lava, no traces of his usual steel grey colour that I remembered. He was gasping for air while bouts of what looked like an ichor blood exploded from his mouth. This ichor-like blood started to trickle down his nose while he managed to breathe through whatever internal shock he went through and to grit and scream “nun” over and over again. This lasted for several hours. Three of us barely managed to contain him on the bed when his body began to spasm and shudder violently, and then he was crushed by some unknown force as if he were hit by something or someone. After a few hours of fighting with the demon prince of Wengarthria, he fell into a deep coma-like sleep, and we all fell on the floor, exhausted. He looked like he had died. The only signs of life were his shallow but s
Kandreah’s POV We haven’t yet passed the Mortherra, the bridge between Morsburg and Waltherra. No, more precisely, we haven’t moved an inch from where we were after Morsanctu was defeated. We are seriously struggling to advance as Azabrahs are wreaking havoc amongst our soldiers without even laying a finger on our fighting forces. Thersar, Malleteagan and I merged our powers to make a protective cloak around us, Nexelex and ranked warriors of our allied forces. If it were any different situation than this, I would say that our cloak was spectacular, merging Thersar’s dark magic and mine, together with Malletegan moonlight haze tendrils of power in one magnificent armour. However, there was no time for gloating and admiring the armour. Our low-ranked warriors were taking the greatest brunt of Azabrah’s silent and motionless attack. The four of us stood there in what would seem as a stoic and static observation of Azabrah's clash with our warriors. But we were actually assessing and st