Omar’s POV The battle imploded with fist fights, claw slashes, swirling currents of magical strikes, attacks and counterattacks, blood, sweat and corpses in the middle of the Macabantran fortress arena. I have never seen such a dreadful yet vast fortress. It was built of obsidian stone walls with veins of embers running through its interior. The floors were covered with brimstone and embers and saturated with the smell of sulphur, burnt flesh, death and decay. The warriors who had unfinished business, sins or unresolved conflicts in the world of living could not stand on the Macabantran grounds; we learned that the ground burned their feet and drained their life energy. Thersar quickly problem-solved this by casting a thin layer of magic on the ground. That, however, meant that he had to multitask as he commanded the Fae, fought, and used his magic to create armour. He seemed exhausted and worn out yet focused on the battle and determined to win it. This horrible castle-like arena
Erzelus’s POVWhen I managed to open the doors to Macabantran castle, everything seemed to be happening in a flash of light, and everything was in a blur. I was sucked into the Macabantran dungeons at a breakneck pace. The force of Nahevra’s command had such a strong pull on me that regardless of my attempt to resist and fight it, I was absorbed into dungeons at warp speed, like dirt into a sponge.I woke up in a cage. I was lying on the dirty floor, which was filled with rotten corpses, moulded food the corpses around me probably ate when they were alive, rotten remains, and dust of Wengarthria. I was naked and in my human form, smudged and dusted with crappy substances of soil and dust of Macabantran dungeons, tied with silver and wolfsbane. The stench of death and decay here is unbearable, more than in any other place we have visited in Wengarthria. The sound of the demons’ orgies somewhere adjacent blended with the cackles of those demons who were passing by my cell and mocking me
No!!!! Fuck!!!! Don’t!!!! Stop Nahevra!!!! I heard Kandreah snarling; now I was certain that this was his voice, which came from one of the nearby cells.“…Ok, ok…you can control him!!! You proved your point, I fucking believe you!!! But please stop him now!!!” Kandreah was snarling as he shook the bars of his cell, trying to break the bars and get out. Idiot. Don’t show weakness. They will use it against both of us. But, I must say I wasn’t expecting the bat boy to care. He is a cool guy. I am starting to like him; he feels like that stupid, annoying little brother I never had. “Well, you said please…I have a thing for the men who are willing to beg.” Oh, the spine of the bitch, or should I better say the lack thereof. I saw her approaching Kandreah’s cell and grabbing his shirt to get him closer to the cell bars. She then licked him across his neck, face and ear while moaning, “I find it…sexy” she hissed and grinned before she tossed him on the ground and turned to me, saying: “Sto
Erzelus’s POVThe last thing I saw was a tear drop coming from Kandreah’s bloodshot eyes, which were entirely overtaken by the neon crimson colour of his vampire. His destiny is as pitiful as mine, if not even more. Before I drew my last breath, I wanted to say that I didn’t blame him for this. I tried to tell him that I understood he couldn’t disobey Nahevra’s command the same way I could not fight it off from the first second when the Macabantran gate opened, and the force of her command pulled me in. But no words left my mouth as this was not a part of my command. My last thought was that I felt sorry for Kandreah and that he would never know I didn’t blame him for anything. I know that guilt will eat him alive, the same way as it did when he killed Thersar in Sanguineabyss. The pain, the…darkness…it suffocates. Before I closed my eyes for one last time, I heard that little voice again:“..Red flowers are not scattered across the barren land, and my bedIt is not the red flowers bu
Aralyn’s POV“She cannot wield or control her celestial powers at all. Of course, my granddaughter is powerful, but her abilities are raw, unrefined, and completely out of her control. And that is normal because no one had trained her to wield, control and manipulate with her celestial powers.” The voice came out of nowhere, sounding like the wind was carrying it. We all turned, and then she showed up. My grandmother, the Moon Goddess. Merlius fell on his knees and bowed instantly while Nat remained standing in silent but blatant disrespect; every pore on her face displayed her disdain and mistrust of the Goddess before us.The surge of rage flared through my body, and I ran towards the bitch, ready to swing my fist into her stupid ethereal face, which held that Mona Lisa kinda annoying smirk.Before I even managed to get closer to her, she evaporated into thin air and transpired right behind my back. I turned to see the glint of amusement mixed with a soft glow in her silver eyes. Ma
Aralyn’s POV As we barged into the lord-knows-which level of Wengarthria after Nat’s headlong…well…and to be honest…daft and rushed plunge through the portal, the first thing I saw was the bastard lying on the floor. When I scanned the scenery around us, it became apparent that we were in a maze-like row of dungeons, with the central, arena-looking-like clearing where the vampire had attacked my father. Malleteagan and the vampire were surrounded by a mob of various demons who were there, watching, cackling, and hooting as if they were at some rock concert. The clamour and racket of the demons in the arena were reinforced by the stereo sound of laughter and uproar, echoing and breaking out from prisoners in cells. The mass of demons in the arena was hard to catch with an eye. Although we had magic, and although I am confident in my fighting skills as well as in those of Merlius and Nat, we would probably be squashed in a stampede of these demons before we could eve
Aralyn’s POV It looks like we came too late. What will that mean for me and the promise I gave to bloody Selene? It is ironic a bit, I guess, that the guy who sought my head for years and wanted me dead since I was born is dying, and the last thing he will see is my face, and I am very much alive while he is on his deathbed in some smelly dungeon of hell. It was the same hell where I spent five years in hiding from him to save my life. And I thought that this would make me happy, that feeling of justice would be the one that would consume me, but it did not. I don’t want him dead. I want him to live with what he has done. Or is this the reason why I don’t want him to die? Is it all about hate and the urge for revenge, or is there some other ulterior motive because of which I want him to live? Is the feeling that wrangles through my body indeed the hate towards Malleteagan, or is it…pity? Is it love? Am I that kind of idiot and masochist who is still able to love the person who kill
Aralyn’s POV "Oh, I see we have some VIP guests here! Let me do some intro. I am Meeran, your almost-relative. To what do I owe this pleasure? Let me try to guess - did you come to see me, Daddy, nanna Noosha or your lover boy, little girl? The bloke called Meeran said with a smirk yet with a dreadfully calm voice while grasping and scrutinising my face with a penetrating stare of his dreadful eyes, which peered from his face shaded by the cloak. Despite his composed tone, one could easily detect an underlying hint of cynicism and a twisted sense of amusement. His touch sent shivers down my spine, and it felt unyielding, as cold as steel; his grip on my chin was unwavering and firm; it felt like he clamped my chin with pliers. I saw him giving a quick nod to his soldiers to hold Merlius and move Nat away from Kandreah and Malleteagan, who were both sprawled on the ground, looking as dead as dodos. His soldiers held Nat and Merlius in a chokehold, who were both struggling to free the
Elantra’s POV I was unable to bear this tension, danger and peril as I watched the cold steel of the blade pressed against Malie's skin and her life hanging on a thread, depending on the whim and mercy of mercurial vampiric Fae. With determination, I spoke out: "King Kandreah, I, Elantra Proserpina Morterey of Wengarthria, am hereby granting you permission to enter the main Macabantran encampment and any of the subrealms of Wengarthria, which are under my jurisdiction! I have done what you asked for, now leave my sister alone”. As I uttered those words, I heard Malie crying out a desperate “no” to me. I could see the relief, hope and determination surge in his eyes as he realised he had been invited. Without a shred of hesitation, he turned around with an obvious intention to leave both of us as if nothing happened, as we meant nothing to him. He obviously didn’t give a damn about us or about the mate bond. We were liter
Elantra’s POV What is your name, love?” he asked me with a palpable rage and an undertone of mockery in his voice. “Elantra,” I responded obediently as if I were the little girl in front of the executioner and not a daughter of the lord of Hell. I knew that the knife on Malie’s throat was a promise that he would kill her on the spot if I didn’t comply. Yes, Malie can be a handful, but she is my twin sister and soulmate, and it would break my heart if something happened to her. I love her, and I want her to live regardless of her being a bitch most of the time. "That is too long for my liking. Ella…darling, I wanted to share something with you and your sister…. Ooh, sorry love, I didn’t quite catch your name…” He smirked and turned his golden-eyed gaze to Malie. She told him to fuck off while struggling in his embrace, trying to set herself free. He whispered something to her ear so quickly and under his breath that I couldn’t even catch what he said despite my c
Elantra’s POV Malie nagged me to visit the battlefield for days, telling me she had found her mate. It was useless to remind her that we Mortereys have little to no chance of finding a mate. I have told her that she is delusional, but when she wants something, there is no way to set her mind off that. And now she had one goal - to visit Macabantrah and test the mate theory out, and for some reason, she is adamant that she want to go there with me. I don’t know what this all was really about: did she want to test the waters of mate bond? Did she want to convince me or herself that this is possible and that maybe she really found a mate? Whatever the reason, I could see that she was consumed and perhaps even excited with the idea. I mean, who could blame her; we spent eternity doing our “job” as dark celestials, daughters of rulers of Hell and Wengarthrian royals. I don’t blame her for wanting some sense of normalcy and to break this millennia old cycle of loneliness. But I als
Kandreah’s POV When I saw Hades’s twin daughters together, I finally understood what people think when they say they can’t see the difference between me and my brother. These two look like doppelgängers! They were as alike as two peas in a pod, and both looked exactly like the woman my warriors described to be seen during the Sanguineabbys and Konneyard battles. Both had ash blond hair smeared with subtle shimmers of lilac - as if they spent all day rolling and rubbing in the field of lavender in full bloom to achieve this hue in their hair. They had those same daunting eyes: one lilac eye like Noosha and one cobalt blue like Hades. Both were as slender as a whippet and had faces that could launch a thousand ships, but their aura stank worse than a fish market on a scorching summer's day. They radiated wickedness, danger, and spite like a pair of black cats crossing your path under a ladder, setting my skin crawling like someone tossed a bucket of spiders on me. To te
Kandreah’s POV While standing helplessly in front of the Macabantran gates, I went through all the stages of grief in the blink of an eye. I went through denial when I managed to work through my pain and drag myself while being pain-stricken with Thersar’s torment in front of the Macabantran gate. I was appalled with horror in front of my eyes. As Thersar’s demise-ridden pain wrecked through every nerve of my body, I watched his last moments with disbelief. Just when I thought that this was the final blow, which would be my undoing, the closeness of my soldiers who died in the battle started to shatter my body inside out, gnawing at my mind and soul. The death of every single soldier in my army was a new blow to my already broken body and heart. After initial shock, denial and disbelief, uncontrollable rage erupted from me. I screamed and tried many ways to break in and barge into the castle, but nothing worked. Even what it meant to be an attention-seeking roar of rage came
Kandreah’s POV We were passing through this infamous shortcut, which was more like a sewage-like labyrinth if you ask me, when I bent over and stumbled with an unwilling groan before I fell on my knees and stubbed my hands into the dirt and mud of Wengarthria. I felt so weak and dizzy, as if I was just seconds away from collapsing. The high-pitched, blaring sound grated through my ears, threatening to split my head in half. It reminded me of the ringing of life-supporting machines when someone dies, but as if someone put amplifiers on them. Beads of sweat protruded along with searing pain, the ache like no other which surged through me, piercing and rippling through my body. Every drop of blood in my body felt like it was scorching, sizzling, and as if it was about to combust in flames before turning to ashes. The agony was unbearable. It felt like I was dying. Only once before, I felt the pain like this, when I lost my soulmate. Regardless of the severed bond between
Erzelus’s POV But it looked like someone in the background had greater control over the forsaken Lycans than I did because drums rattled again in the next moment, along with a command rumbling to forsaken Lycans to attack. It overpowered and overrode the natural inclination of forsaken Lycans to submit to their Alpha. I am not their Alpha anymore. They do not answer to me anymore. They are not part of our pack anymore, and if there was even a smidgen of doubt in their logic, reasoning and where their loyalty now lies, it all became clear when they started attacking Lycan troops. My Lycans were over-excited with my comeback, and this idling is not something we can afford. This can cost us battles and lives; we have no time for this. Because, on the other side of the castle, dwarves, Fae, and witches were still in the ruckus of the battle against Wengarthrians. I stepped in while handholding Lev and roared: “Drop the fucking formalities! Lycans, regroup! Flank the Allies! Shield the
Erzelus’s POV The interior of the encampment was a vast, oval-shaped, dark and massive hall the size of a coliseum. Instead of walls, the encampment was enclosed with grand window-like structures, which seemed impenetrable. These window-like walls didn’t allow even a figment of light to protrude. Each window was adorned with vile and despicable frescoes depicting the destruction, apocalyptic violence and scenes from the underworld. In every corner of this eerie city-sized castle, there seemed to be an attempt at creating a macabre amphitheatre. It was as if a disturbed and malevolent architect had deliberately sought to challenge, mock, distort, and contrast every conventional thought, philosophy, aesthetic, and norms in rational thought, art, architecture, and culture, transforming them into something dark, ominous, and bizarre. This colossal castle seemed like an erratic response of a sinister rebel in architecture, a hub for defying the traditional building. Every corn
Erzelus’s POV Mark's contorted body serves as a testament to his tragic death and grim fate, symbolising just one of too many lives that have been and will continue to be lost in this relentless battle. The weight of lives lost became heavier as I scanned through limbless, scavenged, deformed and mutilated remnants of warriors from both sides, which hung from the ceilings. The cadavers blanketed the grotesque frescoes and icons of the Macabantran encampment. Bodies were strewn everywhere, suspended from ceilings and windows, littering the ground— that is the grave extent of casualties that this battle yielded. And many more are to yet die before the battle finishes. The windows were sprayed with blood and innards of diverse creatures who lost their lives, looking like someone had a paintball battle with leftovers of burnt shepherd pie. Corpses and bodies of soldiers from every walk of life were flailing across the Macabantran fort; mush and gore were everywhere, littering th