Все главы MAD END'S DECEPTION: Глава 151 - Глава 160

GILDEONStrong magic surrounded him, pulsing from the fog. It thickened, humming with energy until he realized he was no longer in the churchyard, nor was it a night.He stood slowly, finding himself inside a grander church. Tall, arched windows let sunlight stream in, casting colored patterns on the stone floors. Ornate wooden pews were filled with people listening to the parish priest—a solid, imposing old man. At the back sat a young man in a black robe, his curly hair and sharp eyes strikingly familiar.It was Vergilius.Gildeon felt suspended in time, searching for the present Vergilius or his copies but finding none. Had the fog brought him back to the past again? What was Drusden up to now?He moved cautiously as the communion began. Young Vergilius assisted the priest, his eyes warm and innocent. A young woman approached. Gildeon noticed the faint smile exchanged between her and Young Vergilius. The old priest caught

GILDEONHe watched the next scene unfold. Young Vergilius, now a vampire, stood in the old priest’s depraved chamber. The sick bastard had gathered another group of young women, some already naked on his bed.The old man paused halfway through removing his robe and turned to the doorway. “Vergilius, is that you?” he exclaimed, narrowing his eyes. “Word reached me that you had escaped, you ingrate! Bold of you to show your face here after you nearly sent me to meet our Lord.”“Our Lord?” Young Vergilius scoffed, glancing at the naked girls. “You dare invoke His name while committing such a profane act, you old wretch.”Without waiting for a response, Young Vergilius launched himself at the old priest, hurling him across the room. His mouth latched onto the man’s neck, and the wet sound of blood being drawn filled the air as the girls around them screamed, too terrified to move.Gildeon watched as Young Vergilius nearly drained the p

GILDEONAnger and disappointment burned in his chest. “We had a plan for this, Roselia,” he growled, his gaze hardening on the witch. “What the fuck happened?”“Drusden set a trap in the fog, My Lord.” Roselia stared down at her trembling hands, caked with dirt and blood. “An efficient one… to capture Miss Arah.”“You were supposed to use your fog.”Her head snapped up. “If I used it as a barrier for Miss Arah, those witches would’ve taken me down right then and there.” She pointed to her chest. “They had their orders—I saw it plain in their eyes.” She shook her head and sucked in a shaky breath. “I made a choice.”His jaw clenched. “To give up Arah instead?”“My Lord, that barrier was never going to hold for long,” she said firmly. There was a subtle hint of hurt in her eyes that made Gi

ARAHShe tried to resist stepping closer to the stone bed for as long as she could, but Vienna’s bangle held her in an iron grip. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white as she pushed back. But it was a damn struggle. It was as though an invisible wall pressed against her from behind, threatening to crush her if she didn’t give in.“You’ll only hurt yourself if you keep fighting it, Mrs. Ayadi,” Drusden’s voice rang out from behind her. She glanced back, her eyes sweeping over the red hooded robe he wore. Noticing her stare, he glanced down at himself and smoothed his hands over the fabric. “Ah, this is just a formality,” he said with a shrug. “Not my usual style, but necessary.”“I won’t give you people what you want!” she protested, clinging hard to her resolve. Every second she could buy felt vital. Gildeon had to get here in time.&ldqu

ARAHShe was standing on a farm. The morning air was sharp and cool, carrying the smell of damp earth and manure. In the distance, a herd of cows grazed lazily, tearing into the grass, their low, rumbling moos punctuating the quiet.A man stood a few yards away, working with a pitchfork to gather loose hay into neat rows. His faded plaid shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stretched across his broad back as he leaned into each motion. His hat—an old, fraying straw thing—was pulled low, concealing most of his face.From the modest farmhouse, a beautiful woman emerged. Her blonde hair was tucked under a scarf tied neatly at her chin. Her skirt was simple and practical, reminding Arah of the countryside outfits she’d seen in old movies. She cradled a woven basket in one arm.The man straightened, looking up from his work, and smiled. Arah could tell by the warmth in their gazes that they were a happily married couple.“I’ve already f