Marcellus’ POV They were forcing me to look at the mirror of retribution and punishment. The mirror in front of me reflected the scenes from my past, memories of my mother's tortured screams and the anguish in her eyes. The surge of emotions overwhelmed me as the two cunts continued lashing me in synchrony with the projections of my mother’s torture. My mind raced with memories of my mother's suffering, each strike of their whip a painful reminder of my past wrongdoings. Inability to protect my mother and elders, my brutal torture and assault on Aralyn and Naevres…I was in a fucking agony. Scenes of my mother’s torture faded away and were replaced by the scenes of Aralyn holding a lance. The next scene was that of me looking absentmindedly, with chaotic magic exuding from my eyes, while chanting the words of the Moonlight curse and looking possessed before I fell on the ground of the Wengahrtria encampment. Somewhere in the background, the voice could be heard: "The child belonging
Thersar’s POVWhen that power pull dragged Erzelus and Kandreah into Macabantran fortress, we followed to the castle to help them and fight. I was reluctant to get in the battle with a battalion of warriors without two of our greatest commanders, but I had no options. Retreat or surrender is not even a distant option as we were too deep in this; it would be cowardice, and I still believed that we had realistic chances to conquer Macabantrah and win this war, even with the disadvantage of not having my twin and Erzelus by my side. I mean, we still have dozens of thousands of witches, dwarves, fae and Lycan warriors who are eager to fight for our cause. That was why I commanded entry to Macabantrah castle regardless of my concern for Erzelus and Kandreah, who are missing in action and are lord knows where. Fuck it, I can pull off the victory with Omar in command of Lycans, with witches under the command of Rowena and Marlekeen and Nexelex leading the dwarves. I will be in charge of the
-sometime before Thersar was stabbed in Macabantrah--In the Macabantran dungeons-Kandreah’s POVHumiliation. Rage. Despair. All these emotions were brewing within me. Although I had the power within me to kill them all, I couldn’t move an inch without Nahevra allowing me. I was entrapped within my own body. The feeling of helplessness. Is this how mortals feel when they are in a comma? Now I understand how dreadful it is to be able to see, feel and have a desire to take action but not being able to do so. Is this how those whom I compelled before felt? Is this how those damned to spend eternity in this Wenganthrian shithole feel when they compel them and impose their tortures and punishment upon them?I am the power. I am the emperor. I am the commander. I am the ruler of the vampiric fae. Compulsion is what I am and what I do. Karma indeed is a bitch. I still cannot believe that compulsion will be something inflicted on me, that this will be the end of me. Me…the master of compulsi
Aralyn’s POV-A few days after the Konneyard fall, just before the breakthrough of the Alliance army into Macabantrah- Somewhere in Nerzelis forest-“Again”, Nat said calmly, which frustrated me even more. Why is she so calm when I am annoyed, grumpy and frustrated to my wits end? Is this woman even able to raise her voice? She always talks like some enlightened priestess whatsoever. On the other hand, I am a whirlwind of emotions, spanning from rage to ecstatic excitement and happiness and then back to anger in a flicker of a second. And now, I am furious, frustrated and ready to chop off the heads. Maybe the mixture of Malleteagan, Noosha and Selene in me is at fault. They are all nutcases in their own right, if you ask me.“Gah, fuck it, I cannot do it, Nat! Forget it! We are not going anywhere! I am too stupid and incompetent to open it…” I yelled angrily and slumped on the ground in frustration. I wanted to throw myself off into a massive child-like tantrum, like a spoiled toddl
Omar’s POVThe 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 hos
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
Aralyn's POV My story began with love between Malleteagan and Larissa, my parents, which somehow evolved into a never-ending hatred and Malleteagan’s desire for death. Mine death and that of my mother. It is a dark, misty night. Mid-autumn rain sticks on my dirty and torn clothes, mixing with mud, leaves, and branches we picked up while grazing through the forest. Brushes, stems, and trees cut through my clothes and expose my skin even more. My lungs burn from exhaustion, and sweat breaks out in big lumps. I am out of breath and have difficulty picking up the pace with my mother. If she weren't holding my hand, I would fall behind. I would fall directly into the merciless jaws of our predator, Malleteagan. My mother was outsmarting him for years by running away from him and from his desire for our blood. We have been running since the day I was born. No, strike that, since the day I was conceived, as my mother told me. He was always on our tails, despite my mother being a de
Aralyn’s POV While failing to learn from my past mistakes, I glanced back again quickly, and I saw my mother's shadows projected out of her body while my father was in his Lycan form. His Lycan looked like your worst nightmare, like the beast that came straight out of the ninth circle of the inferno. A bear-sized, massive, two-legged monster that looked like an enraged, sadistic, homicidal wolf on a hunt. His obsidian fur glistened blindingly in the hazy night as he shifted before my mother. If the reason for his shift weren't so daunting, just looking at the shine of his fur would make one mesmerised. The only light point on the deadly mass of charcoal black fur were his eyes, now radiating between neon grey and glacier white. The beast before us was truly magnificent and beautiful. Scrap that, nothing beautiful in here, I thought to myself next second when I saw his dragon-like fangs dripping foamy saliva, snarling and snapping towards mother rabidly. He looked monstrous, mur