The Devil's Cursed Witch novel Chapter 490

Draven and Morpheus, though the human leader tried to keep them busy, had their full attention on Ember. Even from a distance, they could clearly hear what Ember and her brother were talking about.

All of a sudden, both of their sharp senses caught something unusual — and they reacted in a flash, faster than any ordinary gaze could follow. Without hesitation, they used their powers in an instant, striking down the dark hooded figures that had positioned themselves between them and Ember.

Draven and Morpheus' attacks were merciless, and the hooded figures fell to the ground in moments — but…

A horrific scene awaited them once those hooded enemies were no longer there to block their view.

A man — Rhian — had wrapped his arms around Ember to protect her, and a black staff, glowing and pulsing with dark magic, was pierced through his back.

Before they could fully process what they were seeing, hundreds of hooded figures began to emerge from all directions.

Without a word, Draven and Morpheus moved like flashes of light — both knowing exactly what needed to be done.

Morpheus appeared instantly at Ember's side, his large, golden, armor-like wings spreading wide and surrounding the siblings — shielding both Ember and the gravely injured Rhian.

At the same time, waves of black magic shot toward them from the attacking wizards, but the divine armor of Morpheus' wings and Draven's dark powers blocked them all before they could reach Ember.

"Ember, are you alright?" Morpheus asked, his voice filled with worry. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make sure she was safe, but Rhian — bleeding and unconscious — was still in her hold.

Ember finally snapped out of her shock and looked up at Morpheus with teary eyes. "Rhian… he…"

"Don't be scared, alright?" Morpheus said softly, trying to comfort her as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

With his golden wings still wrapped protectively around them and trusting Draven to handle the attackers, Morpheus reached down and carefully removed the black magic-laced staff from Rhian's back. The prince winced in pain, the dark magic clearly causing more harm than the wound itself.

Ember immediately pulled off her coat and pressed it firmly against Rhian's wound, her eyes brimming with tears.

Once again, someone was sacrificing themselves for her — and it broke her heart.

"We can't let anything happen to him," Ember said, her voice shaking with worry. "Do something, Morph!"

Morpheus checked Rhian's life force — it was weakening rapidly.

"Draven can hold his life with his darkness — at least until we get him to the witch clan," Morpheus said, glancing toward Draven.

Draven was standing his ground, fighting the overwhelming number of wizards single-handedly. His dark powers lashed out with ruthless precision, knocking down enemy after enemy, their bodies falling like withered leaves.

"Draven, this human needs your help," Morpheus called out. "Let's switch."

Draven heard him. With a powerful blow of his dark energy, he sent the remaining wizards flying. Seizing the moment, Draven moved back toward Morpheus, who was already standing up to take his place.

"Those wizards are powerful because of divine blood. Someone has given it to them. Be careful," Draven warned as he approached.

No wonder those wizards had dared to fight against the two most powerful beasts.

"I can handle them," Morpheus replied coldly as he walked forward, his golden wings wide open.

In a flash, a long sword appeared in his hand — a sword he had only drawn on the battlefield in the past.

It's time to sharpen my sword on some rusty bones, Morpheus thought, casually rotating his wrist as he gripped the hilt. His eyes glowed bright gold, his hair shifting to the same radiant hue as he prepared to unleash his newly upgraded powers.

Half the wizards Draven had slain lay scattered, but the remaining half — though injured — were now surging back after absorbing the powerful blow from Draven.

You dare hurt my mate? Morpheus's golden eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint.

The next moment, the Divine Eagle vanished from his spot, leaving behind only a violent gust of wind. And then — one by one — the heads of the wizards began to roll across the ground.

Meanwhile, Draven focused on Rhian, using his power of darkness to halt the black magic corrupting the prince's body.

He's human… I can't use too much of my power or it'll backfire, Draven thought, frustration building. I need to get him back quickly. But I can't teleport — it would harm him more.

"Draven, what happened? Is he not going to be alright?" Ember asked anxiously, holding Rhian tightly.

"We need to get him to the witch clan immediately. But I can't teleport him," Draven said grimly.

Ember looked at Morpheus, still cutting through the waves of wizards like they were nothing, even as more of them appeared from the shadows, as if their numbers were endless.

"Then how are we—" she began, but before she could finish, Draven moved away swiftly.

A moment later, a majestically huge black dragon stood towering before them, his dark scales gleaming under the moonlight, eyes burning like embers.

A deafening roar split the air, shaking the ground and sending fear through every human present. They scattered, running to hide wherever they could.

With a wave of power, Draven lifted both Ember and Rhian onto his massive back, preparing to take flight.

"Morph!" Ember called out as she clutched Rhian, watching Morpheus fight. He was a vision of wrath and grace, slaying wizards as though they were mere shadows — nothing before him.

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