The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation (Valeria) novel Chapter 271

NARRATOR

Lucrecia fought with all her strength, kicking as Silas lifted her into the air, surrounded by a dark shroud of shadows.

The specters howled frenetically, absorbing all that powerful magic their master allowed them to reach through his connection.

Her boots twitched in spasms midair, her veins translucent like dark cobwebs beneath her pale skin.

Lucrecia couldn’t believe this was how it would end. No, no, she couldn’t die like this!

With the last of her magic, with her final will, she thought of exploding like a supernova.

She would take that bastard to the grave with her.

She closed her eyes, looking defeated, sunken, hopeless.

Now! The magic pulsed in her chest, concentrated, pain tearing through her from within, but she did it.

She would make it.

YOU AND I ARE GOING TOGETHER, WITH ME, TO THE VERY END!

She roared inside, opening her eyes to give him one last victorious look.

No, no, why was he laughing? You’re going to die, you bastard! Why are you laughing?!

“I don’t think so, you damn whore. This time, I won’t let you hurt my man,” a voice cursed in her ear.

“Mmmmnnnn,” Lucrecia vomited more blood.

The flames still burned in the mirror behind her, from which a woman had emerged through the portal with a deadly sword that now pierced her chest.

The body of one of the most powerful witches was reduced to a wreck.

Her once healthy, rosy flesh now hung from bare bones, shriveled as if thousands of years had suddenly crashed down upon her.

Without magic to sustain the shell of her beauty, her true ugliness was laid bare.

She looked down, her head hanging, to see the sharp blade impaled exactly where the last of her magic had gathered, now being completely consumed.

Sigrid watched her drop to her knees with a dull thud, hands bracing against the floor, stained with blood and filth.

With deep-seated hatred rooted in her soul, she tore the sword out of her body with ruthless force, without an ounce of mercy.

Lucrecia collapsed onto the tiles, crumbling, dying.

Silas had drained her of all her power.

“This is for that treacherous stab from that slave,” she spat at her, spitting on her.

“Sigrid…” Silas immediately stepped closer, frowning.

Sigrid looked at him, exhaling in relief. She had gone mad searching for a way to get there.

Silas pulled her into a tight embrace.

He knew she was powerful, but when he caught the scent of her blood and saw his hand stained from her back, he nearly lost his mind.

“This is it,” Silas said, kicking the steel door hard, making it swing open as if it were paper.

When Sigrid stepped into that place, her soul dropped to the floor.

Goddess, no punishment would ever be enough for this bitch.

From high above, standing on what seemed like a bridge, she looked down into the depths, where dozens of half-dead eyes stared back at her from the abyss.

The air was thick, heavy with an acrid stench that filled the chamber.

An overwhelming reek of misery, bodily waste, and death permeated every corner.

In the middle of the darkness, many meters below them, dozens of elemental slaves were chained, piled on top of each other like animals.

Lifeless eyes and sunken faces stared up with fear and desperation.

Some didn’t even have the strength to lift their heads, their bodies weakened to the brink of death.

“Sigrid, I can handle this. Get out of here,” Silas told her, trying to take the whip from her hands.

He didn’t want her there, didn’t want her light to be tainted by the darkness of this place.

He didn’t want her to see the horror he knew far too well.

“No.” Sigrid swatted his hand away firmly, her eyes blazing with pure rage.

She yanked the whip toward her, making Lucrecia’s body jerk like a rag doll, falling at her feet.