Rama was busy getting prepared for bed when she heard a knock on the door, but Draco beat her to it as he reached it in a millisecond with his long legs.
Swinging the door open, a servant stood in front of him and his face suddenly contorted at the sight of the asly being in front of him.
Rama stole glances as she eavesdropped on the conversation between the master and servant.
"Good evening m..." The servant was rudely interrupted by Draco as soon as he opened his mouth. Rama wanted to chip in but rather she stayed silent, it was Draco after all, he would never change.
"Go straight to the point." He growled impatiently, making the servant almost stutter and bite his tongue at the sa ti. She could hear his heart pace elevate drastically from fear and his body temperature imdiately go hot.
"Lord Zamiel calls for your presence, a parcel has been delivered to you." The servant inford with a trembling voice.
Without saying a word, he waved his hand at the servant gesturing for him to leave and he did, hurriedly.
"You have a parcel?" Rama queried as she wore her robe.
"Let’s find out what it is." He said with an empty smile tugging the edge of his lips up, but amidst that wily smile, she saw a dangerous flicker flit across his eyes.
"And who it’s from." She indicated.
Extending his hand toward her, she took it as he led her to the hall where Zamiel had been waiting. Opening the door, they both erged into the room to see Zamiel standing in front of the parcel.
She approached the parcel with heedful eyes. It was a dium sized black box, finely crafted from mahogany and tal, with intricate, golden engravings embedded on the surface, but atop the lid was seated a crest of a skull and a viper.
It was the crest of the Blackthorne kingdom. She was well aware because they had once allied against an enemy kingdom, but what she found odd from that ti until now, is that the ruler had never been ntioned, caught a glimpse of or even talked about.
Only the na had been heard and from the looks of it, it was a woman. The Blackthorne kingdom wasn’t ruled by a king, it was ruled by a queen but the identity of their ruler was been concealed in the void of obscurity.
And her na was Thallasa, her last na unknown.
"You have a gift sent by the Blackthorne Kingdom, how thoughtful." Zamiel said in dried sarcasm.
Rama stood behind and watched while Draco moved closer, preparing to open it. With a swift precision, he shut the lid open and the sight inside made Rama gasp with startled filled eyes, while the two demons were rather impassive at the sight.
Seated inside the encrusted box, was a bloody head of their own person, a mid-ranking vampire. It’s eyes were gouged out of its sockets, making the sight an unpleasing one as blood oozed out of the hole in where its sockets were missing.
Then her eyes narrowed to the raised lid. On the surface of the lid was ’YOU’RE NEXT!’ written boldly on it with dried blood.
"That was the planted spy supposed to gather information from Blackthorne kingdom." Zamiel remarked, gulping down a glass of wine.
"But how? They’re only humans." Rama muttered.
"Not all of them." Draco implied with certainty as he stared at the bloody head.
"You think so of them have powers?" She queried, wide eyed at the uncanny revelations.
"Not so, just one." Zamiel indicated in a grave tone. It seed as if one of them possessing powers was more dangerous than a few of them.
"Perhaps it’s The Queen? No one has ever caught a glimpse of her, she’s been hidden so discreetly from the rest of the world. Maybe it’s because of the power she possesses, a power that we know nothing about." Rama pointed out, but the nonchalant looks on their faces made her realize that they were already aware of her theory.
"We’ll take care of them, nothing’s too powerful for to handle, not a demon nor an angel." Draco spoke with a whiff of arrogance oozing from his aura, but amidst his ego, he was right, because he angels and demons were in the highest hierarchy of paranormal creatures, although the existence of the gods and goddesses was an exceptional one, as so of their kinds were immortal and the powers they possessed were beyond even supernatural comprehension.
"We shouldn’t be too laid back about it, you don’t know what power she wields. They might attack the kingdom anyti." Rama remarked.
"That’s the difference, we have ti but they don’t. If they wanted to attack, they would have done it. They’re waiting for sothing, sothing that they can’t do without, they need ti and that’s enough for us to defeat them." Zamiel said thoughtfully.
"We’re on the perfect timing then, tomorrow by moon rise, we’ll attack the Blackthorne kingdom and lay waste to everything life has ever touched," Draco swore beneath his breath with a wicked smirk.
"They are innocent people too, the only ones we need to get rid of are their military and whoever holds the power." Rama impulsively chipped in.
Draco sighed darkly as he said "Rama, there are no innocents in an enemy kingdom when it cos to Empire attacks, lives are bound to be lost. It’s best the Blackthorne kingdom burns for good, so no power can arise from the ash ever again, it would be a lesson to the other human and nonhuman kingdoms, far and near when they hear of their fate, but if I choose to show rcy to even a single person, we will never be taken seriously by any kingdom."
Rama stared at him for a long montary lapse of silence while Zamiel quietly sneaked out of their sight, giving the couple space. He wouldn’t want to be part of their bickering after all.
"I’m not asking you to change, I’m asking you to spare the lives of the innocents." She said, her voice lower than a barely audible whisper.
"I cannot fulfill that wish love, they owe you nothing, that is an enemy kingdom we’re talking about. If they possessed my powers, they wouldn’t hesitate to burn every single kingdom down and enslave every race on earth, am I not being rciful enough?" He growled darkly, the air rippling with the escalating tension.
"rciful? Do you know how many innocent bloods you’ve spilled in your quest for power? Do I have to remind you of your cruelty towards , what you did to my people and my Empire? Should I remind you of my lost lineage and my kingdom that you burnt to the ground?!" She roared with visible anger flaring in her eyes as the jade hue was suddenly replaced with a dark red tinge swirling into her irises.
Silence echoed back to them as she glared hotly at him, and if looks were bound to kill, he would have dropped dead right there.
"I thought so too. You’re nothing close to being rciful." Her voice drastically tuned down as she looked at him with a blank countenance.
"You claim hatred for your father, but there’s no difference between the both of you, the only difference is your goals." She hissed bitterly before stomping out on him angrily.
She was enraged and she knew her words would hurt him, but she had no other choice but to spout out those words to prevent innocent lives from being slain.
As she marched down the corridors, her heart bled with guilt. She thought of turning around and apologizing, but she strengthened her resolve and kept on walking without looking back, not even once.
------------
In the heart of the Blackthorne kingdom inside the obsidian castle, a human was being hauled by a guard toward a woman whose form was stolen into the darkness in the shadowy corner of a dimly lit chamber.
Draped in shadows that danced along the walls, stood the dark sorceress, her presence an ominous silhouette against the flickering candlelight. Her ebony robes billowed like storm clouds as she raised her hands, fingertips crackling with malevolent energy.
A sinister vortex ford around her, a whirlpool of midnight hues drawing closer to her outstretched palm as she moved out of the darkness toward the screaming captive held firmly in the grasp of the bulky guards.
With a predatory grace, she seized the unfortunate soul, their eyes widening in terror as an ethereal mist, shimring with the faint glow of lost spirits, began to snake its way out from their quivering form. The sorceress leaned in, her obsidian eyes glinting with an unholy hunger, as she pressed her lips against theirs.
In a macabre and horrifying display, the soul was forcefully sucked out, drawn by an otherworldly suction, escaping the victim in wisps of smoky essence. Each breath she took seed to steal the very essence of life itself, leaving behind only hollow shells, devoid of all vitality.
As the sorceress pulled away, her lips stained with the stolen essences, a ghastly satisfaction twisted her features. The stolen soul swirled around her, their anguished whispers rging with her own, enhancing her dark powers, and leaving behind a haunting silence in the wake of her malevolent act.
"When I devour enough souls, I’ll be strong enough to retain the entity of my ancestors and the devil’s son’s powers would be second to mine." She cackled with evil laughter rolling off her lips as she caressed a vessel.
Crafted from a lustrous obsidian, the vessel exuded an aura of ancient power, its surface etched with intricate glyphs that shimred faintly in the subdued light.
Sealed with an ornate stopper adorned with shimring gemstones that seed to hold the cosmos within, the vessel appeared to contain naught but an inky void, an abyss that concealed the unimaginable within its depths.
Legend whispered of its creation, an enigmatic sorcerer forged this vessel eons ago, using a blend of alchemy and forbidden sorcery to entrap the very essence of the most formidable and revered sorcerers of their ti. These revered figures willingly offered fragnts of their souls, believing their wisdom and prowess would transcend the ages within this spectral prison.
As she gazed upon the phial, an unsettling sensation of myriad whispers and suppressed power perated the air. The contained souls seed to stir, their spectral energies pulsating faintly, yearning for release to possess a physical form, but if not strong enough to retain the powers, the physical form it possesses would be destroyed.
It was said that the vessel held not just the souls but also the distilled knowledge, the essence of magic refined over centuries. The amalgamation of these unparalleled sorcerous minds within the vessel granted it an aura of both reverence and dread, for the power it contained was potent enough to shape the very fabric of existence in the right hands, or wreak unimaginable havoc if unleashed upon the world.
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