The Devil's Warrior Queen-Chapter 215: Moon Rise

The clock ticked and as if time had been inadvertently fast forwarded, the time for the invasion of the Blackthorne kingdom commenced.

The military force was prepared by Zamiel as they set for the unalarmed attack on the enemy kingdom.

Meanwhile, Rama had a twisted feeling in her stomach, in the past one day, she had barely caught a glimpse of Draco’s uncanny shadow.

She knew he was busy with engaging in the preparation of the invasion, but her conscience pricked her. She had wanted to apologize for her brash words, but how could she when he had been occupied the whole day without a single breathing space for them to talk without someone interrupting? She sighed.

Looking out the window, the sun had gone down and the moon slowly peeked out from behind the dark clouds. It was time for them to leave.

Taking out her obsidian dagger, she grazed the blade with her finger slightly, when she smelled his familiar spicy scent fill the room alongside his dark aura.

"It’s time to leave." She heard him say behind her.

Gasping, she turned around to meet him. Her lashes fluttered as she darted her eyes around with guilt "I’m sorry..."

"For what?" He asked, pure curiosity in his eyes as his brows furrowed.

"What I said?" She indicated in uncertainty.

"Ahh, you’ve got to do more than hurt me with words if you’re truly trying to hurt me love." He pointed out with a sarcastic smirk.

"Well....Nevermind, let’s go then." She waved her hands as she proceeded to walk past him but he swiftly pulled her back and pressed his lips against hers.

Amidst the endearing kiss, he whispered "I missed you feisty princess." before pulling away.

"I missed you too." She said with a meek voice as she blushed.

It had only been a day, yet it felt like long years since they had last spent time with each other. Meeting the rest of the vampire armies outside, they mounted on their horses and without wasting another second, they fled from the scene.

The troops of horses galloped into the forest at a rapid pace, the earth underneath them rumbled with a quaking intensity as their hooves collided against the ground.

The wind whipped through their hair and manes as they bolted through the forest and across mountains, the silvery glow of the moon shedding its dim light on their path as they journeyed into the hidden fortress of the Blackthorne Kingdom.

They moved through the trail of a winding path, across a dark valley which led to the path of the fog laden plain ground of the Blackthorne kingdom.

Finally, they came to a halt after a few hours of galloping through forests and valleys.

In the heart of a desolate and mist-shrouded land stood a fortress that defied all patterns of resplendence and intimidation. Rising like a menacing titan from the darkened terrain, the Gothic castle sculpted from obsidian spikes loomed ominously against the dark horizon.

Each tower, each spire, seemed chiseled from the very essence of night itself, a labyrinth of obsidian wrought into an architectural nightmare. The castle’s walls soared skyward, their surfaces adorned with razor-sharp edges, casting elongated shadows that stretched across the eerie landscape like sinister claws. It was unlike anything she had ever witnessed, a symphony of darkness and magnificence merging into one, beautiful yet terrifying.

The main gate, an imposing structure of twisted obsidian, stood sentinel amidst a sprawling expanse of jagged battlements that jutted defiantly into the brooding sky. The very air around the fortress seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, an aura of foreboding that whispered ancient secrets and whispered promises of doom.

The castle’s design exuded a haunting elegance, an intricate fusion of macabre beauty and dreadful functionality. Sinuous arches and spiraling turrets intertwined, their edges honed to a deadly precision that glinted ominously in the faint moonlight. Obsidian gargoyles adorned the ramparts, their chiseled features frozen in eternal, malevolent stare, overseeing the desolate realm with eyes that seemed to pierce through the veil of the night.

Within the fortress lay a labyrinthine network of chambers and corridors, each hewn from the same obsidian material, their surfaces polished to a glossy, reflective sheen that mirrored the flickering torchlight in a thousand fractured reflections. The passageways whispered with the echoes of ancient whispers, carrying the weight of centuries of dark secrets buried within the castle’s obsidian heart.

The Gothic castle of obsidian spikes stood as a testament to an age of shadow and enigma, an architectural marvel that both fascinated and repelled, drawing brave souls to its foreboding embrace while instilling a primal fear that dared not be ignored. In its ominous silhouette against the night sky, it stood as a grim sentinel, a monument to an era veiled in mystery and cloaked in the dark embrace of the arcane.

They all mounted down from their horses and as soon as their feet touched the floor, a cluster of burning arrows whipped through the air directed toward them like a torrent of fire, but just a few inches away from them, the arrows froze midair and before anyone could react instinctively, the flames snuffed out and they all shriveled to dust, a testament to a power greater than logic itself.

Their red eyes rhythmically averted to Draco, his golden orbs burning fiercer than the sun. Averting their gazes back on the guards planted at every inch of the patrol station, the vampires leapt upwards to the stations with a sinister grace as the battle broke out.

Soft clamours erupted from the humans as the vampires laid them to waste, clawing their guts out while draining them dry amidst the fight.

As the vampire troops busied themselves in the fight, they both proceeded into the ominous castle. Opening the double doors leading inside, an echoing rumble filled the dark interior as a streak of moonlight stretched onto the floors. Rama followed Draco’s lead as they went into the castle while the others took care of the measly humans, she could hear their screams from the eerie passageway.

As soon as they emerged inside, the door behind them shut close and just at that moment, the torches on the wall burned with a fiery flame that waved and flickered to cast ominous shadows on the wall.

As the light touched the eerie pattern of the interior, they caught sight of a lone corridor stretching into the unknown. Following Draco’s lead, they moved toward the trail of the corridor.

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Thallasa sat on her throne seat, her form cloaked in the darkness surrounding her as her personal messenger appeared before her with a deep bow.

"Dark Queen, the fortress is under attack." He informed with trembling limbs.

But she was rather nonchalant as she spoke with a menacing calmness "Who is attacking?"

"The night creatures, we’re under attack by the Voltaire Empire." The messenger replied with quivering lips.

Her obsidian eyes gleamed with a feral intensity as she sprouted up from her seat with a reverberating growl "No!!! Not now!!"

She paced around as she gnashed her teeth against each other, the merge of rage and alarm etched on her concealed face, stolen by the darkness.

"Ughh, gather every last one of the armies, hold them back until I’ve successfully possessed the power!" She snarled as she marched angrily toward the intricately designed obsidian vessel sitting atop a small table.

"But dark queen, you haven’t consumed sufficient souls enough to empower you to retain the powers in that vessel for yourself, it might..." Amidst completing his sentence, he was abruptly interrupted by her.

"I am strong enough, get out and do as I say or you’ll be joining the lost souls!" She hissed darkly and the messenger gulped as he nodded and fled from her sight immediately.

Tracing the arcane inscribing on the surface of the obsidian jar, a wicked grin split through her lips as she watched the dark mists swirl within it with power-hungry eyes, it was of a hunger that could never be quelled.

"It is time..." She whispered with a hungry strained voice as she opened the lid, freeing the entrapped souls with unimaginable powers.

As she opened the lid, the jar trembled, releasing tendrils of luminous energy that writhe and coil like snakes towards her awaiting open mouth, ready to devour the souls of her powerful ancestors and possess ancient powers beyond her capability.

As the spectral streams touch her lips, a malevolent radiance courses through her, causing her entire eyes to go black with dark mists swirling into them while her form contorts in an eerie dance of consumption as the thick black tendrils flood into her mouth like a torrent of darkness.

The souls, drained of their ancient powers, vanish within her, leaving behind an unsettling echo that reverberates in the castle’s chambers. And yet, with each stolen essence, the dark sorceress’s presence seemed to swell with an uncanny strength, her aura intensifying as she became an embodiment of the ancient magics devoured through her insatiable hunger for supremacy.

Black tendrils crawl through her pale skin like snakes as the ancient powers of her ancestors spread through her body.

She laughed wickedly as her skin sparked with the surge of inexplicable power streaming into her blood and a maniacal look flitting through her dark gaze.

"Finally, the power is mine." She breathed out, every air rolling off her lips emanating raw, distinct power.

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