Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 155

Morgana

The blood moon's crimson light bathed the ancient Moon Temple atop Lycandor Keep in an otherworldly glow. Standing at the center of the circular altar, I surveyed my masterpiece with satisfaction. My era was about to begin.

The massive blood pool before me rippled with dark magic, its surface reflecting the moon's crimson face. The liquid within wasn't merely blood—it was a carefully crafted mixture of werewolf essence, vampire ichor, and arcane components that had taken four years to perfect.

Around the pool's perimeter, about fifty captured werewolves knelt in chains of blessed silver, their bonds inscribed with binding runes. Most were warriors loyal to the Wolf King, though a few were civilians caught in my web. Their fear was intoxicating—a delicious appetizer before the main course.

Draven knelt closest to the altar, positioned deliberately where I could watch his every reaction. Even weakened by the blood moon, his presence radiated defiance. How delightfully futile.

"The blood pool is prepared, my lord," I announced to Lazarus, my voice dripping with feigned servility. The ancient vampire king stood at the altar's edge, his withered form belying the immense power contained within. Three millennia of accumulated strength made him a formidable master—one I had served faithfully while plotting his downfall.

"Excellent," Lazarus replied, his voice carrying absolute confidence despite the distant sounds of battle. "A few desperate werewolves cannot stop what we have planned. When the blood moon reaches its zenith, their power will resurrect our entire race."

I gestured toward the bound prisoners. "Each werewolf represents a node in the magical network. When their essence flows into the pool, it will create a resonance that extends throughout Silverhowl, drawing power from every werewolf in the territory."

"The other covens stand ready?" he inquired.

"Yes, my lord. Vampire strongholds across the continent await your signal. Once you command their combined strength, no force on this world can oppose us."

Lazarus's ancient eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Perfect. I must oversee the final convergence points. Ensure everything proceeds flawlessly, Morgana."

As his footsteps faded, I turned my attention to Garrick, who stood motionless near the temple entrance. My puppet responded to my mental commands with mechanical precision, his will completely subsumed by the Shadow's Blood corruption.

"Begin positioning the sacrifices," I commanded.

Garrick moved without question, directing vampire guards to arrange the werewolf prisoners in a perfect circle around the blood pool. His movements lacked the fluid grace he once possessed—the corruption had stripped away much of his personality, leaving only an obedient shell.

When a guard asked about defensive positions, Garrick's response was flat and emotionless: "Maintain current posts. The mistress requires no interference during the ritual."

I began the ceremony by approaching the first werewolf—a young warrior whose defiant gaze reminded me deliciously of his fallen king. Drawing a ceremonial blade inscribed with blood runes, I made a precise cut across his wrist.

His crimson essence dripped into the pool with an audible hiss. The moment it touched the surface, the blood began to glow with unholy light. The altar's runes blazed to life, and I felt the magical network activating throughout Silverhowl.

The connected werewolves throughout the territory would be feeling the first effects now—a subtle weakening as their life force began flowing toward my ritual. Soon, that trickle would become a torrent.

Draven's eyes widened as he sensed the ritual's true scope. "You monsters… You’re going to drain all of Silverhowl,” he snarled, teeth bared. “I swear, I’ll kill every last one of you.”

“How amusing, Commander Draven. You can hardly save yourself,” I purred, turning to the next sacrifice. "Every pack, every settlement, every lone wolf—their combined essence will fuel our resurrection. Your entire race will serve as the foundation for vampire dominance."

The bound werewolves began howling in anguish as the magical extraction intensified. Their strength flowed out of them like water through a broken dam, each drop adding to the growing power in the blood pool.

Lazarus returned as I reached the midpoint of the ritual, his satisfaction evident. "I can feel it beginning—the power of a thousand generations flowing through ancient channels. Three millennia of exile ends tonight."

"Your wisdom guided us to this moment, master," I said, bowing deeply while hiding my true expression. "Soon, the ancient vampire empire will rise again, and all races will kneel before your throne."

Foolish old creature. If only he knew that I had been manipulating events far longer than he suspected—that his precious revenge was merely the vehicle for my own ascension.

"The convergence approaches its peak," I announced, feeling the blood moon's power intensify. The pool's surface roiled with supernatural energy, dark currents swirling in patterns that hurt to observe directly.

But beneath the altar, I sensed something else—a silver thread of opposing magic. The little human was attempting her counter-ritual, just as I had anticipated. How touchingly predictable.

As the blood moon reached its zenith, I made my move.

The absorption crystals I had secretly positioned around the altar flared to life. Hidden within the ritual circle itself, they began siphoning the werewolf essence away from Lazarus and toward me. The ancient vampire was so focused on the incoming power that he failed to notice the redirection until it was too late.

"Lazarus," I said, dropping all pretense of subservience, "did you truly believe my long servitude was merely to hand you ultimate power?"

His ancient features twisted in shock and rage as he realized the trap. The ritual circle that was supposed to grant him dominion over werewolf kind was instead binding him in place, preventing him from interfering with my true working.

"This entire ritual was designed for me from the beginning," I continued, savoring his dawning comprehension. "Every rune, every component, every carefully placed crystal—all calibrated to channel power to the one who truly deserves it."

The werewolf essence flowed into me like liquid fire, and I felt my strength increasing exponentially. Centuries of careful planning culminated in this moment of absolute triumph.

"Morgana!" Lazarus roared, struggling against the binding magic. "You treacherous witch! I will tear you apart!"

"You cannot even move," I laughed, spreading my arms to embrace the incoming power. "Did you think I would leave anything to chance? You are trapped within the very ritual you thought would crown you emperor."

His fury shook the entire tower, ancient vampire magic clashing against my carefully prepared wards. But the binding held firm, and with each passing moment, I grew stronger while he remained helpless.

The blood moon smiled down upon my triumph, and I smiled back, knowing that after tonight, nothing would ever be the same.