Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 156

Morgana

The power coursed through me like molten fire, each drop of werewolf essence flooding my body with intoxicating strength. My meticulous planning had culminated in this moment of absolute triumph.

But my moment of euphoria shattered like glass.

"THREE MILLENNIA OF POWER IS NOT SOMETHING A TREACHEROUS WITCH CAN BIND!" Lazarus's voice erupted with such fury that the very stones of the temple trembled. "I WILL TEAR YOU APART!"

The ancient vampire's withered form suddenly blazed with incandescent energy. Three thousand years of accumulated power—power I had foolishly underestimated—exploded outward like a supernova. The binding circle I had so carefully crafted began to crack under the assault of his rage.

"You arrogant fool!" I snarled, raising my hands to channel the stolen werewolf power. "Your time ended long ago!"

Our powers collided with devastating force. His darkness was ancient and cold, while my newly acquired strength burned hot with the essence of an entire werewolf nation. The temple shook as we battled, magical energies tearing through the air like warring gods.

Through the chaos, I caught a glimpse of Draven. The werewolf commander's eyes were sharp, calculating—he was preparing for something. Even weakened by his bonds, he watched our battle with the intensity of a predator waiting to strike. I took him for a beast cornered, and shifted more of my focus to my assault on Lazarus.

Despite the vampire lord's furious resistance, my preparation began to show. The absorption crystals I had placed throughout the circle were still functioning, still channeling power to me even as we fought. Gradually, inexorably, I began to push back against his ancient might.

"Your time is over, Lazarus," I laughed, feeling victory within my grasp once more. "Accept your fate and become the stepping stone for my ascension to ultimate power!"

But even as I spoke those words, something unexpected happened.

Garrick, who had stood motionless near the temple entrance throughout the ritual, suddenly staggered. His eyes, which had been empty and vacant for so long, began to flicker with awareness.

"No," I breathed, horror creeping into my voice as I realized what was happening. The magical storm of our battle was disrupting all the delicate enchantments in the area, including the corruption that had made Garrick my perfect slave.

Garrick's head snapped up, his gaze finding mine across the chaotic temple. For the first time in years, I saw genuine intelligence—and growing rage—in those eyes.

"What... what have you done to me?" he whispered, his voice cracking with the effort of speech. Memories were flooding back—he was nothing more than a puppet, of actions taken without his consent, of a will that wasn't his own.

"No one," he snarled, his voice growing stronger with each word, "NO ONE makes me a slave!"

I tried to split my attention, to maintain my assault on Lazarus while dealing with this new threat, but it was too late. Garrick's transformation began—not the slow, controlled shift of a werewolf choosing to change, but the explosive metamorphosis of pure rage.

He erupted into his wolf form, but not the mechanical creature he had been under my control. This was Garrick at his most primal, a massive blood-red wolf driven by suppressed fury. His eyes blazed with the fire of absolute vengeance as he launched himself directly at me.

I raised my hands to cast a protective barrier, but the suddenness of his attack shattered my concentration. Four years of believing him completely under my control had made me complacent. The magical energies I had been directing at Lazarus wavered as I tried to defend myself.

Garrick's massive form slammed into me with the force of a battering ram. I felt his claws tear through my hastily erected shields and bite deep into my chest. The pain was excruciating, but my magic lashed out in desperation.

Dark energy erupted from my hands, piercing through his chest even as his claws raked across mine. We stood locked together for a moment, predator and prey, killer and victim, each delivering mortal wounds to the other.

"Impossible," I gasped, feeling my life force ebbing away. "To be killed by the very puppet I controlled... I cannot accept this..."

But acceptance was irrelevant. Garrick's weight dragged us both down, and we collapsed together beside the blood pool. My crimson life force flowed into the churning waters, mixing with the werewolf essence I had tried so hard to claim. Garrick's wolf form flickered and faded, leaving him in human shape once more, his eyes finally free but growing dim with approaching death.

As darkness closed around my vision, I saw Draven moving, taking advantage of the chaos we had created. My grand design was crumbling, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The last thing I saw was the blood moon above, no longer smiling down on my triumph, but witnessing instead the collapse of everything I had worked to build.

---

Draven

The moment Morgana and Garrick collapsed beside the blood pool, I knew this was our only chance. Three centuries of vampire manipulation were coming to an end in the most dramatic way possible, and I would not let this opportunity slip away.

The ritual circle was in chaos. Lazarus, freed from Morgana's binding but wounded by their magical duel, was desperately trying to seize control of the runaway energies. But without Morgana's will to guide it, the magical energy thrashed about like a wounded beast, lashing out in all directions.

"Foolish witch," Lazarus hissed, his ancient voice carrying pain and rage in equal measure. "She understood nothing of the forces she was trying to manipulate!"

The vampire lord stretched out his withered hands toward the chaotic pool, trying to draw the loose energy into himself. But the backlash was immediate and violent. The uncontrolled werewolf essence, mixed now with Morgana's blood and the lingering traces of her magic, proved toxic to his vampiric nature. Where it touched him, his flesh began to smoke and burn.

This was my moment.

I had been slowly working at my bonds throughout the entire ritual, and the magical chaos around us had weakened the silver chains just enough. With a surge of strength born from desperation, I broke free and sprinted toward the ritual's core.

"Stop!" Lazarus commanded, turning his attention from the pool to me. But he was weakened from his battle with Morgana and struggling to control the runaway energies. His reflexes, though still supernatural, were a fraction of a second too slow.

I slammed into the central crystal formation with every ounce of strength I possessed. The impact sent shockwaves through my bones, but the delicate magical matrix shattered like spun glass. The moment it broke, I felt the magical network throughout Silverhowl begin to collapse.

Meanwhile, I could feel the surge of silver power from deep within the tower, fiercely striking at the very foundation of the ritual—it was Thalia! Her counter-ritual echoed the chaos above, undermining the enemy’s power from within.

The sound of battle grew louder from outside the temple. Then came the moment I had been waiting for. Adelaide, Lycanthar, and their elite guard had at last broken through the encirclement and burst into the temple’s entrance.

"The chains!" I shouted to them over the magical storm. "Free the werewolves from the chains!"

Lycanthar moved with deadly precision, his claws slicing through silver bonds that had held his people captive. Each freed werewolf was another connection severed from the vampire's network. Adelaide worked alongside him, her blessed silver blade cutting through the mystical bindings with supernatural ease.

The combination of our three assaults—my destruction of the crystal nexus, Thalia's counter-ritual from below, and the liberation of the ritual's victims—created a resonance that the vampire magic could not withstand. The blood pool began to boil and churn, its carefully maintained magical properties dissolving into chaos.

Lazarus let out a shriek of rage and despair as he realized his plan was crumbling around him. He made one last desperate attempt to salvage something from the wreckage, lunging toward the nearest absorption crystal. But Lycanthar was there to meet him, and the two ancient beings clashed in a flurry of claws and shadow.

The temple filled with brilliant silver light as Thalia's counter-ritual reached its crescendo, and I felt a moment of pure triumph. The vampire ritual was shattered, and our people were free. The long nightmare that had gripped Silverhowl was finally coming to an end.

The blood moon's collapse had begun, and with it, a new dawn for our people.