Chapter 92

Chapter 92


It felt like wading through a simmering pool of quicksand in the heart of a cyclone. Ignoring the frostbite biting at my fingers and the fire scorching my toes, I kept running—desperately—towards my shackled friends.

“Patrick!” He yelled as I stopped before them, his voice trembling with urgency.

Patrick, like all shifters, was massive. But up close, he dwarfed even Asshole’s wolf, who had seemed so imposing from a distance. Patrick’s wolf groaned low, a sound laden with pain and longing. His eyes lingered on Diane and Paris, silently pleading for me to save them first.

“I’m here,” I assured him, my voice steady despite the storm raging in my chest. “I’ll heal you, okay?”

Patrick’s wolf dipped its head in acknowledgment, blood splattering from his muzzle. My stomach churned. I turned my gaze to Diane and realized her fur wasn’t merely orange as I had thought earlier—it shimmered unnaturally.

“Is Diane under Sue’s enchantment?”

Patrick’s wolf nodded again, his anguish plain.

Damn it. I clenched my fists, rage surging like a tidal wave. You’re dead, Susu. I’ll grind your disgusting face into dust and feed it to your mangy whore of a pet.

I crouched next to Diane, letting my power flow through me. At first, her wolf resisted, twisting and groaning in pain. But after three agonizing minutes, she shifted back to her human form, her body trembling as if dragged from the depths of hell.

Patrick howled in relief, his voice raw and broken.

Paris lay still, bound by chains that shimmered with a sinister enchantment. Her skin, streaked with dirt, sweat, and blood, bore a haunting beauty. Golden-orange light rippled around her, the magic suffocating her wolf, imprisoning it. Her tattered pink dress clung to her like a ghost of innocence lost. She shivered uncontrollably, the silver chains biting deep into her flesh, stealing whatever warmth remained.

“What the hell did Sue do to her?” My voice cracked as I turned to Patrick, who groaned weakly in response.

“The bastard made her eat dark magic,” he rasped.

I grimaced. “Why can’t I hold her long enough to heal her completely?”

Patrick didn’t answer, so I steeled myself and reached for Diane and Paris again, my power wrapping around them like a cloak. Slowly, the dark magic within them began to submit to my energy, acknowledging my dominance.

“Diane? Paris?” I whispered, shaking them gently.

Diane’s eyelashes fluttered, and then her fiery, red-orange eyes—like a blazing sunset—locked onto mine. “Phia?”

Relief flooded me. “You’re awake. Thank the gods.”

“Everything hurts,” she gasped, her voice trembling. Tears stung my eyes as I took in her wrecked state. Even in her misery, she was breathtaking.

“I can heal you,” I promised, forcing calm into my voice. I closed my eyes, channeling every ounce of power left in me. My veins burned with the remnants of Jason’s blood, fueling my strength.

Diane’s wolf stirred faintly beneath her skin, the dark enchantment receding. She stared at me in awe, her voice barely audible. “Thank you, Phia.”

“How do you feel?” I asked, brushing away a tear.

“I don’t know… My wolf… almost died,” she admitted, her eyes glistening.

“I know.” My voice wavered, thick with guilt and anger. “I could hear her cries through the magic. I was so scared…what happened to Paris? She's not waking up?”

“She is okay now. Her wolf is sleeping.”

Diane's body trembled violently, but I wasn’t done yet. “Stay still. I’ll help Patrick next.”

Diane’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he okay?” Her voice broke as she glanced at the blood-stained ground where Patrick’s wolf lay barely breathing.

“Don’t worry.” I forced conviction into my words. “I’ll save him too.”

But as I reached for Diane’s chains, a surge of dark magic slammed into me, sending me sprawling.

“What the—” I staggered to my feet, my head snapping toward the source of the attack.

She stood there, her presence suffocating. Wenally. The leader of the dark witches. She looked even more powerful than the last time we’d faced each other.

Draped in dark-red leather armor that shimmered like fire-lit satin, her long black hair whipped around her in a supernatural breeze. Her cruel smile carved into her face like a mask of malice.

“Get out of my way, whore,” Wenally sneered. “I’ll kill them first and you later. Your blood will be mine.”

I barked a laugh, anger simmering beneath my skin. “What’ll you do with my blood, huh? Make it into dinuguan?”

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and I let out a dramatic sigh. “Classic Filipino blood stew. You’d love it. Might even remind you of home.”

Her face darkened with fury, but I didn’t care. My power surged through me, wild and unrestrained.

Wenally snarled and lunged. Her punch connected with my jaw, sending me stumbling back. “Fuck!” I spat blood, glaring at her.

“You’re pathetic, little hybrid,” she taunted. “Does the vampire king’s bride cower before every fight?”

I growled, letting my magic coil around my fists. “Pathetic?” I hissed. “I’ll show you pathetic.”

The ground beneath us trembled as our powers collided. Wenally swung again, but I was faster, blasting her with a gust of wind that sent her crashing into the rocks. Blood trickled from her lips as she rose, her fury only deepening.

“For a hybrid, that’s all you’ve got?” she spat, smirking through the pain.

I matched her smirk with one of my own. “Stick around, Wenally. I’ve got so much more for you.”

I knew what Wenally was doing—she was biding her time. A classic move, one I’d used myself more times than I could count. She wasn’t rushing into battle, wasn’t letting her emotions get the best of her. She was calculating. And I hated that, because it meant she was dangerous.

Fight dark magic? I didn’t want to. Wenally was faster, stronger, and had decades more experience than I did. Facing her head-on felt like suicide. Call it cowardice if you want, but charging blindly into a fight I couldn’t win wasn’t bravery—it was stupidity. Yet even as doubt clawed at me, one truth remained: I wasn’t just anyone. I was the daughter of Deathro, the god of death. And while I couldn’t reveal the full extent of my power just yet, I wasn’t about to lose to her. Not today.

I needed her to believe I was weak. It was the only way this would work.

Wenally thought she had me cornered, but she didn’t know what I was capable of—not really. I was fighting like the hybrid she knew me to be. But what if I fought like my father? Could I turn this around?

Movement flickered in the corner of my eye, and I glanced over to see Jason hurl his bloody sword toward me. The blade was slick with his own blood, its dark edge glinting under the flickering flames of the battlefield. Use it, his voice whispered in my mind. With my blood, her enchantments won’t stand a chance.

I caught the hilt midair and gave the sword a quick twirl, its weight familiar in my grasp. Wenally’s eyes narrowed when she saw it, and the rage that twisted her features told me she recognized the power it carried. Her own blade—dark and alive with enchantments—burst into black flames, the fiery aura crackling with malevolent energy. The dark matter coating her sword slithered and pulsed like it had a mind of its own, oozing toward the edges of the blade as though hungry for a fight.

“Coward,” Wenally snarled, slamming her sword against mine with enough force to make my arms tremble. “You need your lover’s help to defeat me? Pathetic.”

I gritted my teeth, fury bubbling up at her taunt. If only she knew the power I was holding back. If I wanted to, I could end her with a single touch, my death magic consuming her in an instant. But that wasn’t part of the plan—not yet.

Wenally moved her blade in a deliberate arc, tracing a flaming circle in the air. The circle pulsed once before shattering, opening a gateway into the camp. From the breach, feral soldiers poured in—dozens of them, each one more monstrous than the last. They surged toward our forces, scattering the vampires and drawing Jason’s attention as he fought them off with feral speed and precision.

Nearby, Diane and Paris shifted into their wolf forms, their massive bodies lunging into the fray with a roar. Meanwhile, Faery, White, and Henry held the line against the incoming tide of beasts, their weapons flashing as they carved through the enemy.

Wenally didn’t give me a moment to worry about them. She came at me again, her strikes faster and harder, her dark enchantments licking dangerously close to my skin. My blade caught hers with a deafening clang, and the impact sent a jolt through my arms. The dark matter on her sword suddenly jumped to mine, slithering down the length of my blade like molten tar.

“What the hell?” I hissed, feeling the searing heat bite into my hand as the cursed substance oozed closer to the hilt.

Wenally’s smirk faltered when I didn’t drop the sword. I tightened my grip, ignoring the pain. Jason’s blood was fighting the enchantment, and I could feel it—a quiet, steady resistance pushing back against the corruption. I used her moment of hesitation to my advantage, swinging my blade with all my strength. The edge of my sword caught her armor, slicing through the leather and drawing blood.

Her expression twisted into a snarl of rage. With a guttural scream, she unleashed a burst of dark energy that slammed into me like a battering ram. The force threw me backward, my body colliding with the stone wall behind me. Pain exploded in my ribcage, and I cried out as the breath was knocked from my lungs.

But I wasn’t done yet. Gritting my teeth, I pushed through the pain and forced myself to stand. Wenally’s eyes widened in disbelief as I advanced on her, faster than she could track.

“This is impossible,” she spat, her voice laced with frustration and fear.

I didn’t give her time to process. “I’ve had a lot of practice fighting dark witches,” I said, my voice low and steady. With a swift, calculated swing, I severed her head from her shoulders.

Her body collapsed to the ground, her blade clattering uselessly beside her. The dark enchantments fizzled out, and for the first time, silence fell over the battlefield. I stood over her lifeless form, my chest heaving, the bloodied sword still clutched in my hand.

Jason appeared at my side, his gaze lingering on Wenally’s corpse before meeting mine. “You didn’t need my help, after all,” he said quietly, a flicker of pride in his voice.

“No,” I replied, wiping the sweat and blood from my brow. “But it was fun proving her wrong.”