Malleteagan’s POVBreathing the sacred air of Amaaralva again. The destroyed kingdom of Thessalian witches in the Soovaree realm. I have destroyed it, and I have enjoyed every moment of it. Since the day I scattered the mushed remnants of Larissa’s body in this forest, I became so fond of this place. It gave me peace. Almost like Nerzelis. My Lycan is always quiet and deep in the pits of my mind when we come here. Contours of Amaralvanth castle could be seen peering through forest trees in the distance of a forgotten forest in the forgotten subrealm of Soovaree. The soil of this forest is fertilised with the blood and bones of the Thessalian bitch. It made me rejoice silently while remembering how I was stomping it. It feels as if I am stomping and crushing her dead body again when walking through the forest—the unique, nirvana-like sentiment of sacrilege and transcendence, all in one. The feeling of walking on the ground soiled with Larissa’s corpse is liberating. Just to get hold of

Marcellus POV I have been watching her writhing and screaming in torment for days now. It doesn’t seem to please me as I thought it would. No, not at all. It actually has an adverse effect. The feelings invoked by her torture are similar, if not worse, than those linked to the darkest moments of my childhood, when my mother was tortured, raped and killed in front of my eyes. And I thought that no pain could compare to that moment. The more I see Aralyn wilting away from sanity, the more I feel that my sanity is slipping away, too. I can see all of her thoughts, emotions and memories. I am the ruler of her mind now. Given her blood lineage, I did not expect it would be so easy to get in her head. I thought there would be more resistance. But no. Could it be because I caught her off guard when she was overly concentrated on combat with me, and she hadn’t thought there were other ways I could attack her? Was she not aware that I have mind control abilities? Well, whatever the reason, I

-Amaaralva forest, three weeks later-Kandreah’s POVMy best warriors were prowling around through the northern boundary of Amaaralva. We were just a few steps behind the pack of Lycans and the army of faes led by Malleteagan and Thersar. They were leading the attack, as agreed. The thick, rich forest of sturdy old oak trees became scarcer, and shrubbery and bushes were more prominent as we advanced towards Amaaralva’s boundary with Oribus territory. The woods were wrapped in the dense fog of midnight. The eeriness of the abandoned landscape of Amaaralva was even more emphasised by the remnants of the magic of fallen Thessalians that could be easily smelled in the air. Following the massacre of Thessalians, their physical presence might have faded away. However, their magic lingered thickly in the hazy, sharp air of Amaaralva.Although a supernatural creature myself, able to muster dribs and drabs of black magic, I cannot escape the sensation of Amaaralva being creepy, cringe and curs

Aralyn’s POV “Is this what you wanted? You screamed that you wanted this awhile ago in Avesta when I did my wrongdoings to you. Well, if you wanted to see me like this, you got it. Let it be. I guess I deserve it after all I have done to you.” I heard these words faintly ringing through my mind. What was that? Where did that come from? It sounded like Marcellus. His voice sounded raspy and tired but still so distinctive I would recognise that deep baritone anywhere. And then I saw surroundings that seemed like the dungeon where he held me, Norgarth lying unconscious. I could see Naevres pacing back and forth, looking anxious. Then…the ruckus of Wengarthria and soldiers led by a woman. She is beautiful. She looks familiar. She remotely reminds me of my mother. She reminds me of the woman who tortured Marcellus’ mother. She reminds me of….me? Is that my infamous maternal grandmother, Noosha? If Marcellus wasn’t lying when he told me that his mother was the tormented woman from my hell

Malleteagan’s POVWe are slowly but surely advancing down through ill-dimmed, sewer-like channels that separate Oribus from Damnarynth, the next circle of Wengarthria. Now I understand why they call it the way they do. It is a damn labyrinth, although I was told that it got its name from all the damned souls that are built within it. This level of Wengarthria seems like an underworld maze. It is laid out so complexly that it almost reminds of a large underworld ant heap. Ghouls of lost souls loitering around, screeching and beginning for mercy. Arachnoid warriors are protruding and attacking us left, right and centre as we advance through stinky swamp sewage of Damnarynth that reaches my waist, soaking our clothes with gooey, yucky and sticky substance. Gah, this is disgusting—the pungent, retch-inducing stench of the swampy channels cluttered with the foul odour of damned souls. The stench does more damage to us than arachnoids. The arachnoids are just pesky spider-like creatures fu