บททั้งหมดของ Orphaned Queen Goddess: บทที่ 211 - บทที่ 220

Celine POVThe air in the Elder Garden is so thick with tension it’s suffocating. Even after the Bear Kings agreed, the weight of everything still lingers. Something isn’t right. I can feel it. It creeps along the edges of my senses, curling through the cracks in the stone walls, slithering unseen through the room.It isn’t magic from any of the rulers gathered here, it’s something older, something unnatural.But before I can focus on it, Aarmon speaks, and the shift in his tone has my muscles locking up.“Since we’re all committed to this fight now, I took the liberty of securing something else you’ll need,” he says smoothly, leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes locked onto me.I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.He steeples his fingers beneath his chin, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’ll need blood, won’t you, Queen Goddess? You’ve burned through an unnatural amount of magic, and if you plan on taking down Gregory, you’ll need to be at your strongest.”My jaw tightens. “I

Celine POVThe meeting is set in a smaller, secluded chamber within the Elder Garden. The air in the chamber is different from the heavy tension of the summit. It isn’t filled with hostility, but rather something careful. The moment I step inside, I find Queen Sereia seated gracefully, her ocean-blue gown cascading around her, the shimmering fabric catching the dim light. Her dark hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, her deep blue eyes meeting mine with quiet curiosity.Queen Nymia stands near the window, her back straight, her silver eyes sharp but calm. Unlike the others, she doesn’t need to be convinced of who I am. She already knows.I step forward, folding my arms. “You both requested this meeting. So let’s not waste time. What is it you want?”Sereia studies me for a long moment before she finally speaks, her voice smooth, carrying an elegance that comes with centuries of ruling. “We stand with you, Celine. That much has already been decided.” She tilts her head slightl

Celine POVThe grand hall is warm with the glow of chandeliers, the candlelight flickering across polished stone walls. The scent of roasted meats, aged wine, and sweet spices fills the air, a stark contrast to the tension that lingers beneath the surface. Conversations weave through the room in polite murmurs, the occasional laughter breaking the stiffness that clings to the gathering. Despite the illusion of peace, I can’t shake the feeling of unease that coils tightly in my chest.Seated between Sebastian and Jonathan, with Dolton across from me, I force myself to appear at ease. Their presence should ground me, yet the weight of my vision refuses to leave me. The image of myself kneeling in chains before Gregory, powerless and at his mercy, claws at the edges of my mind. I can’t allow myself to dwell on it, not here, not now.Further down the table, the three Bear Kings eat in silence, their broad forms looming over their plates. They rarely speak, but their gazes scan the room wi

Celine POVI take a slow breath, steadying myself as I prepare to break the sigil. My magic coils beneath my skin, simmering, but I force myself to stay in control. This isn’t about brute force. The sigil wasn’t just made to bind, it was made to resist. If I let my emotions control me, the magic will push back harder.I kneel beside the scorched markings, pressing my palms lightly against the fractured stone. The energy still lingers. I can feel the remnants of the blood magic woven into it, pulsing faintly, clinging to its purpose even as the spell itself begins to weaken.The magic fights me immediately.A sharp pulse of resistance presses back against my own power, like an invisible hand trying to shove me away. I grit my teeth and dig deeper, pushing my magic through the cracks in the spellwork. It twists and resists, writhing like a living thing, trying to close itself off.The air around me thickens. The sigil surges violently beneath my fingertips, a final attempt to hold its f

Celine POVKneeling beside the factured sigil, my hand hover over the smoldering bloo-forged markings. The air around it crackles with raw magic, thick and oppressive. It clings to my skin like an unseen force, trying to push my away. This sigil isn't just a spell, it's wound and carved deep into the foundation of this place pulsing with stolen power.It should have shattered when I attacked it, but instead, it lingers, a binding forged through blood. Exhaling, I force myself to think. If this was made with blood, there has to be a way that blood can unmake it. A sacrifice to balance the scales again.Without hesitation, I morph a hand into my dragon and drag a sharp edge of my nail across my palm, cutting deep enough for a thin line of crimson to well up. The moment my blood drips onto the sigil, a violent surge of energy explodes outward.Pain slashes through my palm as my hand is thrown back, the heat races up my arm like fire. I bite back a cry, my en