59: Chosen

Xylara's lips curled into a knowing smirk the moment she heard Lycius's voice slither through her mind, the low, hypnotic timbre sending a shiver of delight down her spine.

"Don't kill this woman."

The command was simple, yet layered with unspoken implications that set Xylara's mind alight with wicked possibilities. Her gaze flicked back to the blood-red velvet-haired woman struggling against the enchanted chains, her ruby eyes alight with defiance.

So, this was not a target meant for death—this was a gift for their master. A future junior, just like Mia.

Xylara nearly chuckled at the realization. How unexpected. Two juniors in one day. And if she performed well in their conditioning, Lycius would surely grant her a reward worth savoring.

Xylara sauntered closer to Lilith, watching with amusement as the woman strained against the chains with all her might.

The bindings weren't just physical; they coiled around her mind like serpents, slowly gnawing away at her willpower with every moment of resistance.

Xylara knew exactly how they worked. The longer Lilith fought, the weaker she would become. A slow, inevitable collapse.

"You're strong," Xylara mused, circling the bound vampire like a predator savoring the scent of its prey. "But strength without wisdom is just wasted effort."

Lilith snarled, baring her fangs. "I'll kill you."

Xylara laughed, a melodic sound laced with cruelty. "Oh, darling, you're not in a position to be making threats. But do continue resisting—I do enjoy watching the strong crumble."

Lilith twisted her wrists, trying to shatter the chains with raw, brute strength. The air around her shimmered as her mana-infused blood surged through her veins, attempting to counteract the magic constraining her.

Xylara tilted her head, intrigued. Lilith wasn't just powerful—she was uniquely attuned to her own blood, a rare and formidable trait among vampires. This would make breaking her all the more satisfying.

Mia, who had remained silent until now, watched the exchange with wary eyes. She had witnessed firsthand how Xylara operated, how she reveled in domination, in the slow and deliberate dismantling of a person's will.

It was terrifying, yet... mesmerizing. Was this the same Xylara she had once called a friend? No, this was someone else entirely—twisted, devoted, and basking in her master's shadow.

Xylara extended a hand, fingers trailing just above Lilith's heaving chest, never quite touching, but close enough for the air to tremble with power. The vampire hissed, instinctively flinching away despite her bindings.

"Let's make things more... interesting," Xylara whispered, her violet eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

With a flick of her wrist, the chains pulsed with an eerie glow, sending a sharp, tingling sensation through Lilith's body. It wasn't pain—not yet—but a foreign, intrusive pressure that toyed with her senses, making it harder to focus, harder to think. The first step in a slow descent.

Lilith clenched her jaw, willing herself to remain still, to not give Xylara the satisfaction of seeing her falter. But the vampire had underestimated the potency of the chains. Her mind felt sluggish, as if submerged in thick, viscous liquid, her thoughts swimming in murky depths she couldn't quite grasp.

"Mmm... fascinating," Xylara cooed, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. "Even now, you resist. But how long will you last, I wonder? An hour? Two? A day? No, no... I think you'll break much sooner."

Lilith inhaled sharply, her pride warring with the insidious whispers of doubt creeping into her mind. She couldn't—she wouldn't break. Not to this woman, not to anyone. Yet the longer she remained bound, the more her confidence wavered.

Xylara took a step back, as if savoring the sight before her. "I won't shatter you all at once, little vampire. No, I will unravel you piece by piece, like a beautiful tapestry coming undone. But first, we have much to discuss."

Lilith's crimson gaze snapped to her captor, seething with silent fury. Xylara merely smiled.

"You see," she continued, "our master has taken an interest in you. And when he takes an interest in something... well, resistance is futile."

Lilith's breath hitched at the ominous statement. Her body trembled—not from fear, she told herself, but from exhaustion. Yet deep within, a cold realization settled like a stone in her stomach. She had been marked. Chosen.

Mia, watching from the shadows, felt her own chains tighten—not the physical kind, but the ones binding her fate to Xylara's whims. There was no escaping this path, not for Lilith, and certainly not for herself.

And Xylara? She was utterly, deliriously pleased. Another toy for her master. Another beautiful, strong creature to be molded into what he desired.

Oh, how she would enjoy breaking her in.

Xylara's violet eyes gleamed with amusement as she gazed upon the struggling form of Lilith Infernox, the Vampire Lord's precious daughter.

Bound by Xylara's exquisite chains, their ethereal glow pulsating in a rhythmic dance of torment, the young woman squirmed in a mix of rage and helplessness.

The mana-infused blood swirling around Lilith flickered, desperate to answer her call, but the chains rendered her strength useless.

A wicked smile curled on Xylara's lips as she stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, her aura laced with the intoxicating charm of her succubus instincts.

She crouched slightly, violet tendrils of magic caressing Lilith's skin like whispering lovers, drawing a shudder from the trapped woman.

"My, my… such fiery resistance," Xylara purred, brushing a strand of crimson hair from Lilith's face. "You should learn to relax, dear. Fighting will only make this worse."

Lilith's ruby eyes burned with defiance, her fangs bared as she struggled harder, but the more she fought, the tighter the chains coiled around her, invading her mind with hypnotic whispers of surrender.

Xylara leaned in, her breath warm against Lilith's ear. "I could teach you so much… mold you into something greater than a mere chained princess. Wouldn't you like that?"

Lilith's breath hitched as the chains pulsed again, her mind growing foggy, her limbs weak. Xylara's fingers traced along Lilith's jaw, her touch featherlight, her violet gaze predatory.

She tilted Lilith's chin up, parting her lips ever so slightly, anticipation thick in the air. Xylara's lips hovered just above hers, a whisper away from sealing a claim upon the Vampire Lord's daughter.

Then—

A flash of crimson steel.

Xylara's eyes widened slightly before her vision blurred, her body suddenly weightless. A sharp pain blossomed through her neck, an unfamiliar sensation for one so accustomed to playing the tormentor.

The world spun, her surroundings tilting in a strange dance. In the distance, she saw Mia's shocked expression, and Lilith's horror-stricken face. It was only when her head hit the cold floor that she understood.

She had been beheaded.

The blood-red katana that had severed her existence returned to its master, spinning elegantly through the air before landing back into the outstretched hand of Tharros Infernox.

The Vampire Lord stood tall at the entrance of the throne room, his presence alone suffocating. His crimson gaze, colder than the dead, bore into Xylara's lifeless form before shifting to his daughter. The chains that held Lilith dissipated, crumbling into nothingness.

Without hesitation, Lilith ran to her father, throwing herself against him, tears streaming down her face. "Father! I was so scared… she—she tried to—"

Her voice broke, and she buried her face into his chest. But Tharros did not reciprocate the embrace. His arms remained rigid at his sides, his gaze unwavering. Lilith, though used to his cold nature, clung to the belief that somewhere in his dead heart, he harbored good intentions for her.

His disappointment was sharper than any blade.

"Lilith," he spoke, his voice devoid of warmth, "you could not even handle a mere illusionist, and you dare call yourself my daughter?"

Lilith flinched as though she had been struck. Her grip on his robes loosened, but she did not step away.

The silence was suffocating.

Then, Tharros's gaze shifted from his daughter to the crimson-eyed woman standing motionless, her body trembling.

Mia Darkflames.

Tharros lifted his hand, and with effortless strength, tossed something towards her feet. The object tumbled once, twice—before stopping right in front of her.

A head.

Melvin's head.

Mia's breath hitched. Her golden pupils shrank as her world crumbled before her eyes.

Melvin Darkflames, her husband, her partner, the man she had sworn to rule beside—his lifeless, blood-drained head stared up at her, his once bright blue eyes dull and empty. The remnants of Xylara's cursed magic still clung to his face, faint traces of agony lingering in his expression.

Mia's knees buckled, and she dropped to the ground, her hands trembling as they hovered over his face, unable to bring herself to touch him, as if doing so would confirm that this was real. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her mind reeling.

Melvin was gone.

Xylara's plan had come full circle.

Mia's world had truly been shattered.

But Tharros was far from finished. His crimson gaze burned into Mia as he spoke, his tone laced with quiet menace. "Do you understand now, Beast Queen?"

Mia did not respond. She could not. Her voice was gone, stolen by grief and rage intertwining into something unrecognizable.

Tharros took a step forward, looming over her. "You were a queen. A warrior. Yet you let yourself be played like a mere pawn."

Mia's trembling hands curled into fists, her claws digging into her palms until blood dripped onto the cold stone floor. Her body shook, not from fear, but from something far darker.

Hatred.

Deep, seething hatred.

Tharros tilted his head, as if observing a fragile creature on the verge of breaking. Then, without another word, he turned away, his daughter following him hesitantly.

Mia's vision blurred, rage and sorrow warring within her as her trembling hand finally reached out—touching the cold, lifeless face of the man she had loved.

Something inside her snapped.

And in that moment, the Queen of the Beastkin was no more.

Only vengeance remained.

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