Chapter 13 : Like father, like son

Death is merely a gateway to another stage, one we know little about. It can be described as a rebirth—blessed is the one who succeeds in their rebirth on the Day of Resurrection, and woe to those who grow like thorny trees in that moment, when neither wealth nor status will be of any benefit. But for now, that moment has not yet arrived—you are still in the world of the living. So let us focus on Marsha and Abdeljalil. Their deep love is evident to all, so much so that even the blind could see it. Only Christina refuses to accept that there is no place for her with Abdeljalil. Or perhaps fate will intervene and decide, with justice, who is truly the most suitable wife for him.

A grand funeral is held in the royal court, the very place that witnessed the assassination of the greatest king of the Kingdom of Bougaris. The entire kingdom gathers in the court, each person holding a candle, standing before the lifeless body of Morpheus, which is cruelly displayed on the wall like a sadistic painting—an artwork crafted by the hands of evil itself. A masterpiece of bloodshed, reminiscent of the atrocities committed since the Ottoman rule over the Regency of Algiers until this very era. Yes, dear reader, it is the cursed captain who has left his mark, seeking vengeance for Abdeljalil—or is there another reason behind his visit to this kingdom?

Grief and sorrow engulf the air, leaving no room for joy or laughter in the hearts of the people. They are consumed by hysterical mourning, bowing before the fallen king, led by Marsha—everyone except for Abdeljalil, who sits upon the throne like a true monarch. With a calm yet mocking tone, he speaks:

"Bow with humiliation, for I am the new king here."

A fifteen-year-old girl, with a voice of innocence, responds:

"Truly, my lord? Will you rule with justice and find a way to rid us of this curse?"

"Yes, my dear,

" he replies.

"Marsha, my beloved, and I have found the solution to free you all from this curse."

An elderly woman steps forward, her voice trembling with hope:

"What is this solution, my son? Please, tell us, so my heart may be at ease."

Suddenly, Marsha rises and walks toward her beloved. She stands beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek—an undeniable spark ignites between a girl yearning for true love to save her and her people from this curse, and a young man whose heart had been dead to love until this moment. The kiss of Signatora has granted him one final chance to taste the sweetness of love and romance. But will this love succeed, or will Christina stand in its way? Or worse—will Signatora herself enter the game?

Marsha announces boldly:

"I declare Abdeljalil my fiancé. Soon, I will announce our wedding day, once we have completed the necessary preparations. No one can deny that our marriage is the first and only solution to breaking this curse."

Abdeljalil takes her hand tenderly, pulling her close with utmost care, stealing her heart completely—she could never love another man after this. He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it, as if fate had written them together, as if their marriage were only a matter of time. The entire court watches them, still kneeling before their new king and queen.

Abdeljalil gazes at Marsha with devotion:

"My heart will always belong to you, Marsha. You awakened it from its slumber, and I will be yours alone."

Marsha smiles, her voice filled with warmth:

"And I will give you everything I have, just so I can wake up every morning and see you beside me."

"I love you, Marsha,

" Abdeljalil whispers.

"And I love you too, Abdeljalil,

"Marsha replies.

Just then, the palace doors burst open with force. A tall, dangerously alluring woman strides in. Her face is round, framed by striking green hair—yet her hair is not merely hair, for small serpents coil and slither upon her head. Her eyes are entirely yellow, her features radiating a beauty so seductive that no man in the court can resist her charm, though they struggle to suppress their desire as best they can. It is not their fault—after all, she is the embodiment of lust in the seven kingdoms, much like the demons of our world, whose sole purpose is to ignite temptation and desire to lead humans astray.

Tell me, dear reader, have you figured out who our uninvited guest is?

She steps forward with a casual, almost leisurely stride, her every step crushing countless frogs beneath her feet, as though they were nothing more than a living carpet beneath her. Her voice, dripping with irresistible allure, fills the chamber:

"Oh, the cub of a lion—just look at him, sitting upon the throne with his beloved. It feels as though it were only yesterday."

Marsha glares at her, her voice sharp:

"What do you want? You are not welcome here."

The woman chuckles, feigning innocence.

"Where is your hospitality, Marsha? Your father was never like this, despite the many passionate nights we shared while he was imprisoned in the vault of Mortus the Great. You should learn to share your lover, just as your mother did before you."

Marsha's expression darkens with fury.

"In your dreams, you wretched creature. You will never lay a hand on him."

A slow, sinister smile spreads across the woman's lips.

"But I already have. Didn't you notice my touch? He wasn't like this before, was he? You should be thanking me. Now, hand over Abdeljalil, and I shall leave you to your grief."

Without hesitation, Marsha unsheathes her sword, standing like a guardian angel, ready to defend Abdeljalil against any threat.

"Over my dead body, you vile woman.

The woman replied :

There are many men in your world far better than Abdeljalil."

Marsha :

"No,"

the woman replies, her voice laced with dark amusement.

"He is the only one who has ever satisfied me, the only one who has succeeded in convincing me."

With a flick of her wrist, she conjures a long, massive white sword and hurls it toward Marsha. The blade strikes the wall near her father's lifeless body. At the same moment, an unseen force pulls Abdeljalil toward her—he floats weightlessly, as though he has wings, until she catches him in her arms like a newborn child. Cradling him possessively, she smirks at Marsha.

"It is not your decision, Marsha. He is mine now. He will spend eternity indulging my desires and feeding my sacred hunger. Love and romance mean nothing to me—I do not love, nor do I cherish. This is simply about satisfying my hunger."

She turns on her heel, clutching Abdeljalil tightly. As she moves, her laughter echoes throughout the palace—chilling, triumphant, and filled with wicked delight.

"Farewell, princess. Perhaps you should take your place beside your father."

Then, with unnatural speed, she dashes away, her laughter ringing through the air.

"No one defies me. No one steals from Signatora!"