Ravenous Beast & The Ambition Part 2

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WARNING: BLOOD AND GORE

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Her Majesty stood tall with her expressionless face, all calm while holding up the mangled remains of Oliver's windpipe—still connected to a portion of his ribcage. The blood-soaked display of her was nothing short of monstrous, and at that moment, the girl realized—this was only the beginning.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from her lips, raw and unrelenting, until her throat burned with the effort. Yet the agony in her voice was nothing compared to the horror before her. 

Their Majesty stood amidst the carnage just like an unholy vision of grace and brutality.

The once-pristine white of her flowing dress was now marred with streaks of blood, and the spattered blood painted a grotesque contrast against its once lively purity. And yet, she remained unfazed—standing in eerie with macabre splendor, as if death itself bowed at her feet.

Though the dress had been a masterpiece of elegance in its untouched state but, in Her Majesty's eyes, it only achieved true perfection once it was drenched in crimson. The splattered blood transformed it into something far more exquisite—an artistry of carnage that suited her far better than mere white silk and lace ever could.

Her Majesty basked in the gruesome spectacle, reveling in the rich cascade of crimson that adorned her like a morbid tribute. She savored the moment, delighting in the macabre pleasure of being bathed in blood as if it were a sacred rite meant only for her.

"Finish that sentence… and I will erase your entire bloodline from existence in mere minutes," Her Majesty snarled, her voice laced with lethal intent. With a flick of her wrist, she discarded the torn trachea, sending it tumbling into the far corner of the chamber—a grim resting place already littered with remnants of past victims. Bones lay scattered like discarded relics, skulls grinned in eternal silence, and frozen splotches of blood stained the dark floor, which remained as a testament to the countless lives claimed before.

"I believe... you're under the impression that I haven't identified you... Helena Cale." Her Majesty's voice dripped with cruel intent as her piercing gaze locked onto the trembling girl before she added, "A venerable witch among us. Did you assume I lack the acumen to discern the faintest trace of your decaying sorcery clinging to that boy?"

She took a slow step forward, her presence suffocating, all the while stating, "Look around, Helena," she murmured, her tone mocking yet laced with an undeniable threat. "Your entire coven… every last one of them… was strewn headless in their blood in this very chamber. Did you truly believe feigning ignorance would set you free?"

A twisted smirk curled her lips as she delivered her final promise, "No. I shall ensure each of your heads is presented to the witch leaders—served alongside a chalice brimming with your blood for every severed cranium. In an act as a fitting toast to your demise."

Tears cascaded down Helena's face under her despair while Markus, consumed by terror, instinctively began inching backward with his every movement, driven by a desperate urge to escape. But fate was unkind, and on this very day... mercy would not be his to claim.

The sanguine Majesty shifted her gaze toward the raven-haired youth, his feeble attempt at escape shattering the moment his hazel eyes locked with the ominous crimson depths of their merciless ruler.

An ancient adage echoed in the air — never gaze into the eyes of a... ravenous beast.

In a flash, Majesty's hand shot forward, clamping around Markus's throat with an unforgiving grip. The pressure mounted until his neck gave way with a sickening rupture, splattering her face, hair, and the upper half of her once-pristine white dress in a gruesome veil of crimson. The robust youth, so full of life mere moments ago, crumpled lifelessly under the merciless grasp of the bloodthirsty sovereign. A manic smirk curled across the brunette Majesty's lips as she languidly ran her tongue over her lips, savoring the taste of freshly spilled blood.

"Since you refuse to answer my questions, I see little use for your tongue," Majesty mused, her voice dripping with dark amusement. "Why waste words when I can so easily unravel the secrets buried in your mind?" She let the words linger, her tone dipping into something husky and laced with malice. "Besides," she added, a wicked smirk curving her lips, "I've already dealt with your precious bond mate." Her gaze flickered toward the tearful girl, whose trembling form remained frozen as she kept staring in horror at Markus Conant's lifeless body.

"You dare not snuff out my life, you fiend!" Helena's voice cracked with grief, her anguished scream reverberating through the bloodstained chamber.

"For if you dare... ha... you'll be unleashing a war against us," Pain twisted her features with the unbearable loss of her beloved fueling the defiant fire in her eyes.

Whereas Majesty hummed in disinterest before she discarded the lifeless body after extracting the heart and pulverizing it until its blood trickled down through her fingers. She then placed the remains into the flames conjured from her palm, the fire dissipating effortlessly after completing its task.

Turning her attention to her final prey, she seized the trembling girl's tongue with merciless precision. With a flick of her fingers, she ignited it, the flames licking hungrily at the flesh before she clenched it within her fist, snuffing out the fire just as easily as she had summoned it.

Majesty's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she stepped closer, her voice a low, velvety purr laced with malice, "As for the war you speak of so boldly... allow me to enlighten you," She chuckled darkly, tilting her head as she informed, "The war had already begun the very instant you vermin dared to implant cancer within that boy. Your worthless existences would have been terminated had I been privy to the truth sooner instead of discovering it just yesterday."

She leaned in, crimson eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement as she whispered the final blow, her tone dripping with cruel certainty, "And… oh, poor thing… I don't just dare to kill. I kill anyone I please."

Helena sobbed, her trembling hands clawing at the cold, bloodstained floor as she tried to crawl away, desperation fueling her futile escape.

But it was all for nothing.

In an instant, Majesty's hand shot forward, seizing a fistful of her dark tresses and yanking her back with merciless force. A strangled cry tore from Helena's throat as fresh agony surged through her skull, her body convulsing from the violent pull. 

Blood dribbled from her lips, cascading down her chin in a scarlet stream, pooling beneath her like a shattered offering to the monster looming over her. But this was merely the beginning. The true nightmare had yet to unfold—Majesty's cruel, crimson gaze gleamed with unholy delight as she loomed over her final prey—the trembling little witch who had been chosen for a fate far worse than death.

Majesty tilted her head, savoring the trembling form before her, eager to drink in the terror reflected in her prey's eyes. But Helena, though wracked with fear, stubbornly refused to meet that bloodthirsty gaze. She clenched her jaw in pain with her tear-streaked face turned away, denying Majesty the satisfaction of witnessing her final moments of unfiltered horror. A flicker of defiance still remained in her, however futile, yet a last shred of resistance glimmered against the inevitable.

A wicked smirk curled Majesty's lips as she moved with merciless precision, her fingers slicing through Helena's scalp and peeling it away in one swift motion. A scarlet torrent erupted, painting the cold ground beneath them once again. Helena's agonized screams reverberated through the chamber, raw and desperate—until Majesty, unfazed, plunged her fingers into the trembling girl's eye socket, twisting and wrenching until the delicate orb was torn free.

The cries faltered, weakening into choked gasps, but the spectacle was not yet complete.

With a single brutal motion, Majesty grasped Helena's head and twisted it until a sickening snap echoed, and her prey's neck snapped with such force that her head detached entirely. Majesty held the severed head aloft like a morbid trophy while the lifeless body crumpled into the thickening sea of blood, lost among the corpses that had met the same merciless fate before the little witch's body.

The heavy doors burst open without warning, crashing against the walls as a man with silver-streaked hair hastily strode into the blood-drenched chamber and came to an abrupt halt before Her Majesty. His gaze swept over her, and his expression was one of incredulity as if she had sprouted an additional head.

Her Majesty arched a single brow, her blood-stained lips curling slightly in distress as she turned her attention to the man before her. With an air of impatient authority, she addressed her steadfast royal bodyguard—the one sworn to execute her every decree without even a single question. 

"What is it?" she inquired, her voice laced with too little curiosity.

The man with dark grey hair muttered under his breath, his voice scarcely more than a whisper yet heavy with disbelief. "Have you finally gone mad?" His gaze fixated on the girl before him—her form bathed in blood, delicate fingers still curled around the severed head of her latest victim. 

Meanwhile, Her Majesty released a slow, measured sigh, fully understanding the weight behind his words. It was not a question of sanity—it was a question of intent.

Luna responded with a serene indifference, and her voice carried an air of nonchalance, "What's all the commotion for? It's nothing more than a little extra work—nothing of consequence."

With an effortless flick of her wrist, she discarded the severed head as if it were mere refuse. As Wendy stepped forward, offering a pristine towel, Luna accepted it without hesitation and dabbed away the blood splatters off her hands with an air of practiced ease.

Luna's voice rang with unwavering authority as she issued her command, "Nick! Ensure these heads are delivered to the coven as their final warning against interfering with what is mine. And assist Wendy in cleaning up this mess." Her tone left no room for argument.

With that directive, she turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber, now saturated with blood and permeated by the pungent odor of death. Behind her, the remnants of more than ten brutally tortured bodies lay strewn about- bearing silent testimony to her merciless reign.

"Luna!"

The man with the grey locks called out to her urgently, his voice echoing through the opulent halls adorned with intricate tapestries woven in shades of golden thread, depicting scenes of valor and triumph. As she ascended the staircase, the walls were adorned with grand paintings framed in rich crimson and royal blue, adding depth and grandeur to the regal atmosphere.

She traversed the regal corridor, where the walls were adorned with golden sconces holding flickering torches and were casting warm hues of light against the crimson and royal blue wallpaper embellished with delicate floral patterns in intricate detail. The carpets beneath her feet were plush and soft, woven in patterns reminiscent of blooming gardens, in crimson and royal blue hues, complementing the grandeur of her surroundings.

Eventually, she reached the grand staircase leading to her chambers, its balustrades crafted from polished mahogany adorned with golden accents that shimmered in the torchlight. The steps themselves were covered in luxurious carpeting, a rich tapestry of crimson and royal blue woven with golden threads depicting intricate floral motifs, adding a touch of elegance to her ascent.

With each graceful step, she moved closer to the sanctity of her room while the man, with his anxiety palpable, trailed after her amidst the lavish surroundings of the opulence and grandeur of her royal domain.

"Harry, let's not make this any more complicated than it already is," Luna murmured, exhaustion lacing her voice. "Right now, I'm the one bearing the brunt of all this. Let's end it here for today, or if you insist, we can continue this conversation after I've rid myself of these blood-soaked clothes." With a weary sigh, she came to a stop just outside her bedroom with her patience waning.

"I'm not done with this conversation," Harry muttered, his tone edged with irritation. "We'll pick this up once you've changed. Until then." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Luna to exhale a long, exasperated sigh before stepping into the sanctuary of her room.

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Luna found herself teetering between irritation and sheer exasperation, yet she recognized the necessity of the impending discussion.

From her throne within the castle, she cast her gaze upon the discontented figure of Harry, his grumbling echoing faintly through the dimly lit halls. The walls, swathed in a deep wine hue, bore witness to the opulent glow of golden chandeliers suspended from the lofty ceilings, adding an air of regal splendor to the surroundings.

Within the confines of her mind, Luna's castle remained a bastion of magnificence, a testament to her regal stature. However, to the outside world, its external façade remained unassuming, concealing the grandeur and majesty that lay within.

Besides, the castle was already concealed from ordinary eyes.

And so, no one could dare to ever find it.

"What would you have me do then? You know there's no alternative," Luna stated firmly, regarding Harry with a steady gaze.

Harry exhaled a long, weary sigh, dragging a hand across his forehead as frustration weighed on him. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with concern.

"Listen, I'm just concerned," he admitted, his gaze steady on Luna. 

"I understand that Lunasia is imprisoned within you and that you—her werewolf persona—have surfaced to assert dominance over the world in her absence. But don't forget Luna… she won't stay buried forever. No, she will return. I've been making progress in breaking the seals, though difficult as it may be—after all, they were placed upon you by the Head Deity. However, she may regain control far sooner than you anticipate... as she has already managed to shatter two of the four seals all by herself."

Harry paused to sigh again before continuing, "What I'm trying to convey is that... she won't approve of what you're doing now. And yet, all you're doing is recklessly throwing caution to the wind and carelessly letting everything spiral out of control."

Luna released a tired sigh, lazily swirling the wine in her glass as she reclined against the grandeur of her throne. Dressed in a casual yet commanding ensemble—a gray button-up shirt, black jeans, and matching sneakers—she exuded an effortless confidence. Atop her head sat a black crown adorned with glistening red and golden jewels, a striking contrast to her otherwise understated attire, yet a perfect emblem of her rule. Another sigh slipped past her lips, the weight of her thoughts evident as she finally spoke, her voice laced with frustration.

"Tell me, who claims that I'm being reckless and careless when every step I've taken has been a calculated effort to bring my ambition to life?"

Harry's expression was etched with discontentment at her question. Uncertain of the true intent behind her words, he pressed for clarity, his voice edged with curiosity and doubt as he asked, "What?"

Luna locked her gaze on Harry before she stated, "Despite the bond we've shared since birth, I can't help but despise her for her sheer heartlessness," Luna admitted, her voice laced with bitterness as she added, "All I want is to spend a few days with Elliot while he's unwell, yet even as I yearn for her return—if only to rid myself of the crushing weight resting upon my shoulders that rightfully belongs to her to carry—I know all too well how she'll treat our mate. And to make matters worse with utter complexity, she won't even grant me the smallest moment of control to mend the damage she so will mercilessly inflict by staining every situation with her cold-blooded ways." 

With a weary sigh, Luna lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip of wine and letting the taste linger as her words hung in the air.

Harry's brows knit together in concern as he removed his golden-rimmed glasses with a brief pause before he finally spoke with his tone laced with caution and anxiety, "Mate? Do you truly believe it's wise to forge such a bond with him when he could be the catalyst for your demise?"

Luna took another slow sip of her drink, the rich flavor lingering on her tongue before she finally responded, a small, knowing grin playing on her lips. 

"Absolutely," she said with quiet confidence. "Lunasia's instinct would be to imprison him, to keep him bound against his will. But I have a different approach—I intend to forge a connection so deep that he won't even think of running away like the little rabbit he is. Even when Lunasia inevitably lets him down, I want his thoughts to linger on me. And to accomplish that… I must draw even closer."

Harry released a frustrated sigh, acknowledging one undeniable truth: he couldn't deter Luna. Moreover, he shouldn't attempt to, for she was correct in her strategy of establishing proximity to influence that child.

"Very well," Harry relented, his voice laced with determination. "But on one condition. I'll enroll alongside you at his university. Even you, with your werewolf persona, possess a temper as formidable as Lunasia's. I must be there to ensure it remains in check."

Luna's smirk widened as she raised her glass to her lips once more before responding, "Agreed."

Harry, still harboring doubts about their presence at the university, weighed the burden of their royal status in his mind. While he acknowledged that it could potentially complicate matters, he remained confident in his ability to navigate such challenges. It was the additional workload that gnawed at his resolve, a source of frustration born from the disdain for tasks that could have easily been circumvented.

The prospect of unnecessary labor grated against his sensibilities, a testament to his aversion to inefficiency. It was not the challenge itself that daunted him but rather the prospect of expending precious energy on endeavors that he deemed avoidable.

Harry let out a soft snicker with amusement dancing in his eyes as he regarded her. 

"With your personality and age, you'd look like nothing less than a seasick crocodile trying to survive university life. I can already picture it—struggling to endure and feeling miserable after being stuck in one place for too long."

Harry's biting remark caught Luna off guard, causing her to pause mid-sip, her wine momentarily forgotten.

"Really?" She countered, her tone edged with a mixture of surprise and defiance. "And what about you, then? With those antiquated glasses perched upon your nose, you'd look less like a university student and, instead, resemble a horse in dire need of a gallop. How Lunasia tolerated that ridiculous frame of yours without losing her temper is beyond me."

A gasp of disbelief escaped Harry's lips, his sense of betrayal palpable.

"And what of my spectacles?!" He retorted, his voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and indignation. "So, what if they're tethered by chains? At least I remember to wear them, unlike a certain individual who forgets to wear her very crown. Every single day."

Luna let out a derisive snort before retorting, "Harry, do us all a favor and cease your prattle. Engaging in arguments with you is akin to regressing into childhood."

Harry, caught off guard by Luna's retort, cleared his throat awkwardly before responding, "Well then, let's both hold our tongues, shall we? Seems a cat has made off with yours." Luna's reaction was one of stunned disbelief, her mouth hanging open in a silent protest as if Harry had suddenly morphed into someone else entirely.

Yet, beneath her casual exasperation, Luna recognized Harry's frustration stemmed from the burdensome workload she could have sidestepped had she heeded his advice.

With a resigned shake of her head and a heavy sigh, Luna decided to abandon the discussion, understanding that prolonging it would only exacerbate tensions in the form of childish arguments.