The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 252: The Confinement

Chapter 252: The Confinement

Zamiel, seeing his blood soaked hands retreated back to his chambers, his demeanor was rather too bestial and menacing for him to face her in his enraged and agitated state, so he decided not to face her in his ugly condition.

Meanwhile Malika who had been sulking over her conflicting emotions and her reason of betrayal to Rama, cocooned herself in the embrace of her celestial wings as they shrouded her, while the night kept her solace in her distressed state.

As dawn broke, she concluded within herself to resist the tempting promises and offer of the devil after much contemplation within herself throughout the night.

She had barely gotten enough sleep as she pondered heavily within herself and she had finally decided that she would decline his offer, no matter the consequences even though it tore through her heart.

Her frail heart could not bear to betray Rama, the only family she had that had shielded her from the vile world even in her lowest, she couldn’t bear to think of the betrayal and hurt it would cause her, it would sever their relationship, so she chose to rather give up her life than betray Rama.

Sighing, she was rather curious on the trapped entity. Ever since the devil made mention of the imprisoned force, held in the confinement of Draco’s powers, her interest had been greatly piqued.

Malika’s mind buzzed with thoughts of the forbidden door leading to the entity’s secret prison. She couldn’t resist the allure of unraveling the mystery that lingered behind it. Luckily, the King’s presence was absent, so she seized the opportunity to venture into the chamber as she exited the room.

Carefully evading the vigilant guards and tiptoeing through dimly lit corridors, Malika reached the grandiose doors of the King’s chamber. With a mixture of trepidation and excitement swirling within her, she gently pushed against the massive oak door, its hinges creaking softly in protest.

Stepping into the opulent chamber, Malika’s eyes were immediately drawn to an ornate tapestry adorning the far wall. It depicted a scene of warriors battling a monstrous creature amidst swirling tempests, hinting at the ancient legends woven into the fabric of the kingdom’s history.

Her gaze shifted to the corner where an unassuming painting hung, partially concealed behind a heavy velvet drape. Intrigued, Malika approached and pulled back the covering, revealing a meticulously detailed mural depicting the very door of legend. It stood tall and imposing, engraved with runes that seemed to shimmer faintly in the low light. A faint smile brushed her lips as it was evidently the door she had been searching for.

Summoning all her courage, Malika approached the mysterious door. Its ancient surface was cool to the touch, and a tingling sensation coursed through her fingertips as she traced the intricate carvings etched into its frame. With a deep breath, she pressed against the door, half expecting it to yield to her touch.

To her disappointment, the door remained steadfast, unmoved by her efforts. However, just as she turned away in resignation, a faint whisper echoed in the chamber, almost imperceptible. It seemed to beckon to her, promising secrets untold and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

Driven by an unrelenting curiosity, Malika searched for a mechanism, a hidden latch, or any clue that might grant her access to the unknown realm sealed behind the door. Hours passed unnoticed as she scoured the chamber, her determination unwavering despite the faint sense of foreboding that lingered in the air.

Sighing in defeat, she finally turned her attention back to the door as she extended her hand toward it. She was wary, but her curiosity overwhelmed her as she ejected a golden beam from her palm to collide against the door.

The effect yielded a promising result as the door shut open with a loud clangor, revealing a dark expanse and a wooden staircase leading to the underground prison.

Immediately the door shut open, an eerie gust of wind blew past her, making a yelp escape her lips as her body tremored in fear, still yet she found herself moving into the eerie vicinity as she clambered down the stairs.

Carved from unforgiving stone, the prison’s corridors wind like a labyrinth, leading to a small, desolate cell at its core. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay that made her wrinkle her nose, and an eerie silence hangs heavily, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance.

The cell itself was a claustrophobic space, barely large enough to contain the ominous presence confined within. The walls were cold and damp, coated in patches of moss and streaks of grime. Flickering torches cast elongated shadows that danced menacingly across the uneven surface, adding to the unnerving ambiance.

The underground prison lay concealed beneath layers of ancient stone, a clandestine fortress safeguarding the realm from an unspeakable evil. This arcane sanctum, buried beneath the earth’s crust, housed an entity so malevolent that its mere existence threatened the fabric of reality itself. The chamber, a convergence of arcane symbols etched in obsidian, echoed with whispers of ancient incantations and carried an air of palpable foreboding.

At its heart rested a colossal coffin wrought from the darkest obsidian, its surface adorned with inscriptions depicting the unholy pact forged by the devil’s son. The coffin, a relic of ominous power, served as the vessel that contained the malevolent force, a being beyond mortality, its essence coiled in an eternal struggle for freedom. The devil’s son, a sorcerer of unrivaled darkness, had channeled his vile powers into the creation of this prison, binding the malevolent entity within its impenetrable confines.

The chamber’s walls, hewn from ancient stones adorned with mystic runes, hummed with a spectral energy that permeated the very air. An ethereal glow cascaded from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows that danced across the floor, a testament to the arcane forces at play within this subterranean vault. The chamber exuded an aura of otherworldly power, a haunting reminder of the horrors it contained.

Above the coffin, a series of intricate wards formed a lattice of protection, their shimmering sigils warding off any attempt at the entity’s liberation. Each rune, meticulously etched by the devil’s son himself, interwove a complex web of enchantments designed to thwart the entity’s relentless desire for freedom. The air crackled with latent energy, warning any who dared approach of the perilous consequences that awaited those who sought to disturb the dark entity’s slumber.

The malevolent force within the coffin lay dormant yet ever vigilant, its presence a palpable weight upon the chamber’s atmosphere. It seethed with an ancient hatred, its consciousness tethered to the confines of its prison, yearning for the opportunity to unleash its maleficent powers upon the world once more.

Surrounding the coffin, mystical artifacts of forgotten origins stood sentinel, their purpose twofold, to fortify the ancient wards and to serve as a warning to those who might seek to tamper with the entity’s containment. Candles flickered in sconces, casting flickering shadows upon the walls adorned with tapestries depicting the devil’s son’s rise to power, a stark reminder of the price paid to confine such unrestrained malevolence.

The chamber’s atmosphere, heavy with the weight of centuries, echoed with the distant echoes of the entity’s anguished howls, a chilling reminder of its perpetual imprisonment. Time stood still within this clandestine sanctuary, the world above oblivious to the eternal struggle waged beneath the earth’s surface.

As the ages passed, the chamber had remained an enigmatic testament to the battle between darkness and the forces that sought to contain it.

It stood as a solemn reminder of the devil’s son’s sacrifice, his nefarious powers forever interwoven with the coffin’s impenetrable shell, ensuring that the malevolent entity remained forever entombed in its subterranean prison, a guardian against the horrors that lurked in the shadows of their dark world.

Her eyes narrowed to the obsidian coffin that lay at the heart of the forgotten prison, nestled deep within the bowels of the time-worn castle. Crafted from the darkest of obsidian, its sleek surface shimmered with an otherworldly luster, adorned with intricate carvings that told a tale of ancient sorcery and the eternal struggle against malevolence.

The coffin served as both a prison and a vessel, containing an entity of unfathomable darkness, an insidious force that defied mortal comprehension.

The coffin’s formidable construction, meticulously designed by the realm’s most revered sorcerers, bore witness to the collective might of their enchantments and the depth of their determination to confine such an unearthly menace.

Arcane symbols etched into the obsidian surface glimmered with an eerie luminescence, pulsating with restrained power. These sigils, woven into an intricate tapestry of protection, formed an impenetrable barrier, warding off any attempt at the entity’s escape. Each rune carried the weight of ancient incantations, their purpose only to contain the malevolent force and to safeguard the realm from its unrelenting wrath.

The coffin exuded an aura of foreboding, its presence a stark reminder of the fragile balance between light and shadow.

Shadows danced across its surface, casting an ever-shifting veil over the carvings that depicted the entity’s eternal imprisonment. An air of palpable tension hung heavy in the catacomb, a silent testament to the gravity of the darkness sealed within.

The entity itself, trapped within the confines of the obsidian coffin, existed in a state of eternal suspension, a timeless void where consciousness and boundless malevolence intertwined. Its presence resonated within the vicinity, a sinister undercurrent that pulsed with an unrestrained desire for liberation, a ceaseless hunger for the chaos it once wrought upon the world.