The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 258: The Awakening

Chapter 258: The Awakening

Murky silence fell awash on the entire room as soon as she spoke, as if the menacing air took reverence of her words.

"I respect your decision, after all it’s your choice to make." He said, not a hint of displeasure or dissatisfaction with her rejection could be detected in his voice, it was rather too nonchalant.

She stayed quiet as she studied him, while half expecting him to lay her to waste as her heart throbbed with anticipation.

"Fear not, I won’t hurt you....yet." He said in a flat tone, but the guttural promise coating his words left her edgy as she squirmed in unease.

"Ahh and I would like to say thank you for what you have done." He said earnestly but before she could ponder on his strange words, he disappeared into the shadowy darkness enclosing on him.

His fiery orbs gradually diminished till there was nothing left of him and then in the next second, the candles were suddenly lit up, basking the room in a soft glow, but she could still feel every inch of his chilly presence.

Sinking into the bed, her body relaxed limply as her legs wobbled weakly beneath her skirt as if every ounce of energy she retained was drained out.

She was lost in thoughts about what he had said before he left. What could she have possible done that he was thanking her for? She pondered as she pressed deep thoughts on it but nothing could pop up in her head.

Wondering whether to tell Zamiel or not about Lucifer’s visit, she paced back and forth in the room but then decided against it, knowing it would only make him greatly disturbed if he ever found out she rejected his offer.

Awash in her thoughts, the door suddenly swung open with Zamiel strutting in without an invitation, not that he needed one.

"Zamiel." She yelped, slightly startled at his unannounced presence as he barged in abruptly.

Surveying the room with a quick glance, he dropped his gaze on her as he asks with seriousness "Was he here?"

Her brows furrowed tightly, wondering how he was aware. Stuttering, she confessed "Y-Yes, yes he was. How did you know?"

"Your fear was so strong, I felt it through the bond." He replied as worry fleeted through his tender gaze while cupping her face.

"Are you alright?" He asks as he strokes her cheeks with a delicate, feather-like caress.

"I’m fine." She muttered.

"Actually I’m not fine, I’m terrified." She blurted out as she throws herself into his warm embrace, her body trembling violently as she sobs uncontrollably.

His heart clenched painfully as she cried, tears pouring out of her large, doe eyes in fear. He stroked her hair as she rests her head on his chest while sobbing heavily. A cold shiver washed down on him as she cried for hours while he silently hugged her, giving her a space of solace in his embrace.

After some time, her sobs finally diminished as she stopped crying. Sitting beside him on the chaise lounge, she tilted her head up for him to see her puffed, reddened eyes.

"Did you accept it?" He asked.

She had concluded within herself to lie to him, but his tender gaze as he asks her suddenly melts through her heart. She suddenly found it a hassle to lie to him, it would be much worse anyway if he found out at a later time, so it was better to spill the truth.

"I’m sorry, I just couldn’t. I wanted to do accept it for you, for us, but it felt wrong, nothing seemed right..." She trailed off as she choked on her words as if her throat was being clogged by a lump of bile.

"Shhh, whatever you do is fine, I’ll always be here." He said in a gentle tone as he rubs her arm supportively, earning a faint smile on her face as she sniffs back the tears threatening to drop from the brim of her eyes.

"He’s ready to attack us, I can feel it." She murmured under her breath as she gasps shakily in fear.

Zamiel who had no answers to the question stayed silent instead as he sighed out.

"You said without Morwana it was impossible for him to single handedly take out Draco right?" She queried, her voice laden with uncertainty and a hint of doubt as she searched in his eyes for reassurance.

"What’s wrong?" He asked as he noticed her unease and doubt clouding her demeanor.

"He seemed overly confident and when I rejected his offer, he just accepted my response and didn’t even try to persuade or manipulate me, he was rather nonchalant and laid back. It just terrifies me that he has some other means that we’re unaware of." She pointed out, her voice quivering with evident fear.

"Don’t worry about him, without Morwana, he’s as good as useless against Draco. Without her, he can’t hold him off for long on his own." Zamiel noted with confidence.

"I hope so." She mutters as she leans her head against his shoulder.

Leaning his face toward hers, he tilts her head slightly up as he presses his lips against hers while she melts into the warm, luscious taste of his lips as they share a passionate kiss.

Their lips met in a fervent yet tender collision, a fusion of passion and solace. The kiss was a dance of warmth, both a testament to their unspoken desires and a source of solace amidst the tempests of their world. Malika’s hands found their place upon Zamiel’s chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart through his thick leather attire, a rhythm that echoed her own.

In that fleeting moment, the world around them dissolved, leaving only the profound connection that bound their souls. The soft rustle of Malika’s gown and the subtle ripple of his muscles beneath his clothes provided a symphonic backdrop to their embrace, a melody woven from their shared history and unspoken emotions.

Their lips parted, yet their foreheads remained nestled against each other, their breaths intertwining in the cool evening air. Eyes closed, they lingered, savoring the moment.

------------------

In the underground crypt shadows danced, entwining with the dim flicker of torchlight that struggled to penetrate the dense darkness. The air hung heavy, pregnant with the weight of centuries, the silence disturbed only by the distant echoes of dripping water and the faint whisper of ancient incantations.

At the heart of the crypt, its atmosphere suffused with an ominous aura as the obsidian stoned coffin, adorned with ornate carvings depicting scenes of unspeakable darkness, rested ominously at its center. A palpable sense of foreboding emanated from this ancient vessel, its lid intricately etched with symbols of arcane power, serving as both a prison and a conduit for the malevolent entity trapped within.

Cloaked in swirling shadows, the devil materialized, his form a sinister silhouette against the dimly illuminated chamber. Golden, fiery eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity as he approached the sarcophagus, a malicious smirk playing upon his lips. Emitting his malevolent essence, he unleashed a surge of unholy power, the very air crackling with dark energy.

The coffin trembled, ancient runes blazing to life with an ominous, pulsating glow. A clamor of whispers, like the anguished cries of the forsaken, filled the chamber as the lid slowly began to rise, defying the weight of centuries. A thick, swirling mist poured forth from the opened casket, coalescing into a shapeless mass that writhed and contorted with a vile sentience of its own.

The darkness within the coffin birthed forth the entity of malevolence and dread, a being wrought from the very essence of shadow and corrupted mysticism. Its form was an amalgamation of swirling shadows, a shape-shifting mass that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Glowing eyes, void of light, pierced through the amorphous darkness, exuding an insatiable hunger for chaos and despair.

Morwana had finally been awakened after a millennia of being trapped in a dark void of endless slumber.

The devil’s lips curled into a malevolent grin as he observed the entity’s emergence, reveling in the unleashed power.

The goddess of death emerged, her form billowing out from the confines of the coffin in an otherworldly wisp of shadowy silk. Her raven hair cascaded like midnight, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin, and her eyes, twin orbs of darkness, shimmered with an ancient wisdom born from eons of existence.

The devil bowed his horned head in deference, acknowledging her formidable presence. She exuded a quiet yet undeniable power, a sovereignty that commanded respect even amidst the darkest of realms.

A faint smile, as haunting as the crypt itself, curved upon the goddess’s lips. Her voice, a melodic whisper that echoed through the cavern, carried the weight of countless souls. "You have freed me, Lucifer." she intoned as she bowed deeply, her words an ethereal melody that pierced the silence of the crypt. "What do you seek in return?"

The devil’s voice, gravelly and steeped in cunning, reverberated within the chamber. "I seek a pact, Mistress of the Underworld. An alliance that shall shake the very foundations of this medieval realm. With your power and my craftiness, we shall reign supreme."

A contemplative gaze lingered in the depths of the goddess’s eyes. Her fingers brushed against the tendrils of dark magic still lingering in the air, savoring the taste of liberation after eons of captivity. "So be it," she murmured, her voice a haunting decree that echoed through the crypt.

Together, the devil and the goddess of death stood, an unholy alliance forged in the depths of that ancient underground chamber. Shadows danced around them, a testament to the malevolent energy pulsating within, as they plotted the impending chaos that would descend upon the medieval world above. The crypt’s atmosphere crackled with foreboding, an ominous prelude to the impending darkness that would soon unfurl its tendrils across the realm.

Using the alteration of the imprisonment caused by Malika’s powers, it had paved an easy way for him to finally release her into the world.