The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 259: The Goddess Of Death

Chapter 259: The Goddess Of Death

Morwana who had been deprived of freedom for a thousand years inhaled deeply as she sucks in air, her very essence pouring out darkness from every inch of her being as she stands at the foot of the mountain, looking out into the world.

Staring up at the moon, she breathed out softly as she said "I forgot how ugly the world used to be, the very sight of the moon annoys me."

"The world doesn’t anger you, your lack of vengeance does and vengeance you shall get." Lucifer drawled behind her as he spoke with a dark hiss.

Turning around to face him, she spoke "When?"

"Soon, very soon." He replied.

An ominous storm brewed within her, a tempest of vengeance and wrath. From the depths of a rift torn in reality, Morwana, the once serene goddess of death, emerged from her imprisonment. But she was reborn, no longer cloaked in sorrowful beauty, but consumed by a maelstrom of hate and rage.

Her arrival was no gentle emergence. It was a cataclysmic upheaval, a rupture in the fabric of existence that crackled with an unfathomable fury. The ground quaked as Morwana’s burning vengeance clawed its way through the rift, a specter of darkness laced with an unrelenting desire for retribution.

Gone was the haunting grace that once characterized her ethereal form. Her gown, once woven from the fabric of twilight, now billowed around her in tattered remnants, scorched and stained by the fires of her torment. Threads of obsidian hair whipped about her visage like serpents poised to strike, no longer a cascade of midnight, but a tangled web of chaotic fury.

Her eyes, once abyssal pools devoid of soul, now blazed with an infernal fire. They radiated a malevolent brilliance, twin orbs of seething hatred that bore into the very essence of existence. No longer were they empty voids; they blazed with a furious intensity, reflecting the searing flames of her boundless rage.

As she emerged, a haunting symphony of wails and lamentations echoed from the depths of the rift, an anguished chorus of souls shackled by her wrath. The air crackled with an electric charge, a palpable aura of malevolence that clawed at the surrounding landscape, twisting it into a barren wasteland of desolation.

Morwana’s skin, once porcelain pale, was now etched with spectral markings that pulsed with a sickly luminescence, a manifestation of her seething fury. The markings bore witness to the millennia of imprisonment, each symbol a testament to the torment inflicted upon her by the devil’s son.

Her very presence rent the fabric of reality, casting an oppressive shadow over the medieval world. The ground trembled beneath her wrathful steps, fissures snaking through the desolate terrain as if recoiling from the sheer force of her anger.

With a primal scream that shattered the eerie silence of the wasteland, Morwana raised her hands, fingers elongated into talons that crackled with dark energy. The air thickened with the scent of burning ozone as she channeled the raw power coursing through her veins, a power fueled by centuries of festering hatred and unfathomable rage.

"I am Morwana and I will take my vengeance!" Her voice, a cacophony of tormented souls interwoven with the howling winds, reverberated through the desolation. Her words were a damning proclamation, a harbinger of vengeance that resonated through the very fabric of existence.

With each breath, she drew upon the seething reservoir of hatred that festered within her core. Shadows coalesced around her, dancing in macabre cadence as she harnessed the elemental forces, weaving them into a tempestuous storm that mirrored the turmoil within her soul.

The very air crackled with anticipation, heavy with the weight of impending retribution. The goddess of death, now an embodiment of unbridled vengeance, stood as a harbinger of cataclysmic upheaval, a force that threatened to unleash an unfathomable darkness upon the medieval realm.

In that desolate wasteland, Morwana, consumed by a maelstrom of revenge and hate, stood poised at the precipice of cataclysm, a relentless tempest seeking to exact her infernal wrath upon all who had dared to imprison her within the confines of that accursed coffin.

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As evening fell, Rama noticed the profound crack running through the walls toward the lone door leading to the goddess of death’s prison. It was evidently far beyond normal, she immediately panicked in fear as she called out for Draco.

Draco who had been out, suddenly came rushing into the room immediately he heard her call. With questioning eyes, he stared at her.

"Look." She said as she darted her gaze to where she was pointing at with trembling fingers.

His face suddenly darkened as it twisted with a scowl. Without saying anything, he marched toward the door and broke it down with a single kick as he hurriedly descended the stairs.

Rama, confused about what to do, descended the stairs after him as they emerged into the underground crypt, only to see the empty coffin with its lid on the floor.

"Is that where you kept her?" Rama queried with a trembling voice as the realization suddenly hit her that she had been released.

With an inaudible groan, he cursed out "Fuck!"

Ascending back up the stairs, he exited the room while she followed behind him, heart pounding hard against her chest as the acrid taste of fear coated her tongue.

"Where are you going to?" Rama asked, but before he could answer, they came face to face with Zamiel and Malika.

"Morwana has been released, I know where she is." Draco informed Zamiel, but he seemed rather indifferent to the news even when he was obviously disgruntled about the problematic situation.

"The last place you both fought?" Zamiel queried with a straight face and Draco nodded.

"I’ll see you there." Draco said and before Rama could process the rushed situation, he wound his arms around her and a cloud of dark mist suddenly swallowed her form.

In the next heartbeat, the cloudy darkness dissipated into thin air to reveal a dark forest clearing to sight. The winding paths were dimly lit with the soft glow of the moon.

As soon as they materialized at the vicinity, a chilling sensation permeated the air as Lucifer emerged from the shadows and then, in the next second, another figure which she suspected might be Morwana emerged also.

Draco peered his eyes into hers with caution as he warned "Do not do anything Rama, don’t move a single muscle."

Rama fluttered her lashes as she hesitated before nodding.

"Do you understand?" He growled.

"Yes, yes." She stuttered as they returned their gaze prudently back to the two malevolent beings.

From the depths of the dark forest emerged Morwana, the goddess of death. Her arrival was heralded by an otherworldly presence, an aura that seemed to draw the very essence of life into a chilling embrace.

Morwana, a spectral figure cloaked in darkness, emerged from the rift like a shadow coalescing with the night. Her presence seemed to warp reality itself, casting an ethereal chill that permeated the air. Draped in a flowing gown spun from the fabric of twilight, the fabric billowed around her, stirred by an unfelt wind.

Her long, wild mane cascaded like a waterfall of midnight, framing a visage of haunting beauty and profound sorrow. Each strand seemed to possess a life of its own, as though it held the memories of countless souls, whispering secrets carried from realms beyond mortal comprehension. Her hair, an inky cascade that spilled over her shoulders and flowed down her back, held a luster akin to the darkest depths of the abyss.

Eyes, the color of an endless void, stared out from beneath the veil of obsidian strands. Those black orbs held no reflection, no glint of light; they were devoid of pupils or irises, deep pools that seemed to peer into the depths of one’s very soul. They were the windows to an existence untouched by the vibrancy of life, windows that gazed upon the eternal expanse of death itself.

Her skin, porcelain pale, bore the marks of timelessness, an ageless canvas that had witnessed the passage of eons. It carried the weight of history, etched with an ethereal luminescence that accentuated the darkness surrounding her. Upon her brow rested a crown woven from thorns, a symbol of her dominion over the boundary between life and death.

As she stepped forth onto the forest floor, the very earth seemed to shudder beneath her feet. Leaves quivered, trees bowed in reverence, and a spectral mist coiled around her, as though paying homage to her arrival. Her ethereal presence commanded the attention of the surrounding fauna, birds ceased their song, and creatures of the night fell silent in deference to her august being.

Morwana’s gait was a mesmerizing blend of grace and foreboding, each step echoing with the weight of impending destiny. Her movements, fluid and purposeful, seemed to weave a tapestry of fate itself, a fate intertwined with the fabric of mortality.

As she lifted her hand, slender fingers adorned with iridescent rings of unearthly design extended like tendrils of twilight. In her palm materialized a spectral wisp, an ephemeral manifestation of the souls she guided to their eternal rest. The wisp pulsed with a spectral luminescence, an echo of the life that once thrived within mortal vessels.

Her voice, a haunting melody that resonated through the forest, echoed ancient incantations carried on the whispers of the wind. "I am Morwana, keeper of souls, mistress of the eternal slumber," she intoned, her words weaving a haunting harmony with the ambient sounds of the enchanted woods.

The forest seemed to hold its breath in her presence, the air thick with anticipation and reverence. Her arrival heralded an unfathomable shift in the balance between life and death, a convergence of realms that few mortals dared contemplate.

As she lingered at the nexus of existence, the goddess of death, shrouded in her dark beauty, stood as a sentinel between the mortal realm and the ineffable mysteries of the afterlife. Her enigmatic presence cast a pall of both awe and trepidation upon the twisted world, a world now touched by the chilling embrace of the divine embodiment of mortality’s ultimate destination.