The morning light filtered through the tall arched windows of the dining hall, casting a soft glow over the remnants of our breakfast. The air carried the faint, comforting scent of fresh bread and spiced tea.
She sat across from me, her red hair streaked with those striking white strands catching the light like threads of moonlight.
The black blindfold she wore hid her eyes, but I could feel her gaze on me, steady and warm, as if she could see straight into my soul.
I pushed my plate aside, the last bite of fruit lingering sweetly on my tongue.
"So what'll I be doing here then?"I said, my voice soft in the quiet room.
Elysiana's lips curved into a gentle smile, her composed demeanor wrapping around me like a familiar embrace.
"No need to be hasty, My lord." she replied, her tone laced with that loving loyalty that made my heart steady.
"For now just familiarize yourself in this new environment."
After breakfast We left the hall together, our footsteps echoing softly on the polished stone floors of the temple corridors.
"Nyami, How's the elf I captured yesterday doing?" Elysiana spoke with indifference
"She's currently being interrogated by Lady Isolde herself, High Priestess"
"Take us there."
"As you wish" Nyami said as she started leading the way.
The air grew cooler as we descended the winding stairs toward the underground levels, the walls smooth under my fingertips.
Elysiana walked beside me, her presence a soothing anchor, her robes dragging against the floor.
Nyami followed a step ahead, her pinkish-red hair swaying with each movement, those elegant dark red horns catching faint torchlight.
She was our steadfast companion, her maid's attire simple yet graceful, always ready with a quiet word or a steady hand.
"The paths below are secure, Your Highness,"she murmured, her voice a gentle ripple in the stillness.
The descent felt endless, each step pulling us deeper into the earth's embrace.
The air turned crisp, carrying a faint metallic tang that hinted at the secrets held within.
Finally, we reached the heavy iron door at the base, its surface gleaming unnaturally white in the lantern light.
The underground prison was no dank dungeon of legend; it was clean, almost pristine, walls of smooth white stone reflecting the soft illumination like polished marble.
Before the door stood a woman, her long flowing black hair cascading over her shoulders like midnight silk.
Her red eyes gleamed with an intensity that made the air hum, and her curvaceous figure was draped in a deep crimson gown that hugged her form with elegant allure.
She was in her thirties, I guessed, exuding a mature confidence that drew the eye. As we approached, she bowed low, her movements fluid and respectful.
"Your Highness, Crown Prince Nyx," she said, her voice rich and velvety, like aged wine poured over velvet.
"I, Isolde Bloodrose, Duchess of Bloodrose house expresses our deepest delight to meet the new crown prince of the Mooncrest Empire at last."
Her red eyes lifted to meet mine, a spark of curiosity flickering there, and I felt the weight of her gaze like a caress across my skin.
I inclined my head, returning the gesture with the poise.
"Likewise." The words felt right on my tongue, steady despite the undercurrent of tension coiling in my chest.
Isolde's smile deepened, a subtle curve that promised layers beneath her polished exterior.
"The honor is mine, Prince Nyxus. Shall we proceed? The prisoner awaits inside."
Elysiana nodded, her hand lightly touching my elbow—a tender anchor amid the growing chill. 'Lead on, Duchess.'
The door swung open with a soft hiss, revealing the stark white chamber beyond.
The air inside was cooler still, laced with the sharp scent of sweat and iron.
My eyes adjusted to the light, and there, in the center, hung Lirael, the elf who had dared to strike at me.
Her hands were bound high above her head, chains glinting against the white walls. A gag muffled her breaths, and she had no top, her lithe elven form marked by red welts from the whip—crisscrossing lines that spoke of relentless questioning.
Her eyes, once fierce, were now hollow, shadowed by dried tear tracks that streaked her pale cheeks.
She looked like a broken doll, nothing of the attacker who had lunged at me in the night.
A pang twisted in my gut, not pity exactly, but the raw ache of seeing life bent under pressure.
Yet I held my composure, if she came to kill someone she should have known the consequences.
Isolde stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the stone floor.
"This is Lirael, an elven mage from the Tuárnial Kingdom," she explained, her voice calm but edged with steel.
"She was under direct orders from the Elven Queen herself to eliminate his Highness. And it runs deeper—they've made a pact with shadowy cults, trading secrets to pinpoint your exact location."
Elysiana's body tensed beside me, her blindfolded face turning toward Lirael.
I felt it before I saw it—a sudden burst of her aura, like a storm breaking over calm seas.
Rage rippled through the air, thick and electric, pressing against my skin like heated silk.
Nyami shifted uncomfortably, her breath catching, and even Isolde's poised stance faltered for a heartbeat, her red eyes widening slightly.
But me? I stood unmoved, the fury washing over me like a familiar tide, Elysiana's emotions barely affecting me.
Lirael however coughed violently, a wet, ragged sound, blood flecking her lips around the gag.
No one moved to help her; the room's focus was a blade, sharp and unyielding.
Elysiana glided forward, her robes flowing like liquid shadow.
She reached up, her fingers deftly untying the gag, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.
"Speak, elf," she commanded, her voice low and trembling with barely contained wrath.
'Did your queen truly believe she could sever ties with Mooncrest out of greed, declare independence, and now strike at us simply because we defend our borders and never invade? Is this the honor of the elven folk?"
Lirael gasped, her chest heaving, the welts on her skin glistening under the lights.
Her hollow eyes flicked to Elysiana, then to me, a mix of defiance and exhaustion in their depths.
"The... the kingdom... it's drowning in debt," she rasped, her voice hoarse from screams unspoken. '
"After we broke free from Mooncrest's grasp, the reserves emptied. Trade routes collapsed, alliances frayed. The queen... she clings.... to the old prophecies, twists them into excuses." The words hung in the air, heavy as chains.
Elysiana's aura flared again, hotter this time, the rage coiling around us like invisible flames licking at the edges of my senses.
I could taste it on my tongue, sharp and metallic, mirroring the storm in her heart.
Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening beneath her sleeves.
"Treachery upon treachery," Elysiana whispered, her voice a silken thread pulled taut.
She turned to Isolde, her blindfold hiding the fire I knew burned beneath.
"Isolde, cast this wretch into the deepest cells. Hold her until I deem her of further use—or until the Goddess demands her end."
Isolde nodded, her curvaceous form straightening with resolve.
"As you command, High Priestess. She will trouble no more." With a gesture to unseen guards, the chains rattled, and Lirael was lowered, her body slumping as rough hands dragged her away.
Her cough echoed faintly, but it faded into the white walls.
We turned, exiting the chamber into the corridor's cool embrace.
The door sealed behind us with a resonant click, sealing away the interrogation's echoes.
The walk back was slower, the air lighter now, but the tension lingered like a lover's unresolved touch—promising more, demanding patience. Nyami walked close,a silent reassurance.
"Do not worry about That elf's words, my prince," she said softly, her horns glinting as she glanced at me.
"But with the Priestess, Mooncrest stands unbowed, no one can touch you now."
Isolde led us upward, her black hair swaying with hypnotic rhythm, her red eyes occasionally meeting mine over her shoulder.
The corridor brightened as we ascended, the stone warming underfoot, carrying us toward Elysiana's office chamber.
The door to the chamber opened with a soft creak, revealing a space bathed in afternoon light from high windows draped in sheer fabrics.
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes that whispered of forgotten magics, and a large desk dominated the center, scattered with parchments and a flickering candle.
The air was rich with the scent of aged paper and faint incense, a sanctuary amid the temple's vastness.
"Huh?" But my breath froze in my throat as my eyes landed on her.
Standing—no, rising gracefully from the plush sofa in the corner—was a vision that stole the air from my lungs.
She was a demon, that much was clear from the subtle curve of hidden horns beneath her white hair, which fell in soft waves to her shoulders.
Her eyes were golden, like molten sunlight captured in twin pools, gleaming with an otherworldly allure.
Her skin was milky white, smooth and luminous, begging to be touched, and she appeared no older than fifteen, her slender form clad in a simple yet elegant gown of deep indigo that hinted at the soft curves beneath. Time seemed to stretch, my senses awakening to her presence.
She turned at our entrance, her golden eyes sweeping the room before locking onto Isolde.
"Aunty," she said, her voice a melodic lilt, smooth as honeyed wine.
"I came as you ordered,"
Then her gaze shifted, taking in Elysiana's regal form and the blindfold that veiled her secrets. Recognition dawned, and she dipped into a slight bow, graceful as a dancer's sway.
"Ah, Lady Elysiana," she greeted, respect threading her tone like silk.
"Pleasure meeting you again."
"Rise, little Leyina. You have grown so much." Elysiana inclined her head, her composure unbroken, though I sensed a flicker of curiosity in the tilt of her chin.
Leyina straightened, her milky skin flushing ever so slightly under the light, and her eyes—those captivating golden depths—finally turned to me.
They widened a fraction, curiosity sparking like embers in their glow. She stepped closer, the air between us humming with unspoken questions, her white hair swaying gently.
"And who might this be?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing, laced with a wonder.
But my mind was nowhere on her word.
Because Infront of me was no other than the very Demon Empress who destroyed half of the humanity...
A being of unfathomable power. Cloaked in a mantle of darkness, who's golden gaze burnt with a terrible hunger for revenge against the world that shackled her.
An enchantress whose allure is eclipsed only by her thirst for chaos. As she unraveled the very fabric of humanity, destiny trembled at her feet, teetering on the brink of annihilation.
The Forbidden Villainess of a game named Divinity's Beloved
Leyina Bloodrose