Darian led the way, Jaenor’s unconscious weight balanced on his shoulders. His breathing was already labored, but he pushed forward without complaint. Taeryn took the rear, his eyes constantly scanning for threats.

Morgana and Rena stayed between them, supporting each other as they navigated the devastated landscape.

Behind them, the battle intensified.

Wendelina had summoned something massive—a construct of pure origin energy shaped like a massive serpent. It coiled through the air, its body as thick as a tree trunk, and when it struck at Draelusa, the impact created a shockwave that flattened everything in a thirty-foot radius.

Draelusa responded by tearing open rifts in reality itself. Darkness poured through the wounds in space, and things emerged—creatures that shouldn’t exist, made of nightmare and void. They shrieked as they attacked the witches, and their screams were sounds that no living throat should make.

“Don’t look back,” Morgana urged.

“Just keep moving.”

They reached the tree line, entering the deeper forest. The sounds of battle didn’t fade—if anything, they seemed to grow louder, echoing through the trees. But at least here they had cover, shadows to hide in.

Raelana appeared beside them like a ghost, moving with practiced silence. Baren was with her.

“The temple’s lost,” Raelana said quietly.

“Draelusa’s forces are breaching it now.”

“I’m sure Mother can deal with them.”

“Let’s go,” she said.

The group moved deeper into the forest, putting distance between themselves and the battle. Darian’s breathing grew more ragged with each step, Jaenor’s weight taking its toll, but he didn’t slow. Taeryn kept his spear ready, eyes alert for any pursuit.

They kept running into the deeper part of the forest, away from the battle.

They were able to get away because of the intensity of the battle. The two forces were too focused on each other that they forgot about the little support group Jaenor had.

Morgana knew that if Wendelina got her hands on Jaenor, then she would definitely use him for herself or worse. She was determined to take Jaenor away. While his friends, even though terrified of what they saw just now, wished with all their heart that they could save Jaenor, and they were trying to.

The desperation and the fear, all of the emotions, were clear on their faces; sweat kept rolling down their faces, and lungs kept pumping in and out as they ran faster.

They’d made it perhaps half a mile when Baren suddenly stopped.

“Wait,” he whispered urgently.

Everyone froze.

The forest had gone silent.

No birds, no insects, no wind.

Just absolute, oppressive silence that pressed down like a physical weight.

Something was wrong.

Morgana felt it first—a presence, vast and old, watching them from somewhere in the darkness between the trees. Her skin prickled, and a chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold night air.

“Do you feel that?” Rena whispered.

They all did.

something enormous and powerful, just beyond perception, observing them with interest that felt predatory.

Then, from deeper in the forest, came voices.

“—hesitating to take him in, to turn him to the dark side.”

The voice was feminine and sultry, with an undercurrent of venom. It carried through the trees despite the distance, as if the speaker wanted them to hear.

Another voice responded, this one deeper and more ancient, with layers that suggested vast age and power.

“My intentions are my own, Lilinathara. As for hesitation—I don’t hesitate. I calculate. I plan. I ensure success rather than rushing in blindly.”

Morgana’s blood turned to ice.

She recognized the name from earlier. The one who was present with Draelusa.

Another sin.

Lilinathara — Sin of Lust.

One of the seven demons who’d ruled before the Separation.

If Draelusa had been terrifying in his power, Lilinathara was something else entirely. The stories said she’d destroyed entire kingdoms for sport, that she could corrupt the strongest wills with a whisper and that her power made Draelusa look like a novice by comparison.

And she was here.

In these woods.

Close enough that they could hear her speaking.

“Hide,” Raelana breathed, her face pale.

“Everyone, hide now. Don’t move, don’t make a sound and don’t even think too loudly.”

They scattered into the undergrowth, pressing themselves against tree trunks and behind fallen logs. Darian carefully lowered Jaenor to the ground, positioning him behind a massive root system. Morgana crouched beside them, her heart hammering so hard she was certain it would give them away.

Through the gaps in the foliage, she could see movement.

Two figures stood in a small clearing perhaps fifty yards away.

Even from this distance, their presence was overwhelming.

The first was clearly Lilinathara.

She was tall and impossibly beautiful, with features so perfect they seemed sculpted by an artist obsessed with ideal form. Her hair was white-blonde, falling in waves past her waist. Her skin seemed to glow faintly in the darkness, luminescent and flawless. She wore armor that looked like it was made from crystallized sins—dark purple and black, form-fitting, adorned with designs that hurt to look at directly.

But her eyes were what drew the attention. They were solid violet, with no pupil or white, and they burned with an intensity that suggested madness barely contained. When she moved, reality seemed to shudder around her, as if the world itself was uncomfortable with her presence.

The other figure was different.

Where Lilinathara radiated corrupted beauty, this woman embodied ancient power. She appeared maturely charming, perhaps forty in human years, with dark hair shot through with silver. Her face was strong rather than beautiful, carved by time and experience into something commanding. She wore robes that seemed woven from shadows themselves, and her eyes—when they caught the light—glowed with a deep red that suggested banked fires.

Magdalyna.

The one whom she saw with Jaenor during the mountain castle battle.

An ancient demoness, older than recorded history.

Some stories claimed she’d existed before the Separation, that she’d watched civilizations rise and fall like seasons changing. If Lilinathara was a force of nature, Magdalyna was a force of history itself.

And both of them were discussing Jaenor.

“The boy’s potential is obvious,” Lilinathara was saying, circling Magdalyna like a predator assessing prey.

“His cores have merged. He’s achieved what hasn’t been seen in over a thousand years. And you’re just going to let him slip away? Let these pathetic mortals protect him?”

“I’m going to let events unfold as they will,” Magdalyna replied calmly.

“The boy is important, yes. But he’s not ready for what you would make of him. Force him now, and you’ll break him. Ruin his potential completely.”

“Potential is worthless if never actualized.”

Lilinathara stopped circling, facing Magdalyna directly. Power began to gather around her, violet energy that pulsed with malevolent life.

“If you won’t claim him, I will. Imagine what I could do with a vessel like that. What pleasures and agonies I could teach him. What destruction we could wreak together.”

Magdalyna’s expression hardened.

“No.”

The single word carried absolute authority.

“No?” Lilinathara’s smile was razor-sharp.

“You think you can stop me, old one? You may be ancient, but I am a Sin. My power is fundamental to mortal existence itself. Every living being that feels desire feeds me strength. What do you have that could possibly match that?”

“Experience,” Magdalyna said quietly.

“Patience. And no qualms about ending you if you force my hand.”

The air between them suddenly ignited.

Violet energy erupted from Lilinathara, a wave of corrupted power that should have incinerated everything in a hundred-yard radius. But it met an opposing force—deep crimson power that Magdalyna manifested without visible effort.

The two energies collided in the space between the demonesses, and reality screamed.

Morgana pressed herself harder against the tree, trying to make herself as small as possible. The pressure from the clash was incredible, pushing down on everything like an invisible avalanche. She could barely breathe.

Beside her, Rena was shaking, tears streaming silently down her face from sheer terror.

The two forces held, perfectly balanced, neither giving ground. The clearing where they stood began to warp, trees bending away from the epicenter of power, grass withering and dying in an instant.

But neither demoness had moved to actually attack.

This wasn’t a fight.

It was a statement.

A warning wrapped in a demonstration of capability.

“You see?” Magdalyna’s voice remained calm despite the apocalyptic power she was channeling.

“You can’t match me, and you know that. If we truly fight, we’ll destroy everything for miles, including the boy. Is that what you want?”

“What I want,” Lilinathara hissed, “is for you to stop interfering in matters that don’t concern you.”

“The boy concerns me. Therefore, your interest in him concerns me.”

Magdalyna’s power pulsed, pushing back against Lilinathara’s assault.

“He’s under my observation. Touch him, and I’ll consider it a declaration of war between us.”

Lilinathara’s eyes blazed brighter, and for a terrifying moment, Morgana thought the demoness would actually attack. The violet energy intensified, growing more violent, and the ground itself began to crack.

Then, slowly, Lilinathara pulled her power back.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep