Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Kneel

My eyes opened.

The events of yesterday came flooding back. The pleasure. The moans. The conquest.

A grin spread across my face.

I looked down.

My one-eyed snake was already awake. Standing at attention before I even fully registered consciousness.

’Good morning to you too, buddy.’

I was naked. Completely. Not a single thread on my body.

I turned my head.

Mother was right beside me. So close I could feel her breath on my skin. Her chest rising and falling softly with each exhale.

She was naked too.

We had been too exhausted to put any clothes back on after last night’s storm.

I looked at her face. Peaceful. Beautiful. The faint traces of dried tears and pleasure still visible on her cheeks.

’How can I ever repay this woman?’

Then her eyes fluttered open.

Slowly. Groggily. She rubbed them with her small fists like a child waking from a nap.

’Cute.’

’I want to kiss her.’

Then her brain caught up with reality.

Her eyes went wide. She looked at me. Saw that I was naked. Then looked down at herself.

Also naked.

“Eep!”

She scrambled for the blanket that had been thrown to the ground during our activities. Yanked it up to cover herself.

Then grabbed her nightgown and somehow wiggled into it while still hiding under the sheet.

As if there was any shame left after what we did.

I laughed.

Her face turned bright red. Flustered. Embarrassed. Adorable.

“Mother, get ready.”

She peeked out from behind the blanket.

“We’re going to give a very good morning to father, aunt, and of course…”

My grin turned evil.

“Our dear old grandma.”

She saw my expression.

GULP.

She knew I wasn’t joking. She could see the intent in my eyes. The hunger for revenge that had been building for eight long years.

“Mother, trust me. Just like you did yesterday.”

I reached for her hand.

“Didn’t you feel good? Didn’t I tell you that you would enjoy it?”

She didn’t answer. But her blush deepened.

“Today will be the same. In the ritual, you will win. You will throw that filth of a father away. And you will make those witches pay.”

I squeezed her fingers.

“Just for this, trust me one more time. I would never mean you any harm.”

She looked down. Sad. Conflicted. Her lips moved, murmuring something so quiet it was meant only for herself.

“I’m not thinking about myself… this could be really dangerous for him…”

’She’s worried about me.’

’Even now.’

I stood up from the bed. Let her see my full confidence.

“I’m going to get ready for the great show today. Make sure you do the same.”

I walked toward the door.

“I can’t wait for this.”

And left.

Half an hour passed.

I completed my usual morning routine. Sprinting through the estate grounds. Brushing my teeth. Bathing in cold water to wake every nerve in my body.

Today was the day.

I returned to our room.

And stopped in my tracks.

Mother Helena stood in the center of the room. Wearing a flowing silk gown that hugged her curves in all the right places. A simple waist belt cinched at her middle, accentuating her figure.

The dress looked plain when you examined it alone. But on her? The value multiplied tenfold. She made it look like royal attire.

Behind her, the room had been completely transformed. Fresh bedsheets. Everything organized. No trace of last night’s chaos remained.

No clues left behind.

She looked at me and smiled.

I returned it.

“Ready?”

She nodded. Confusion still lingering in her eyes. But determination too.

I took her hand and pulled her forward.

“Then let’s go.”

I dragged her through the corridors. Past the servant quarters. Past the empty halls.

Straight to the main dining area.

And there they were.

The three demons of this household.

Father sat at the head of the table. Eating his breakfast like a king.

Aunt Melisa was beside him, whispering something into his ear.

Grandmother occupied the other end, sipping her morning tea with that perpetual look of superiority.

Maids and servants bustled around them. Pouring drinks. Serving food. Pretending not to notice the tension that always filled this room.

I stopped at the entrance.

Turned to my mother.

Placed both hands on her cheeks. Cupped her face gently.

“Mother, now do what needs to be done.”

My thumbs stroked her skin.

“This is the final step. Toward our freedom. Toward our new rule. Toward these demons’ end.”

[HELENA’S POV]

I hesitated.

My legs felt like stone. My heart pounded against my ribs.

Their eyes found me. Confused at first. Then predatory. The same look they always gave me before the torture began.

I closed my eyes.

’What should I do? What mess has my son gotten me into?’

I prayed. To any god who would listen. For guidance. For strength. For a sign.

And then I saw it.

Behind my closed eyelids. A light. Warm. Golden. Pushing through the darkness.

From that light, an image formed.

Eren.

My son. My sunshine. My reason for enduring all these years.

A will to stay alive ignited in my chest.

A will to burn the entire world for him.

I opened my eyes.

The coward Helena was gone.

In her place stood a warrior. A mother who had finally found something worth fighting for.

The confusion on my face melted away. Replaced by confidence. By resolve. By the will to push forward no matter what.

I stepped forward.

No trembling. No hesitation. Pure conviction.

My voice rang out across the hall.

“By blood of Astrea and shadow of the Eternal, I invoke the Rite of Supremacy.”

Every head turned toward me.

“Let the Primordial Hands judge whose vessel burns brighter.”

CRASH.

My husband shot up from his chair. The dining table rattled from the force of his sudden movement.

He knew. He had to respect this challenge. The ancient laws demanded it.

He stormed toward me. Stopped inches away.

His face was twisted with rage.

“How dare you oppose me?”

Spit flew from his lips.

“Have you forgotten your place, woman?”

Then he grinned. His eyes drifting to the floor beneath us.

CRACK.

The ground split open. A void of pure darkness formed between us.

“Maybe you want another dose from me.”

His voice dripped with malice.

“After this, I’ll carve something into your flesh. Something that will make you too scared to even look at me. Let alone challenge me again.”

Fear gripped my heart.

But then.

Warmth wrapped around my shoulders.

Eren. He had embraced me from behind. His arms circling my body. His presence pushing back the terror.

“You’ve got this, mom.”

His whisper filled me with strength.

Then he screamed.

“AGHH!”

WHOOOOSH.

The Primordial Hands erupted from the void. Dozens of them. Shadowy appendages made of pure darkness.

They formed a prison around my husband and me. A circular wall of grasping fingers and twisting palms.

Eren had tried to stay with me.

But the hands rejected him.

SIZZLE.

His leg burned where the darkness touched him. His pants caught fire. He was thrown backward, crashing to the floor in agony.

“EREN!”

I wanted to run to him. Check his wounds. Hold him.

But I couldn’t move. The wall of hands wouldn’t let anyone leave. Or enter.

He clutched his leg. Face contorted in pain.

But then he looked up at me.

And gave a thumbs up.

As if saying “I’m fine” or “Good luck” or both.

’This silly child.’

’How will he ever survive the outside world?’

My thoughts were interrupted.

WHOOOOOOSH.

The hands began rotating around us. Faster and faster. Creating a vortex of shadow and ancient power.

I couldn’t hear anything anymore. My mother-in-law’s mouth was moving, probably hurling insults, but her words were swallowed by the roar of the ritual.

My husband stood across from me. Confident. Smug. Certain of his victory.

I was terrified.

Then the hands stopped.

Stillness.

Silence.

I stared at my husband.

Something was changing.

The dark energy from those hands were fading slowly and then it was gone completely replace by fleshy hands.

Then the hands moved.

All of them.

Toward him.

SLAM.

Dozens of palms pressed against his head. His back. His shoulders.

Forcing him down.

Down.

Down.

Until his knees hit the floor.

Until his forehead touched the ground.

The Primordial Hands held him there. Pinned. Bowing before me.

Then they released him.

And turned toward me.

I flinched. Expected pain. Expected punishment.

But instead.

They bowed.

A gesture of respect. Of acknowledgment.

And the hands which were around me, they began to move again. Slowly this time. Gently. Wrapping around my body like a cocoon.

And dissolving into my skin.

Warmth flooded through me. Power I had never felt before. Energy coursing through every vein.

When it was over, I stood alone.

The void closed. The ritual complete.

I looked around.

Every single person in the room was staring at me.

Horror on their faces.

Like they were seeing a ghost.

Melisa choked on her food.

HACK. HACK.

Mother-In-Law’s eyes bulged so wide they looked ready to fall out of her skull.

And my husband.

Remained on his knees.

Broken.

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