Page 58 of Crowned In Venom

58

ANYA

T he throne room is a battlefield of shadows and blood.

Magic crackles through the air, thick as storm clouds before lightning strikes. The stench of burnt flesh and raw power clings to my tongue, making it hard to breathe. The Matriarch stands before us, monstrous and unrelenting, her form flickering, warping as the darkness within her struggles to hold itself together.

I can feel her magic.

It pulses beneath my skin, hot and toxic. It slithers into my veins like venom, twisting, writhing—but I can also feel something else.

The poison.

It’s inside her. Corrupting her. Slowing her.

She doesn’t realize what’s happening yet. But I do.

And I can use it.

Varkos is barely standing, his breath ragged, his blood staining the marble floor. He grips his sword, his knuckles white with fury, but I can feel his pain through our bond.

The Matriarch watches us both, her lips curled in disgust.

"You think you’ve won?" she sneers, her voice like glass cutting through flesh. "You are nothing. Both of you."

Her hand lifts.

Magic rushes toward us.

I react on instinct.

The connection between us flares like an open wound.

I grip it. Twist it.

The Matriarch staggers.

Her magic sputters.

She gasps— eyes widening as if something is seizing her from the inside out.

"What—"

She tries again, hurling another spell. But it backfires. The energy collapses, twisting inward—the poison surging into her veins.

She screams.

I watch as her body seizes.

Her power is eating her alive.

She thrashes, clawing at her own skin, her hands burning with black fire. The shadows around her twist and coil like wounded beasts, as if even they fear what she is becoming.

"You wretched—" she snarls, but the words choke in her throat.

Her magic is turning against her.

I feel her through our bond, her panic, her rage, her fear.

"No—NO!" she shrieks. Her voice cracks.

The air distorts, the room quaking beneath the force of her unraveling power.

Varkos lurches forward, his body a storm of fury and blood.

He raises his sword.

The Matriarch snaps her head toward him, eyes wild.

"You will not kill me!" she screeches.

A final burst of pure malice erupts from her body.

The force hits Varkos.

He grits his teeth, pushing through it. His legs buckle, but he does not fall.

Not this time.

Not when she’s at her weakest.

I step forward, my voice cutting through the chaos.

"You lose."

The Matriarch’s gaze snaps to me.

For the first time, there is true fear in her eyes.

And then?—

Varkos strikes.

His blade sinks deep into her chest.

The world stills.

The Matriarch gasps, her body arching backward, clawing at the wound as if she can will it shut.

Her lips part in a soundless scream—her power collapsing, imploding upon itself.

She begins to burn.

The shadows that once obeyed her turn to cinders, curling away from her form. Her skin blackens, cracking like shattered porcelain.

She reaches for Varkos, for me.

But there is nothing left for her to take.

"Varkos," she whispers—but it is not his name she speaks with love.

It is his father’s.

And then—she is gone.

Her body crumbles, dissolving into nothing but ash and screams.

The throne room is silent.

The darkness that suffocated these walls for so long is broken.

I look at Varkos.

His sword drips with the last remnants of her reign.

His chest rises and falls, his breath heavy, his eyes unreadable.

He looks at me—truly looks at me.

And I know.

We are free.

A clap interrupts the uplifting moment followed by laughter.

Kareth puts down his axe by the door and laughs, his eyes twinkling.

“Finally. It’s over.”