I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 275: Start of the assault

The stone beneath their boots shimmered with dormant magic, etched with runes so old they hummed with the weight of a thousand battles.

The teleportation portal loomed before them, a great disc of carved obsidian inlaid with shifting silver lines that pulsed in time with the breath of the realm itself.

Malvoria stood closest to it, her arms folded behind her back, her crimson cloak gently stirring in the morning breeze.

The anticipation in her chest was a taut, metallic thing—somewhere between battle readiness and the thrill of returning home to set it ablaze.

The others stood in a wide semicircle around the circle, all armored in their own way. Raveth in her dark-plated leathers, practical and worn.

Lara in her sleeveless vest and twin blades strapped to her back, chewing on a piece of dried fruit like it was the last snack she’d ever enjoy. Veylira gods above looked like she’d just stepped out of a royal opera.

Malvoria arched a brow.

Veylira wore a high-necked gown of sleek black silk, cinched with a silver belt shaped like a serpent.

It shimmered faintly in the light, and the slit up one side was scandalous enough that even the wind seemed hesitant to misbehave.

Her hair was done in a sharp coil, jeweled pins holding it in place like daggers disguised as elegance.

"She’s going to seduce Lucindra," Malvoria reminded herself under her breath. "Not decapitate her. Hopefully."

Of course, Lara had no intention of letting the moment pass in silence.

"Wow, Mother," she drawled, arms crossed, "you planning to overthrow her with cleavage and high heels? Or is there a dagger strapped to your thigh under all that silk?"

Veylira did not flinch. "Why would I waste steel when poison and silence do the job better?"

"Oh, there’s poison?" Lara looked delighted. "Didn’t know this was a dinner date."

Raveth, without so much as a glance, smacked the back of Lara’s head.

"Ow!"

"Silence," Raveth said flatly. "Save your idiocy for the gate."

Malvoria let the bickering wash over her. It was familiar, grounding. The kind of noise that made the silence that would follow feel more real.

She turned to look at Kaelith.

The baby sat in Saelira’s arms, dressed in a soft lavender tunic adorned with embroidered flames.

Her tiny fingers were curled around the edge of her grandmother’s robe, her bright grey eyes wide and far too knowing. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t fussing.

She was watching.

Elysia stepped forward first, crouching beside them. "We’ll be back before sunset, little one," she said gently. "Be good for Great-Grandmother."

Kaelith blinked slowly, then reached out toward Malvoria with a sudden, urgent sound.

Malvoria’s heart twisted.

She crossed the space and took her daughter into her arms one last time. The weight of her was small, warm, fragile—infinitely more terrifying than any blade.

She kissed the top of Kaelith’s head. "I’ll come back. And when I do, I expect to hear that you didn’t set the library on fire."

Kaelith squealed and headbutted her collarbone.

A good sign.

Elysia joined them, wrapping one arm around both of them. For a moment, the world was only the three of them again. Their cocoon.

"I love you," Elysia whispered.

"I know," Malvoria murmured. "I love you, too."

Then, carefully, she passed Kaelith back to Saelira. The elder demoness’s arms were strong, steady, and her expression unreadable.

"Don’t let anyone near her," Malvoria said softly.

"I’d like to see them try," Saelira replied. "Go. Reclaim your home."

Malvoria turned to the circle.

"First wave," she said, voice clear and sharp. "Veylira. You distract Lucindra. Get close. Keep her occupied. Use whatever means necessary."

Veylira lifted her chin. "She’ll never know what hit her."

"Second wave—Raveth, Lara. You breach the western gates. Fast, loud, and disruptive. You only need to draw attention away from the throne room."

Raveth nodded. "Understood."

Lara spun her dagger once and grinned. "I’m bringing the noise."

"Third wave," Malvoria continued. "Elysia and I. We go in last. We strike the throne room directly once Lucindra is distracted and the gates are in chaos. No mercy."

Elysia’s hand brushed hers, fingers firm and sure.

Malvoria took a deep breath, then gave one last look to her daughter.

"To victory," she said.

The portal surged to life.

The runes ignited, first in silver, then in red, then in violet. A rush of wind spiraled up, catching cloaks and hair, and the space within the circle began to shimmer like heat above fire.

Veylira stepped forward without hesitation. One hand on her hip, the other raised in a slight wave toward her daughter.

"I’ll see you on the other side," she said. "Don’t be late."

Then she vanished, the light swallowing her in a single flash.

A breath later, Raveth and Lara stepped into position.

"Try not to get stabbed before I can mock you about it," Lara said.

"Keep up, and I won’t have to," Raveth replied.

They disappeared in tandem, the portal shimmering again, then going still.

Malvoria closed her eyes. Just for a second.

Then Elysia’s hand was in hers, steady and warm.

Together, they stepped onto the circle.

They arrived in the shadow of a twisted cliff face, half-buried in wild vines and volcanic stone. The air here was sharp—drenched in sulfur and old blood.

The remnants of the old path to the castle curled down through jagged rocks, and in the distance, across the charred valley, the towers of the Black Citadel rose into the ash-streaked sky.

Malvoria exhaled.

Home.

If home had been gutted and rebuilt by someone who didn’t deserve it.

The teleportation was smooth, but the moment they landed, the tension tightened like a vice.

Elysia shifted beside her, eyes scanning the horizon, hands twitching near her weapons.

A low rustle of movement to the left made Malvoria turn.

Raveth and Lara were crouched near a moss-covered boulder, eyes focused on the castle walls far ahead. They’d landed without issue. Good.

To their right, a flicker of motion.

Veylira.

She had positioned herself beneath a withered tree, straightening her dress with the calm of someone attending a masquerade rather than a war.

Her presence was magnetic—imposing, poised, dangerously elegant.

And, apparently, irresistible bait.

Lara squinted at her. "She’s actually going to flirt with Lucindra like that? That’s war crime levels of seduction."

"Shut up," Raveth muttered. freewēbnoveℓ.com

But Malvoria could hear the faintest grin behind the words.

The wind shifted. From this distance, they could see the front of the castle gates, flanked by six sentries in dark armor—Lucindra’s personal guard.

Their helmets glinted like onyx in the weak sunlight, spears planted like markers on a grave.

Malvoria looked to Veylira.

"Your turn," she said.

Veylira turned to them, her face unreadable. She offered a small smile—not warm, but genuine enough.

Then she stepped forward, her movements unhurried, her heels clicking on the blackened stone.

As she approached the guards, something changed in her.

The shift was subtle but lethal.

Her posture altered, spine straighter, gaze distant but alluring. A queen from a foreign land, cloaked in mystery and blood-slick charm.

The kind of woman who walked into enemy territory and made them think it had always belonged to her.

The guards raised their weapons, but did not lower them.

"State your name and intent," one barked.

Veylira didn’t slow. "Tell your mistress," she said smoothly, "that her beloved is here to see her."

The guards exchanged a glance.

One of them blinked, clearly recognizing her.

"She said if I ever returned," Veylira added softly, "not to be kept waiting."

The tension broke.

The nearest sentry stepped aside, gesturing stiffly. "Enter."

She smiled.

And vanished through the gates.

Malvoria turned to Elysia, hand tightening around her blade hilt.

"Let’s start," she said.