I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 278: Lucindra sent you to stop us

Elysia had seen Malvoria in battle before.

She’d seen her tear through rebel camps, walk through fire, stand unflinching before wyvern stampedes.

She had seen the Demon Queen wield her sword like an extension of her soul, elegant and deadly. But this was different.

This was precision.

Malvoria moved like an arrow released from divine tension. Her steps were silent, her blade barely singing through the air.

One by one, guards crumpled before her—not dead, but incapacitated, most with nothing more than a disarming blow to the temple or a paralytic nerve strike.

She wasn’t killing them.

That alone told Elysia more than any whispered plan or spoken vow ever could.

Malvoria wasn’t just fighting for her throne.

She was fighting for her soul.

Elysia moved in tandem beside her, cloak drawn tight, the red fire in her palms dimmed to embers for now.

They were navigating the second inner corridor now, following the winding path that twisted through the east wing and curved toward the throne room like a serpent coiling for the strike.

The castle was bigger than Elysia remembered. It felt stretched, labyrinthine hallways doubled on themselves, staircases dipped into unexpected chambers.

Lucindra had altered more than the crest above the gates.

She’d altered the very bones of the place.

Every hall pulsed with unnatural energy, like the stone itself had learned to listen. And not kindly.

"I don’t recognize this passage," Malvoria whispered, pausing at a T-shaped junction. "That door wasn’t like that last time."

Elysia crouched, brushing her fingers along the tiles. A thin shimmer of magic crackled where her hand passed—a defense ward, cloaked in passive detection.

"She’s wired the entire east wing with dormant surveillance," Elysia said softly. "We step wrong, and she’ll know."

Malvoria cursed under her breath. "And here I thought she lost her taste for paranoia when she left."

"She never lost it. She just focused it inward."

They veered right, down a narrow corridor choked with old banners. The crests were half-burned—some from Lucindra’s own past, others from allies Elysia didn’t recognize.

As they passed an open arch, Elysia paused.

A demon guard stood motionless in the center of a circular room, eyes vacant.

Malvoria reached out to stop her. "Wait."

They both watched.

The guard didn’t move. He didn’t breathe like someone truly present. Just stood there, like a puppet whose strings had been abandoned mid-performance.

Then his head snapped to the side.

Red flared in his eyes.

"Shit—" Malvoria began.

But Elysia was already moving. She lunged forward with a flick of flame, aiming not to destroy, but disrupt.

Her fire surged around the soldier’s body, heating the air until the enchantment shimmered—visible now, like a web of violet threads tangled through his limbs.

"Possession," she murmured. "Someone’s puppeteering."

The soldier let out a guttural scream as he charged forward—but Malvoria ducked low, swept his feet, and jabbed two fingers into the pressure point at the base of his skull.

The magic shattered like glass.

The guard collapsed, unconscious.

"She’s using magic to control the staff," Malvoria muttered. "Probably the inner garrison too."

Elysia stood, panting. "Do you think they volunteered?"

"No. But Lucindra was always fond of shortcuts."

They continued, faster now.

Their path took them through old servant tunnels, half-boarded kitchens, and even a forgotten library, the smell of ink and leather oddly comforting amid the tension.

Every few minutes, they encountered another guard—eyes red, voice inhuman.

Every time, Malvoria neutralized them without lethal force.

It was infuriatingly impressive.

"Why are you trying so hard not to kill?" Elysia asked during a pause.

Malvoria didn’t meet her eyes. "Because they’re mine. And if I start treating them like enemies... I won’t stop."

That answer settled in Elysia’s chest like a brand.

They passed through a tall marble corridor lined with mirrors—some cracked, others enchanted.

Their reflections followed too slowly, like shadows out of sync. One muttered something unintelligible. Elysia clenched her jaw and forced herself not to look back.

They were nearly there.

Another turn. Another hallway. One more arch.

And then—

"Wait," Elysia hissed, freezing mid-step.

Malvoria spun to her. "What is it?"

"I heard something."

A voice. Faint. Familiar.

They moved toward the sound, creeping along the shadowed wall until they reached the base of the grand staircase the one that led directly up to the throne room.

The air was heavy with magic. Something burned faintly on the wind iron and ash.

Elysia peered around the edge.

A figure stood at the top of the stairs.

Tall. Muscular. Unmoving.

Her hair, once chestnut brown, now shimmered with streaks of obsidian. Her stance was tense but composed.

Her armor sleek black, reinforced at the shoulders fit her like a second skin. Her boots clicked once as she stepped forward.

And her eyes—

Gods.

Elysia staggered back a half-step.

Her eyes were red.

But not like the guards’. Not dulled or vacant. These glowed with a scorching light, deep and ancient. The kind of red that came from ritual, not enchantment. From binding.

"Zera," Elysia whispered.

Malvoria stiffened. "Who?"

Elysia didn’t answer at first.

She couldn’t.

Because standing there above them, blocking the path to the throne room—was the woman she’d once loved.

The woman who had trained beside her, fought beside her. Kissed her. Broken her heart.

Zera.

Her Zera. frёeωebɳovel.com

Lucindra had released her.

No worse.

Lucindra had bound her.

The truth hit like a fist. Elysia’s breath left her in a rush.

The red in Zera’s eyes pulsed.

She tilted her head.

And spoke.

"I was told you’d come."

Her voice was deeper now. Hollowed. Controlled.

Malvoria stepped forward. "Lucindra sent you to stop us?"

Zera didn’t blink. "I was promised purpose."

Elysia stared. "Zera, it’s me."

A flicker of something passed through her eyes.

Recognition?

No. Pain.

"I know," Zera said softly.

Then she drew her sword.

And the air ignited.

Zera moved with brutal grace, closing the distance in a blink.

Her blade arced toward Elysia, who barely parried in time, the force of the blow sending her staggering back two steps. Fire leapt from her palm, a protective flare—Zera sliced through it like smoke.

"Zera, listen to me!" Elysia shouted, chest heaving. "This isn’t you—Lucindra’s using you!"

Zera didn’t answer.

Instead, she raised her free hand. Frost bloomed instantly along the stone floor, racing outward like a web of hungry veins. The air dropped into biting cold, and a moment later—

A blade of jagged ice tore through the air.

It struck.

Just a graze Elysia hissed as it nicked her side, blood blooming . She clutched her ribs, stumbling.

Zera’s expression didn’t change.

"Just shut up, Elysia," she said, voice low and venomous. "I do not care about you now. Just die already."