Eternal Undying Chronicles

The bicorn sped through the night, its dark coat blending seamlessly with the shadows cast by the neon lights of the city.

The only visible sign of its presence was the glowing violet eyes of the reaper mounted on its back, his cloak billowing in the wind as they raced through the streets.

Alicarde's hostage, limp and barely conscious, dangled precariously, held together by the fangs of the bicorn.

Wrath moved erratically, darting through alleys and side streets with no clear destination in mind. It mirrored the chaos in its master's heart, a reflection of the turmoil within.

Eventually, Alicarde's thoughts commanded the creature to stop, and Wrath skidded to a halt in a dark, narrow alley.

Alicarde dismounted hurriedly, stumbling as he fell to his knees. His hands clawed at the mask beneath his hood, tearing it off just in time to vomit violently onto the cobblestone. He remained on his knees, gasping for breath, the sound of his ragged breathing echoing off the alley walls.

Under the hood, Alicarde's face was pale, a stark contrast to the usual color in his cheeks. His hands shook as he pushed himself up, moving away from the foul stench of his lunch.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his mind replaying the gruesome scene he had just created. Alicarde was no stranger to horror—he had seen worse at the docks, where blood and death were companions. But this time, something felt different.

His hands trembled uncontrollably, yet a dark smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He was happy, yes, but there was something else—a gnawing feeling he couldn't quite place. Was it regret? Fear? He didn't understand it, didn't know why the thrill of killing humans left him feeling so much joy, but at the same time, he was conflicted by the act.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

'Something is different,' he thought, his mind racing. 'It wasn't like this when I killed Argint's brother, or the Strigoi, or the chimeras. Is killing humans really that different?' He clenched his fists, trying to steady his hands.

"No... these aren't humans, and even if they are, so what? I will end them all." He muttered the words aloud, as if speaking them would make them true.

Alicarde reached out telepathically, sending a surge of magic into the mark that connected him to Malefica.

"Malefica," he called, his voice echoing in her mind. "I have the target. Do you want him brought to your place? Because I have a special dungeon just for the likes of him."

A sigh echoed back in his mind. "You really can't be discreet, can you? The whole incident was live on some channel—now the entire internet has footage."

Alicarde sat there in silence, not in the mood to retort. Malefica sensed his hesitation.

"What is it? You're usually more ill-mannered. Cat got your tongue?"

Alicarde sighed, leaning on the wall of the dark alley, the street nearby abuzz with activity. He took a deep breath.

"Actually, I was just thinking about undressing you, I just didn't know how to say it."

"Hmmm, is that so... I would take offense under normal circumstances. However, I am willing to make an exception, considering your precarious mental state," Malefica replied smoothly.

"What the hell are you on about?" Alicarde said coldly.

"I'm talking about your mental state. Have you forgotten that I am a professor of psychology? If I couldn't tell after spending time around you, then I don't deserve my PhD or my millennia of experience. The signs are all there," Malefica responded.

"What signs? I don't know what you're talking about," Alicarde feigned ignorance.

"I've met you before—whatever it was that caused you to change so drastically. While you weren't exactly the friendliest person, you weren't this aggressive or crazed. The footage from tonight just confirmed my suspicions. I don't need to give you a psychological evaluation to know," Malefica said, her voice firm.

"And so what... mind your own business," Alicarde replied coldly through the telepathic link. Explore more adventures at empire

"I am minding my own business. At least I was, but you and I have a pact for the next nine years. By the terms of our pact, I'm supposed to provide support in all aspects, or did you not read the contract you signed?"

"I don't care," Alicarde snapped.

"I do care, and that's why I'm making you an offer. Other than teaching you magic, I will also be acting as your therapist."

Alicarde held his head in his hands, frustration evident. "I don't believe in therapy, so no thanks."

"I think you misunderstood something," Malefica said, her tone growing more authoritative. "This isn't a suggestion."

"You will be going through therapy unless you want to deal with the consequences of breaking our pact. Your choice."

"I don't have time for this," Alicarde growled, trying to cut off the telepathic link.

Malefica's voice cut back in before he could close the connection completely, her words slipping into his thoughts.

"Listen, Alicarde, I'm not doing this for me. If you spiral out of control, it won't just be you who suffers. You've chosen a path where lives will hang in the balance, including those you care about. Don't be so quick to dismiss help, even if it's from me."

Alicarde stood silently, his thoughts swirling in disarray. "Fine, but I'm not doing it because I need your help," he muttered begrudgingly.

Gathering himself, Alicarde stood up and mounted Wrath once more. The bicorn sensed its master's resolve, its powerful legs tensing as it prepared to leap into action.

With a surge of energy, Wrath took off, its hooves striking the pavement with a rhythmic pounding.

They charged toward a nearby skyscraper, the colossal structure looming overhead like a dark monolith. With an impossible grace, Wrath ran up the side of the building as if it were solid ground, its hooves gripping the smooth surface.

The city lights below transformed into streaks of vibrant color, swirling into a beautiful chaos as they ascended. The wind howled around them, tugging at Alicarde's cloak and whipping his hair back, sending a thrill of exhilaration coursing through him.

Each heartbeat matched the rapid rhythm of their climb, the world blurring into a dizzying tapestry of neon and shadow.

Just as they neared the pinnacle of the skyscraper, a shimmering ripple in the air heralded their departure. In a split second, a wave of darkness enveloped them, and they vanished from the rooftop, teleporting away into the night.

The ride back to Malefica's residence was brief, but the rush of wind still cut sharply against Alicarde's skin as Wrath flew through the inky darkness. One moment they were soaring through the sky, and the next, they reappeared in a dimly lit room, where the flickering glow of candles cast eerie shadows that danced along the walls.

The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, mingling with the faint feminine fragrance of the witch who called this place home. The room was a chaotic haven of stacks of papers and tomes, all centered around a large table adorned with a glowing screen and various devices.

Malefica sat at the table, her fingers flying over a keyboard as she typed, her gaze intensely focused on the data they had obtained from the precinct.

Alicarde dismounted smoothly, his movements precise and fluid despite the lingering chaos in his heart. He grabbed the mafia thug he had captured, the man's body a twisted mess of broken bones and torn flesh, yet somehow still clinging to life.

With a dismissive swing of its head, Wrath flung the thug onto the cold stone floor, the sickening thud of his mangled body hitting the ground echoing throughout the chamber.

Blood pooled around the man, his breathing ragged and uneven, each exhale a wheeze of agony that hung in the air like a thick fog.

Malefica stood up from her chair, her eyes glinting in the candlelight as she approached. To Alicarde's surprise, she smiled—a rare, almost unsettling expression on her usually stern face.

"You'll get blood on my carpet," she quipped, her tone light, a hint of amusement coloring her voice.

Alicarde blinked, caught off guard by the unusual behavior.

"Please stop that. You're creeping me out," he muttered, dismissing the reaper's vestments with a wave of his hand.

His ashen face appeared from beneath the hood, his features drawn and pale, a stark contrast to the lingering darkness in his eyes.

Malefica's smile faded, replaced by her usual stern expression.

"I am actually being nice to you," she said, her voice carrying a hint of understanding. "I think I have a better understanding of your mental state now."

Alicarde frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Okay, I don't need your pity... I hate it."

"I'm not pitying you," Malefica replied, her tone firm.

"Starting now, not only will I teach you magic, but I will also act as your therapist. I am, after all, a professional."

Alicarde sighed, turning his gaze to the mutilated man lying on the floor. "What are we going to do about him?"

"For starters, we fix him," Malefica said, her eyes cold and calculating.

"You're not going to say hand him to the police after we're done, right?" Alicarde asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"No, not this one... I wouldn't," Malefica responded, her voice growing colder.

"If he still has a mind after I'm done with him, he's yours to kill." Her imperious eyes glinted as she reached into her clothes, pulling out a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid.

Malefica uncorked the vial and carefully dripped the potion onto the man's mangled body. The effects were immediate.

His broken bones began to realign with sickening cracks, his torn flesh knitting itself back together, muscle and skin regenerating before their eyes. The man's face twisted in pain as his body was forcibly restored, every nerve screaming in protest at the violation of his suffering.

The man's eyes fluttered open, a flicker of consciousness returning. Malefica's cold voice was the first thing he heard.

"That was an expensive healing potion—you'll have to pay me back." There was no warmth in her tone, only a chilling indifference.

With a wave of her hand, Malefica lifted the man into the air as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll. She flung him into a nearby chair, and as he landed, thick ropes materialized out of thin air, winding around his limbs and binding him tightly to the chair.

His mouth was gagged by the same ropes, muffling any attempts to scream or plead.

"Did you get rid of his phone or anything that can be used to trace him?" Malefica asked, her eyes never leaving the bound man.

"Yeah, I crushed his phone with his bones," Alicarde answered, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Good. Now, let's get started," Malefica said, her tone devoid of any sympathy.

The man's eyes widened in terror as Malefica placed her hand on his forehead.

Alicarde could hear the most miserable, suppressed shrieking he had ever heard, the sound barely escaping past the ropes gagging the man's mouth.

The thug's body convulsed as Malefica's magic invaded his mind, his eyes rolling back in his head as he struggled against the overwhelming pain.

Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the room, but Malefica remained unmoved, her expression as cold and unyielding as stone.

"What are you doing to him?" Alicarde asked, watching the scene with a mixture of curiosity and unease.

"It's called soul search," Malefica replied, her voice flat, as if the man's suffering was nothing more than a mundane task.

"I can directly extract the information we need from his mind. I'm trying my best to be delicate, not to destroy his mind completely." Her fingers tightened their grip on his forehead, the glow of her magic intensifying.

Alicarde nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You are one scary woman," he muttered, half in awe, half in dread.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Malefica responded sternly, not even a hint of humor in her voice.