As Tharros turned to leave, his obsidian cloak trailing behind him like a living shadow, a voice slithered through the throne hall—soothing, sickly sweet, and laced with amusement.
"Where do you think you're going, Tharros? Already leaving when the fun has just started..."
The voice sent an eerie chill across the room.
It was her.
Everyone—Mia, Lilith, and even the stoic Tharros—turned their eyes to the source.
There, still on the floor, lay the beheaded body of Xylara. Her blood had pooled around her, her head lying a few feet away—eyes half-lidded, a serene smile playing on her lips.
And yet, the voice echoed again.
"Tsk. You really thought a clean cut like that would be enough to silence me?You've really underestimated me..."
From the pool of blood, her body twitched. The air shimmered as reality bent around her form. Then, like fog dissipating in the morning sun, the illusion faded—revealing not one Xylara, but three.
Each identical in appearance: moonlight silver hair, glowing violet eyes, and that same unhinged grin.
"Welcome to the Mirage of Endless Night," the three said in unison, their voices laced with madness.
One Xylara skipped toward Lilith, her movements playful and sensual, like a cat about to play with its prey.
Another stood behind Mia, her hand hovering close to the Beastkin Queen's back, whispering things only Mia could hear.
The third? She stepped forward, blade drawn, facing Tharros directly—her eyes burning with challenge.
Tharros's crimson gaze narrowed. "Illusions."
"No, no, no," Xylara cooed. "Experiences. Each of these fragments is real enough to bleed. And the pain? Very real."
She tilted her head, speaking through all her forms at once, voice echoing through the minds of everyone present.
"Let's start with Mia, shall we?"
Behind the broken woman, the second Xylara whispered, her voice like silk soaked in venom.
"Feel it, Mia. That hatred. That agony. That raw, primal scream clawing inside you. Let it grow, let it boil over. He took everything from you—your love, your hope."
A violet sigil bloomed beneath Mia as the Empress of Emotion stirred. The pain, the grief—Xylara redirected it, shaped it like molten steel, all to serve him. Her master. Lycius.
Mia's aura pulsed violently. Her golden fur bristled as her eyes lit with a crimson fury. No longer the broken queen sobbing over a severed head, she stood—renewed, yet twisted.
A perfect tool of vengeance.
Xylara giggled, turning to Lilith now, licking her lips.
"And you, little vampire doll," she purred. "You're just adorable."
Chains of illusion formed once more, coiling around Lilith's limbs. Not to restrain—no, not this time.
To seduce.
With every heartbeat, the chains whispered honeyed lies and heated truths. He doesn't love you. You are only his tool. Come to me. I will make you feel adored.
Lilith trembled, her cheeks flushed, her mind slipping into dangerous waters. Her blood magic sparked, erratic, as desire clashed with confusion.
"You want warmth, don't you, Lilith?" Xylara whispered, trailing a finger down her cheek. "I could be your older sister, a sister who will praise your beauty... who will never abandon you."
Then came the screech of steel.
The third Xylara lunged at Tharros, blades dancing like shadows in flame. He deflected with swift precision, but the illusions made it nearly impossible to predict her real form.
Slash.
Parry.
Another Xylara appeared beside him, laughing as she drove a phantom blade into his side—only for it to pass through harmlessly.
"Tick-tock, Vampire Lord," she sang. "How long until you crack?"
Tharros growled, blood magic erupting from his body in a crimson wave. His sword cleaved through two illusions at once, dispersing them into violet smoke.
But the original was gone.
Above.
Xylara descended like a falling star, her blade coated in illusion-forged venom, her laughter rising in madness.
He blocked just in time—but the force sent him skidding back.
"You're annoying," he spat.
"And you're cold," she grinned. "No wonder your daughter prefers my attention."
Tharros raised a hand, blood sigils swirling around him. The room began to darken, his presence consuming the light.
But Xylara's illusions danced in and out of reality, teasing him, slicing at the edges of his control.
Meanwhile, Mia stood frozen, aura boiling with dark power.
Lilith gasped, her breathing erratic, caught between horror and arousal, her ruby eyes swirling with conflicted emotion.
This was no longer a battle.
It was a symphony of chaos.
And Xylara was the conductor.
All for her Beloved Master.
All for Lycius.
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