The Heavenly Demon of Terror

Roselle's POV

The wind outside howled softly through the open balcony, but the room remained untouched—silent, warm, and dark like my thoughts.

Abigail's scent still lingered faintly in the air, perfume and pride mixing together like the final notes of a tragic song. I let it fade slowly as I stood in the center of my private training chamber, the dim light casting dancing shadows across the crimson-carved floor.

I rolled my shoulders, sighing as I removed my heels, letting the cold marble kiss the soles of my feet.

"Enough politics for one day," I muttered. "Time to let the darkness stretch."

With a thought, the magic stirred within me—a slow, coiling pulse of shadow gathering beneath my skin. My fingertips darkened, laced in smoke-like energy as the Goddess of Darkness within me unfurled like a sleeping beast disturbed from slumber.

"Midnight Serpents."

I whispered the words, and the shadows around me responded. From the corners of the room, wisps of black slithered into shape—coiling, snapping serpents of pure void dancing around my arms.

They hissed playfully, but I could feel their hunger. Their need to lash out.

I raised a hand toward the far wall and flicked a finger.

The shadows lashed like whips—splitting the reinforced steel wall with a thunderous crack.