The Crown's Fire - Chapter 296

Chapter 296: Merlot’s Soul
“Damn it!” Merlot growled, his voice laced with frustration as he watched the green dragon solidify into a statue. “What a waste of a celestial creature giving its energy to a mere human.”

“They’ll become stronger because of it,” Floria muttered, standing beside him at a distance from the ritual site. Though they weren’t participants, they had witnessed the entire event unfold. Her gaze flickered toward the dragon statue, her expression unreadable. “We only have the black dragon with us.”

Merlot’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “It doesn’t matter. Once we have Katelina, everything will fall into place. Prepare what you need for the Mooncake Festival, and ensure there are no loopholes this time!” His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Floria opened her mouth, ready to voice her thoughts, but she was interrupted by the approach of Merlot’s page boy.

“My Lord, the carriage is ready,” the boy announced, bowing slightly.

Merlot gave Floria a knowing nod before turning on his heel and leaving without another word. His steps were measured, his demeanor cold and resolute.

Floria stood rooted to the spot, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t like how their plans had shifted. Initially, the goal had been to swap her soul with Katelina’s body, but now Merlot had veered in an entirely different direction. He was concocting a potion and preparing a ritual to wipe Katelina’s memory, intending to place her under his absolute control.

Something’s not right with him, she thought, unease gnawing at her mind. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she recalled the last time she had seen Devon attempt to wrest control from Merlot. Ever since that moment, something about Merlot had felt… off. It was as if…

‘Could it be… he’s no longer my master but Devon?’

The thought sent a chill down her spine, her face paling as she tried to suppress the growing suspicion. She couldn’t allow fear to cloud her judgment, but the possibility felt too real to ignore.

“Oh, there you are, Milord!”

Floria snapped, her voice sharp as her attention shifted to another mage approaching Merlot from a different path. She watched them intently, her unease deepening as the mage leaned in to speak with him in hushed tones.

Her instincts screamed at her that something was deeply wrong, but confronting Merlot, or Devon, if her fears were correct, was far more dangerous than she dared imagine.

“So, it seems two noblemen from the royal family have been spending quite a bit of time with you, Mage Floria,” teased the woman beside her, a healer maid assigned to the former King and Queen.

Her tone was light, but her words were laced with curiosity. “I bet they’re both asking for your hand in marriage. So, who’s it going to be? Lord Clay or Lord Greg?”

Floria sighed deeply, the weight of her thoughts making it difficult to humor such idle chatter. These people had no idea what was looming on the horizon.

“I understand if it’s a hard choice,” the healer maid continued, clearly unbothered by Floria’s lack of response. “But I’d say Lord Greg is the better pick by far. He’s the Minister of Defense, after all, and has full authority over military affairs. Plus, he’s serious and nonchalant, the strong, silent type. Unlike Lord Clay… we all know he’s a womanizer.”

Floria didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she simply nodded vaguely, prompting the mage to conclude the conversation with a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, Mage Floria,” the woman said, bowing politely before taking her leave.

As soon as the maid was gone, Floria’s composed expression cracked, and she quickened her pace. Her thoughts were racing as she made her way toward Merlot’s hidden sanctuary.

‘I have to confirm my suspicions,’ she thought grimly. ‘If he’s no longer Merlot but Devon, then I can’t follow him anymore… I’ll have to find a way to bring my master back. But…’

Floria’s knees wobbled, and she had to steady herself against a nearby wall. Her palm pressed against the cold stone as she fought to calm her spiraling panic. If Devon had truly taken over, the implications were dire.

For Devon to fully control Merlot’s body, he would have had to devour Merlot’s soul completely. That was the only way such a possession could be absolute.

“No…” Floria gasped, her body trembling at the thought. Her mind screamed in denial, but the signs were there, unmistakable and terrifying.

She pushed herself upright, shaking off the fear that threatened to paralyze her. This wasn’t the time to falter. Drawing in a steadying breath, she straightened her posture and moved forward with long, determined strides.

Once she reached their safe spot within the royal estate, protected by a powerful illusion that concealed her and Merlot’s arrivals and departures, Floria chanted a spell to open a portal.

Floria stepped through the portal, her heart pounding in her chest. The arcane shimmer of the portal’s energy dissipated as she emerged into the familiar gloom of Merlot’s secret haven.

The chamber was cold and unwelcoming, lined with dark stone and dimly lit by eerie blue flames hovering in sconces along the walls. At the center of the room, her eyes immediately fell upon the object that always stole her breath, her own body, preserved in pristine stillness within a massive block of crystal.

Her blonde hair, once a source of scorn, seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, a cruel reminder of her fragmented existence.

Floria approached the crystal, her fingers hovering just above its smooth, frozen surface.

‘How long has it been since I felt like myself? Since this body was mine?’ she thought bitterly.

The life she led now, bound to a vessel not her own, was a far cry from the one she’d once dreamed of. She clenched her fists, resolving herself for what was to come.

Minutes turned into an agonizing eternity as she waited for Merlot. When the heavy thud of boots echoed through the chamber, her heart sank. She turned slowly to see him enter, his presence commanding as always, but something about his gait seemed… wrong.

He walked with a confidence that didn’t feel like Merlot’s usual restrained composure. It was unnerving, and her suspicions grew stronger.

“Floria,” Merlot greeted, his voice smooth, yet there was a subtle edge to it. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy.”

She forced a small smile, masking her anxiety. “I’ve been preparing for the mooncake festival, as you ordered.”