Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 129

Chapter 129: Exeistalynthe
Khaterine sat in the grand chamber of Zephyrion’s dark citadel, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The full moon loomed outside, its pale glow piercing through the enchanted stained-glass windows.

The moment its silver rays touched her skin, an unbearable agony surged through her.

A searing pain clawed at her bones, as if her very essence were unraveling, her veins filled with ice and fire all at once.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. She clutched her chest, feeling as though her heart were being crushed within an invisible grip.

The sensation was beyond pain, it was destruction, the slow and merciless tearing apart of her soul.

The maids of the citadel had long learned to avoid her chambers on full moons. Even Zephyrion himself did not intervene, knowing that nothing could ease her torment.

Her body convulsed, her fingers digging into the cold obsidian floor as her vision blurred into darkness.

This was Exeistalynthe.

A curse as ancient as time itself.

It was said to be the burden of those who had awakened forbidden powers, a punishment for those who had forsaken their original fate and walked a path beyond destiny’s design.

The affliction came with every full moon, stripping away one’s strength, consuming them in relentless suffering, and leaving them in a state between life and death.

No spell, no elixir, no divine intervention could suppress its torment.

But there was one myth.

A single, tragic legend whispered among the lost histories of the Andromeda Galaxy.

Only true love could cure Exeistalynthe.

But not just any love, a love that transcended mortality, a love profound enough to defy the heavens.

The curse could only be lifted if one’s true love stood beneath the full moon and professed their love, swearing upon the stars that they would die in the afflicted’s place.

Only then would the curse be broken, transferring the pain and suffering onto the one who spoke the vow.

No one had ever dared.

For who would trade their life for another’s suffering?

Khaterine’s lips twisted into a bitter smile as she curled into herself, her body drenched in cold sweat.

She could feel every nerve in her body screaming, her muscles tightening to the point of tearing, her bones aching as if they would shatter with the next breath.

The pain was endless, like drowning in an ocean of suffering without the mercy of death.

Was this her punishment for abandoning the original story? For stepping beyond her fate and choosing power over love?

Her mind wandered to Richmond. The fool who once fought for her. The man who had looked at her with such earnest determination. The one who would have died for her once.

Would he have sworn to the moon for her?

No. Not now. Not after what she had done.

A dark chuckle escaped her lips, turning into a choked gasp as another wave of agony wracked her body.

Love was a cruel joke.

She had embraced power, choosing to carve her own path, and now she was suffering the consequences.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. She would not beg for salvation. She had made her choice.

A soft wind stirred through the chamber, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers. The eerie silence of the citadel made her suffering feel even more isolating.

The stars twinkled mockingly above, indifferent to her torment.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Even if the pain killed her, even if she was reduced to nothing more than a hollow shell every full moon, she would endure.

She was not the weak girl from before.

She was Khaterine, the one who had defied fate.

And fate would have to try harder if it wanted to break her.

Khaterine lay on the cold floor, her body wracked with pain, but her mind drifted elsewhere. Somewhere softer. Somewhere warmer.

She thought of her past life, the one where she was not consumed by curses and darkness, but instead wrapped in love and warmth.

She had been a duchess then, living in a grand estate where sunlight spilled through crystal windows, and fragrant roses bloomed in endless gardens.

The sound of laughter had filled the halls, her own voice among them, lighter, freer. Back then, she had been truly happy.

Richmond had been her husband. Her duke.

She could still remember how he looked at her, as if she were his entire world. His purple eyes were always filled with something tender, something unshakable.

He had always held her close, whispering promises that he would protect her, that he would always be by her side.

And he had. No matter the dangers, no matter the obstacles, Richmond had stood unwaveringly beside her.

She recalled the way he would wrap his arms around her waist when she least expected it, pressing a kiss against her temple as they walked through their manor’s corridors.

Or how he would pull her into his lap when she was reading, teasing her about paying more attention to books than him.

She had laughed, swatting at his arm, but the truth was, she had loved every moment of it.

She remembered the quiet mornings, waking up in his embrace, sunlight filtering through the curtains as he traced lazy circles on her back.

He would always wake before her, simply watching her, waiting for her eyes to flutter open.

“You always wake up first,” she had once murmured sleepily, pressing her face against his chest.

“So I can have more time to admire you,” he had whispered back, his fingers brushing through her hair.

He had spoiled her, giving her anything she desired. Whether it was jewelry, dresses, or exotic delicacies from across the stars, he had ensured she never wanted for anything.

But none of those things had mattered as much as the way he had looked at her. As if she was the only thing that truly existed in his universe.

Their nights had been filled with whispered confessions, stolen kisses beneath moonlit balconies, and the simple comfort of knowing they belonged to each other.

No threats, no wars, no tragedies, just them. Just love.

And then, one day, it had all been ripped away.

Khaterine’s vision blurred, though whether from pain or sorrow, she did not know.

She had once been cherished beyond reason, protected beyond measure. And now, she was alone, cursed, and forsaken.

Was it fate’s punishment for wanting more?

She let out a shaky breath.

She had made her choices. There was no turning back now.

But for just a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes and pretend, pretend that she was still the duchess, and Richmond was still her devoted duke, and that love had never been lost.