Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 132

Chapter 132: Imprisoned
Khaterine collapsed onto the cold stone floor, her breath coming in short gasps. Darkness swallowed her whole.

She clawed at her face, her fingers trembling as she tried to blink and see, but there was nothing, only emptiness. Panic gripped her chest like an iron vice.

“No… No!” Her voice echoed in the vast chamber, filled with nothing but her suffering.

She could hear the slow, deliberate steps of Zephyrion approaching. He had taken it all. The power, the sight, the fleeting sense of control she had once held in her fragile hands.

Now, she was nothing but a prisoner in his domain.

“Is this how you truly are without my gift?” Zephyrion’s voice was laced with amusement, but there was an underlying sharpness that sent shivers down her spine.

Khaterine clenched her fists. She would not break. Not yet.

She attempted to stand, her legs unsteady beneath her.

Her senses were heightened in ways that terrified her, she could hear the distant drip of water from the dungeon ceiling, smell the dampness of the cell, and feel the shift of air as Zephyrion moved.

The darkness was suffocating, and yet, she refused to let it consume her.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. “Why take it all back?”

Zephyrion chuckled. “Did you truly think I would give you power without a price? You are amusing, Khaterine. You should be grateful I even lent it to you.”

She wanted to spit back a retort, but the pain in her body was unbearable.

The Exeistalynthe was still raging within her, making her feel as if her very soul was being torn apart from the inside.

Her skin burned, and a feverish chill made her body tremble uncontrollably. The pain felt eternal, an endless cycle of torment, worsening with each passing second.

She crawled backward, her fingers scraping against the stone. She needed to escape, but she didn’t even know where the walls were, didn’t know where to run.

She had never felt so powerless before.

Tears welled in her unseeing eyes, but she forced them back. She would not let Zephyrion see her cry.

“You will stay here until you understand,” Zephyrion murmured, his voice soft but deadly.

“Understand what?” she bit out, barely able to keep her voice steady.

“That no matter how much you long for the past, it no longer exists. The love you cling to is an illusion. Richmond is gone. And even if he were alive, he would never choose you now.”

His words cut deeper than any blade.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, her blind eyes staring into nothingness.

“Yes,” Zephyrion said, his voice echoing in her prison. “You are mine, Khaterine. The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be for you.”

With that, his presence disappeared, and she was left alone in the suffocating darkness.

Khaterine did not know how much time had passed. Days, weeks? There was no way to tell in this endless abyss.

She had no food, only a cup of water that would replenish itself once a day. She had no way to clean herself, no way to know whether it was day or night.

She barely even knew if she was still alive.

But the worst part was the silence.

At first, she screamed.

She yelled for help, she cursed Zephyrion, and she called Richmond’s name until her voice broke.

No one came.

She wept silently in the darkness, hugging herself as the Exeistalynthe consumed her once again.

Every full moon, it would strike, leaving her in unbearable agony, and she could do nothing but endure it.

She lost count of how many times she had passed out from the pain, only to wake up in the same darkness, with no relief, no comfort.

She felt herself slipping. At first, she imagined Richmond’s voice, telling her to hold on, to wait for him.

Then, she started hearing Zephyrion. He whispered in her mind, taunting her, telling her that she would never be saved.

Eventually, she didn’t know which voice was real anymore. Her world was becoming a void, and she was drowning in it.

Then, one day, something changed. A warm sensation, faint but undeniable, spread through her fingers. It was different from Zephyrion’s suffocating presence.

Someone was there.

She gasped, scrambling to her feet.

“Who’s there?” she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.

A hand touched her shoulder, firm but gentle. The warmth of it sent a shock through her body.

“You’re still alive,” a voice murmured.

Khaterine’s breath hitched. That voice. She knew it. But it was impossible.

“Richmond?” she choked out, her blind eyes filling with tears.

There was silence. Then, the hand pulled away.

“I am sorry,” the voice said, barely above a whisper.

Then the warmth was gone. Khaterine dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

Had she imagined it? Or had Richmond truly come… only to leave her behind?

Khaterine curled into herself, her fingers gripping the tattered fabric of her dress.

She trembled, not from cold but from the emptiness gnawing at her soul. If this was reality, she no longer wanted it.

She closed her eyes, not that it mattered, and let her mind drift.

In the depths of her suffering, she found solace in the only place that had ever brought her peace, her past.

She imagined the warmth of the sun as it streamed through the grand windows of the duchy.

The scent of roses from the garden mingled with the faint aroma of parchment and ink. The sound of Richmond’s laughter, deep and rich, as he pulled her into his arms.

She could see it all so clearly.

The grand ballroom, filled with dazzling lights and soft music, where she danced with him beneath a chandelier of golden stars.

His strong arms were around her waist, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered words only meant for her.

She imagined their mornings together. Waking up to find him already dressed, his sword resting against the bedside table, a smirk on his lips as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

The way he would tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering as if memorizing her.

“Khaterine,” his voice echoed in her mind, filled with warmth, with love.

She reached for him, for the illusion she had built, but it flickered like a dying candle.

And then it was gone.

The warmth, the light, the love, gone.

She was alone again.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she whispered, “I want to go back.”