Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 156

Chapter 156: The Ruins
Aryndale and Azedreo stepped out of their ship, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground of Agartha.

The planet was nothing like they remembered. Once a beacon of civilization, a world of golden spires and endless knowledge, it had been reduced to a wasteland of ice and fire.

The skies above swirled with unnatural storm clouds, flashes of violet lightning cracking through the atmosphere.

In the distance, jagged mountains rose like the broken bones of a dying god, their peaks consumed by frost and shadow.

The once-great city of Elarion was in ruins.

Half of it lay buried beneath thick glaciers, its towering structures entombed in crystalline ice, while the other half smoldered under the corruption of dark matter.

The air itself was unstable, shifting between bitter cold and searing heat, as though reality was fraying at the edges.

Azedreo exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the freezing air. “We were too late.” His voice was quiet, but Aryndale knew him well enough to hear the tightly controlled rage beneath it.

Aryndale adjusted the reinforced cloak draped over his shoulders, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade.

“No,” he said firmly. “As long as we don’t see her body, she’s alive.”

The two of them had come here with one purpose, to find their sister. She had been on Agartha when the collapse began, when the planet was swallowed by chaos.

No messages had come through since, no trace of her fate.

The last transmission they had intercepted spoke of a desperate escape, of reaching the Academy of the Infinite Gaze before the worst of the devastation struck.

If she had survived, that was where she would be.

The academy had once stood as a fortress of knowledge, its scholars dedicated to studying the cosmic forces that shaped the universe.

Now, all that remained of it was a frozen graveyard. The towering obsidian gates were shattered, their intricate engravings lost beneath layers of ice.

The grand halls, where thousands had once walked, were buried beneath snowdrifts. Columns that had once held up knowledge now held only the weight of their own collapse.

Aryndale led the way, his boots sinking into the snow as he pushed forward. Azedreo followed, his sharp golden eyes scanning every shadow, every jagged edge of the ruins.

The wind howled through the broken archways, carrying with it distant echoes, whispers that were not entirely natural.

Something still lived here.

They moved cautiously, stepping over frozen bodies encased in shimmering ice.

Students, scholars, warriors, all caught in their final moments, their expressions locked in fear or defiance. The sight of them sent a chill deeper than the cold ever could.

Azedreo knelt beside one of the frozen corpses, pressing his fingers against the ice.

A flicker of power surged through his veins, his connection to the arcane allowing him to glimpse into the echoes of the past.

His vision blurred, the air shimmering as whispers filled his ears.

Run. The storm is coming. The gate is closing…

Then, silence. Azedreo pulled his hand away, his jaw tightening. “They were trying to escape. Something stopped them.”

Aryndale looked toward the heart of the academy, where the Celestial Vault should have been.

It was a place meant to withstand any catastrophe, an archive of ancient knowledge and powerful relics. If their sister had sought shelter anywhere, it would be there.

Without a word, they pressed forward.

As they reached the inner sanctum, the temperature dropped even further. The frost thickened, covering the walls in jagged formations of ice, glistening like glass.

At the heart of the ruin stood the Celestial Vault, its entrance barely recognizable beneath the frozen decay.

Azedreo reached for his sword, its blade pulsing with latent energy. “We need to break through.”

Aryndale placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” He could feel it now, a presence beyond the ice, something waiting, something watching.

Then, the ice cracked.

A low, resonant hum filled the air as fractures spread across the frozen walls. A moment later, the ice exploded outward in a violent burst, sending shards flying through the air.

Aryndale raised his arm to shield himself as a blinding wave of light surged from within the vault. And then he saw her.

At the center of the vault, encased within the last remnants of the ice, she stood.

Their sister.

But she was not the same. Her once-vibrant eyes were distant, her skin paler than he remembered. Energy crackled around her, weaving through her veins like golden lightning.

She looked at them as if she barely recognized them, as if she had been somewhere far beyond their reach for far too long.

“Ahcehera” Aryndale whispered, his heart pounding.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Only a single tear rolled down her cheek before she collapsed, the energy flickering around her like dying embers.

Azedreo caught her before she hit the ground, his expression a mixture of relief and fear. “She’s alive,” he said, his voice firm. “But something is wrong.”

Aryndale could feel it too. The power clinging to her wasn’t entirely her own. It was something else. Something vast. Something ancient.

And the moment they had freed her, the balance had shifted. A distant roar echoed through the ruins. Something had awoken. The battle for Agartha was far from over.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, a slow, deliberate quake that sent cracks spiderwebbing through the frozen floor.

The roar had not been a mere echo of the past, it was a presence, vast and hungry, stirring in the depths of the ruined academy.

Aryndale and Azedreo exchanged a glance, wordless understanding passing between them.

Azedreo tightened his grip on Ahcehera, his golden eyes flickering with resolve. “We need to get her out of here. Now.”

Before Aryndale could respond, the ice along the walls began to shift, moving like something alive.

Shadows pooled in the corners, twisting and stretching unnaturally, taking on grotesque, half-formed shapes. They were not alone.

A pair of glowing white eyes emerged from the darkness, followed by a whispering voice that slithered through the frigid air. “She was never meant to leave.”

Aryndale’s blade was already in his hand, the steel humming with latent power. He stepped in front of his siblings, his stance unwavering. “Then come take her back.”

The shadows lunged.

Aryndale met them with fire and steel. Azedreo held Ahcehera close, whispering a spell of protection as he prepared for the fight that would decide all their fates.