Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 217

Chapter 217: The Goddess of Revenge (7)
Ahcehera couldn’t stop searching for answers. The more she uncovered about Duchess Fiorensia, the more questions arose, each leading her deeper into the complicated history of the Mors Dukedom. The old woman’s words haunted her.

Duchess Fiorensia had not simply vanished, she had left with a purpose. But what purpose? Why had she abandoned the place she had built? And why had her name been erased from history? She sought out more elders, more survivors from the era before the fall of the Mors clan.

Some were reluctant to speak, others too afraid to remember, but eventually, she found an old knight, one of the last who had served directly under the former Duke Ricardo Mors. He was blind now, his once-strong frame hunched with age, but his mind was sharp, his voice steady.

“Duchess Fiorensia was no ordinary woman,” he said when Ahcehera asked about her. “The moment she married into the Mors clan, she became its heart. And yet, she was always… otherworldly. There was something about her that made even the strongest men wary.”

Ahcehera’s pulse quickened. “Otherworldly?”

The knight nodded. “Her power was unmatched. She carried herself like a queen, and when she spoke, people listened. She was not just a duchess, she was something more. And when she bore the duke’s children, that power passed to them.”

“Children?” Ahcehera stilled. Was he referring to Riezekiel and Richmond? Were they not born from Duchess Lotisia?

“The firstborn were twins,” the knight continued. “Two strong boys, white-haired and noble, the perfect heirs to the Mors lineage. But it was the third son, her youngest, that was different. There was something about him. He was… darker.”

Ahcehera’s breath caught in her throat. How could the twins be white haired? I’ve been with them through childhood, and they were always black haired!

“Dark how?” she pressed. So… Rohzivaan was also borne by the former Duchess!

The knight hesitated before speaking again.

“Not in his appearance, no. He looked as noble as any Mors child. But his presence… it was as if shadows followed him. The duke and duchess kept it hidden, but those of us who were close knew. The boy was special. Cursed or blessed, I do not know. But he was not like the others.”

Ahcehera’s mind reeled. The former Duchess bore a boy different from his brothers. A boy shrouded in darkness. A boy who grew up to be Rohzivaan! It made sense now, the dark aura he carried, the way he absorbed the dark core so effortlessly.

She had thought it was a coincidence, a simple reaction to their battle. But it wasn’t. He had been born this way. She clenched her fists. Her mate, her sworn partner, was part demon. The realization left her breathless.

My mate was born with demonic roots!

She recalled all the moments they had spent together, the strange way he sometimes acted, the flickers of something deeper beneath his surface. She had ignored it before, like it was his personality or his training that influenced him. But now she understood.

Rohzivaan had been hiding his true nature all along. And worse, perhaps he didn’t even know the full extent of it himself. Ahcehera forced herself to stay calm. She couldn’t let this change things. He was still her mate.

The man she had fought beside, the one she had trusted with her life. And yet, a cold fear curled in her stomach. If he had demonic blood in his veins, then what did that mean for the future? What did it mean for their mission to stop the rise of the seven demon gods?

She needed more information. She couldn’t afford to let emotion cloud her judgment. Her search led her to ancient records buried deep in the remnants of the Mors archives.

Most official documents had been burned, but fragments remained, scraps of letters, forgotten ledgers, hidden notes left behind by those who had witnessed the truth. And in those records, she found what she was looking for.

Fiorensia had not married Ricardo Mors out of love. She had married him for his bloodline. The Mors clan carried a rare recessive gene, a gene for the black werewolf bloodline.

While most Mors were born with pure white fur, once in a generation, a child would be born with black fur, stronger and faster than any other. This recessive trait had been feared and misunderstood for centuries, and Fiorensia had sought it out.

Not because she wanted to strengthen the Mors clan. But because she wanted to use it for herself. Ahcehera read the words over and over again, her heart pounding. Fiorensia had been searching for something, an end to her immortality.

A way to make a demon mortal while retaining their power. And she had believed that the blood of a black werewolf could do it. Ahcehera’s head spun. Fiorensia had given birth to three sons. The first two had been white werewolves. But the third…

Rohzivaan. Had he inherited the black werewolf trait? Yes. Was that why he was different? Was that why Duchess Fiorensia loved him the most in his childhood years?

Ahcehera felt sick. She didn’t know what disturbed her more, the fact that Fiorensia had used her husband for an experiment or the possibility that Rohzivaan had been born for a purpose he didn’t even understand.

She needed to speak to him. She needed answers. But deep down, she was afraid. Afraid of what she might discover. And that the man she loved, the man she had sworn to stand beside, might not be the person she thought he was.

Ahcehera’s hands trembled as she closed the old records, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The room around her seemed smaller now, as if the walls were closing in, suffocating her with the weight of the truth.

She pressed a hand against her chest, forcing herself to calm down, but the revelations gnawed at the edges of her mind. Rohzivaan, her mate, the man she trusted, and the man she fought beside were not just different. He was created for something.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It didn’t change anything. He was still her mate. He was still the man who had stood by her side, fought for their mission, and sworn the same oath she had. But deep inside, a fear she had never known took root.

If Rohzivaan had demonic roots, then what did that mean for his future? Would he one day lose control? Would he fall into the same darkness they had sworn to fight? And worst of all, if that time came, would I be able to stop him?

Ahcehera swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened her back. No matter what, she had to find him. She had to look him in the eye and hear the truth from his own lips. Because if she didn’t, the doubts growing inside her would consume her whole.