Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 219

Chapter 219: The Goddess of Revenge (9)
Ricardo’s body ached with every breath he took. The cold iron chains around his wrists and ankles felt heavier, day by day. The damp, dark cell reeked of dried blood and decay, and his once-proud stature had been reduced to nothing, a pitiful shell of a man.

He had endured countless nights of torment, his mind unable to rest as nightmares plagued him, visions of his failures, his betrayals, and the ghost of the woman he had forsaken. And yet, nothing compared to the sheer terror he felt when the doors to the dungeon creaked open once more.

She had come again. Fiorensia stepped into the chamber, her presence suffocating. Dressed in flowing black robes embroidered with crimson sigils, she looked like a goddess of vengeance, a being far beyond the woman he had once called his wife.

Her crimson eyes bore into him, filled with neither rage nor hatred, just an unnerving calm that made his skin crawl. Lotisia was chained a few feet away from him, her once-lustrous hair now dull and tangled, her body trembling with fear.

She had lost all semblance of the noblewoman she once pretended to be. No jewelry adorned her neck, fine silks graced her skin, only tattered rags and bruises remained.

Fiorensia stopped before them, her hands clasped behind her back. She tilted her head slightly, as if observing insects squirming under her gaze.

“You look well,” she finally said, her voice smooth as silk but cold as the void.

Ricardo swallowed, his throat dry and raw. He knew better than to speak. He had learned that his words meant nothing in the presence of the woman who had orchestrated his downfall. And despite everything, he could only feel powerless.

Lotisia, however, still had the audacity to plead. “Please… Fiorensia, whatever hatred you have for me, for us, you’ve already won. You destroyed everything. The Mors Dukedom is gone. What more do you want?”

Fiorensia crouched before her, brushing a gloved hand against Lotisia’s cheek with mock gentleness. The contact made the other woman flinch violently.

“What do I want?” Fiorensia repeated, amusement flickering in her crimson eyes. “Ah, Lotisia, you still think this is about hatred. You misunderstand me.” She leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about justice.”

Lotisia sobbed, her body shaking violently.

Ricardo clenched his fists. “Justice?” His voice was hoarse, filled with exhaustion. “You call this justice? You cursed my bloodline, you ruined everything I built!”

Fiorensia straightened, her expression unreadable. “You built nothing, Ricardo. Everything you had was given to you. The title, the wealth, the loyalty of your people, you squandered it all. You betrayed the only person who could have made you great.”

“Liar!”

“You were a fool to think power was yours by right when you were nothing more than a puppet on a throne I allowed you to sit upon.”

Ricardo’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling with anger and despair. “You… you used me.”

Fiorensia smiled, but it was void of warmth. “Did I? Or did you simply never understand the game we were playing?” He had no response to that. She turned back to Lotisia, who was now curled into herself, eyes wild with fear.

“Your punishment has already begun,” Fiorensia murmured. “Do you feel it, Lotisia? The curse that seeps into your blood? It will never end. Your daughters will bear no sons. Your lineage will wither, and the Mors name will fade from history as a cautionary tale. Nothing more.”

Lotisia gasped, her nails digging into the cold stone beneath her as her body convulsed in horror. But she didn’t know her daughters were gone. “Why?” she whimpered. “Why did you do this to me?”

Fiorensia’s expression finally darkened, her calm mask slipping just slightly. “You took what was mine. My children, my name, my place.” Her voice was sharp now, like a blade slicing through the thick air. “But you were never meant to have any of it.”

Lotisia screamed, shaking her head violently, but Fiorensia did not stop there. She reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small vial. Inside, a thick, viscous black liquid could be seen.

Ricardo’s eyes widened. “What… what is that?”

Fiorensia held it up, watching as the substance shimmered. “This,” she said smoothly, “is a gift. A way to atone for your sins. Drink it, and I may consider easing your suffering.”

Lotisia stared at the vial as if it held her salvation, but Ricardo knew better.

“You expect us to believe you?” he spat, though there was no strength left in his defiance.

Fiorensia chuckled softly. “Believe? No, Ricardo, I expect you to decide. Die slowly in agony, or take the chance that this might be your only mercy.”

Lotisia reached out, desperation clear in her expression. “I’ll take it! I’ll take it!”

Ricardo turned away, shame burning through him as Lotisia lunged for the vial like a starving animal. He didn’t want to watch. He didn’t want to see what she had become, what they had both been reduced to.

But the moment Lotisia swallowed the black liquid, a horrific scream tore from her throat. Her body twisted violently, her veins turning black as they bulged against her pale skin. She thrashed, eyes rolling back as her fingers clawed at her throat, choking on something unseen.

Ricardo watched in horror. “What have you done to her?”

Fiorensia merely watched, her expression impassive. “She wished for mercy. I granted her an end free of prolonged suffering. She will not live to see another sunrise.”

Lotisia’s screams grew weaker, her body convulsing one final time before she collapsed against the stone floor. Her eyes, once filled with arrogance and cruelty, now stared blankly into the abyss.

Dead.

Ricardo’s breath came in shallow gasps as the weight of it all crashed down on him. The woman he had chosen over Fiorensia, the woman he had ruined his family for, lay lifeless beside him. And yet, despite everything, he felt no sorrow.

Only fear.

Fiorensia turned her gaze back to him. “You,” she murmured, “I will not grant such kindness.”

Ricardo’s body trembled violently as Fiorensia stepped closer, shadows curling around her feet.

“I will make sure you feel every ounce of pain I endured,” she whispered, her crimson eyes glowing with unholy fire. “You will know what it is to be powerless, stripped of everything you once held dear. And when you beg for death, Ricardo, I will deny you.”

The air grew thick, suffocating. Ricardo’s throat tightened as unseen hands wrapped around him, pulling him into the depths of darkness that Fiorensia commanded. And for the first time in his life, Ricardo Mors, once the Duke of the North, knew true terror.