Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 229

Chapter 229: Consumed by Darkness
The sky above the domain was cloaked in thick, unmoving clouds, casting the entire realm in a perpetual dusk. The shadows stretched far across the halls of obsidian stone as a stillness heavier than silence settled over the fortress.

Richmond stood on the balcony of the inner chamber, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the flickers of dying sun bleeding faintly through the gloom. It had been hours since his brother, Rohzivaan, had summoned their mother, Fiorensia, to speak in private.

But even now, after the doors had opened again and their mother had emerged with a face carved in unshakable calm, Richmond’s mind refused to accept what he had heard. Rohzivaan wanted his bond severed. He wanted the sacred connection between him and his fated mate, Ahcehera, broken, shattered as if it were nothing more than glass beneath a boot.

Richmond paced the cold stone floor, his claws twitching with agitation. The very idea was unthinkable. Fated mates were rare, bound by celestial law and ancient magic that stretched across time and soul. To sever such a link was not only dangerous, it was practically a declaration of spiritual death.

“He’s lost his mind,” Richmond whispered under his breath. “Or worse… something’s taken it from him.”

When he confronted his brother earlier that day, Rohzivaan had not looked like himself. His purple eyes, once burning with wild conviction and unshakable will, had become distant, almost vacant. His voice, always thunderous and proud, was quiet, numb.

It was as if the darkness within him had grown teeth and begun devouring him from the inside. Richmond had demanded answers, had shaken him and growled and shouted, but Rohzivaan had simply said, “This bond is a weakness. I need it gone.”

There was no room for argument, no flicker of regret. The command was final. And so, with the same cold detachment, their mother agreed. Fiorensia, demon goddess of the lower dominions and mother of kings, had lived long enough to witness, and perform, acts most would consider heretical. Breaking a werewolf mate bond was no simple matter.

It wasn’t a cut or a severing of ties. It was the disintegration of two fates that were once woven together. Pain was inevitable. Madness was possible. Death was not unheard of. Yet Fiorensia moved through the preparations with a terrifying speed.

In her private sanctum, she summoned her old spellbooks, tomes bound in shadows and parchment made of bark from trees that grew in cursed dimensions. She drew ancient sigils on the black stone floor using powdered obsidian mixed with her blood.

Incense from the ashen fields of Velmora burned with curling smoke that whispered secrets to those brave enough to listen. Richmond stood to the side, arms clenched so tight his claws dug into his palms.

“You’re really going to do this,” he said, voice tight with disbelief. “Without even asking why?”

Fiorensia didn’t pause her incantations. “I did ask why,” she said, voice smooth as flowing water. “He said the bond was making him vulnerable. That it clouded his judgment.”

“That’s not a reason. That’s a lie he’s convinced himself of.”

Fiorensia’s eyes, ageless and violet like the depths of a dying star, finally met his. “You’ve always looked at Rohzivaan like he’s still your baby brother. But he is a demon god now. A warborn alpha of realms we cannot even begin to understand. If he says this bond must end, then we do not question him. We obey.”

Richmond stepped closer, fury tightening every muscle in his body. “But I am questioning him. I am questioning you. Do you not remember what he was before Ahcehera? He was drowning. And she pulled him back from it.”

“And yet here he stands again, drowning still,” Fiorensia said coldly. “Perhaps she failed to save him after all.”

Richmond stared at his mother in disbelief, his heart pounding with helplessness. He turned toward the far end of the ritual chamber, where Rohzivaan now stood within the circle of ancient runes. He had stripped his armor and wore only the ceremonial black cloth wrapped around his waist.

His body was covered in scars, some recent, some from the past, but his expression was blank. He looked less like a brother and more like a statue carved from grief.

“You don’t have to do this,” Richmond growled. “You’re not yourself.”

Rohzivaan didn’t look at him. “I’m more myself than I’ve ever been.”

“Then where is your rage?” Richmond shouted. “Where is your loyalty? Your love?”

“Gone,” Rohzivaan said. “That’s why I need this. I cannot serve fate with chains around my heart.”

Fiorensia stepped forward, lifting her hands, her fingers glowing with swirling, dark light. The runes began to hum with a low resonance, and the air thickened with power. “It is time,” she said.

Rohzivaan knelt, his head bowed. Fiorensia’s voice rose, speaking in a forgotten tongue, a language of demons and old gods. The runes flared, and the circle glowed with crimson fire.

Richmond watched in horror as the bond that once shimmered between Rohzivaan and Ahcehera, invisible but ever-present, began to unravel. It started as a shimmer of gold, like strands of silk being pulled from the heart. Then, slowly, the glow dimmed, darkened, and began to tear.

Rohzivaan clenched his fists, his breathing ragged. Blood leaked from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. His back arched, and a roar of pain broke from his throat. Fiorensia did not flinch. She chanted louder, faster. The room shuddered.

A crack ran through the floor beneath Rohzivaan. Richmond could feel the bond, too, something he was never meant to touch, tearing like sinew in the void. He stumbled backward, clutching his chest. His brother’s agony echoed in his soul. Then, it was done. The light vanished.

The circle dimmed. Rohzivaan collapsed to the ground, gasping, sweat and blood staining the floor. The bond was gone. Fiorensia stepped back, visibly weakened but still composed. She wiped the blood from her lips and looked down at her son with something unreadable in her gaze.

Richmond rushed forward and knelt beside Rohzivaan, who was now curled into himself, shivering. “What have you done to yourself?” Richmond whispered.

Rohzivaan opened his eyes. But they were not purple anymore. They were black, deep, endless, and void of all emotion.

“What I had to,” he said.

Richmond turned to Fiorensia, fury returning. “You let this happen.”

“No,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I only guided it. The choice was his.”

Silence fell once more. The chamber seemed to hold its breath, the echoes of the ritual still lingering in the corners like ghosts. Richmond stood and looked back at his brother, who now stared blankly at the ceiling.

There was no relief in his face. No peace. Only emptiness. Richmond knew that the Rohzivaan he once knew, once loved, was gone. Consumed by the very darkness he once fought so hard to resist. And this time, there was no light to save him.