With two Spirit Kings already bound to her soul, Vivianne had achieved more than what she once believed impossible. In her past life, she had heard the faint whispers of spirits countless times, voices calling to her from beyond, but no matter how desperately she reached for them, she could never grasp their power.
Her mind had been torn apart, her will shattered beyond healing. Back then, she could not even hold a bond with the weakest lesser spirit. But now things are different. Now Undine and Tempest themselves walked beside her, their power flowing through her as naturally as breath.
The road to the capital is long and heavy with unease. Dark clouds pressed low against the sky, casting the land in muted shades of gray. The fields on either side of the dirt road stretched wide but barren, broken only by patches of skeletal trees stripped bare by the season.
The silence around them is thick, almost suffocating, as if the earth itself is holding its breath. Every crunch of hooves against the hard soil echoed louder than it should have, stirring an edge of tension among the soldiers escorting the envoy.
Roxanne rode beside the carriage, her horse steady beneath her, its breath steaming in the cool air. She knew who awaited them: Lord Umbra, the one who now ruled the Black Covenant. Once, he had nearly ascended to the throne of the Demon King. But her father, Ashkareth, beat him completely, erasing his ambition for the throne.
That single loss had left Umbra poisoned by bitterness, his pride broken, and his hunger for power turned savage. In his desperation, he had clawed at forbidden things, ancient rituals carved into bone and blood, the kind of magic whispered only in nightmares.
It made him dangerous and powerful. But Roxanne knows better; Umbra isn’t as strong as people painted him to be. That alpha demon had lost once to her father, and if her father could defeat him, she could do so much better.
Her confidence isn’t bravado; she’s the strongest mixed blood alive on the continent. And now, she’s mated to someone who can control the spirit kings as easily as she breathes and thinks.
On her shoulder sat Tempest, the Spirit King of Wind, shrunken to his small form yet still radiating untamed energy. His expression still looked irritated, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, but Roxanne knew better.
The spirit king might scowl, but his very presence wrapped around the envoy like a storm cloud ready to break. And then there is Undine, the spirit King of Water, always lingering around Vivianne like a silverish blue bubble.
Vivianne’s connection to the spirits is unlike anything Roxanne had ever witnessed or read in any old or ancient book. As Marvessa had explained, her mana was vast, an ocean contained within a single soul.
The spirits adored her for it, drawn to her light as moths to a flame. Her mana heart, larger and brighter than any demon’s, pulsed with a rhythm the spirits could not resist. Her magic isn’t demon-born, but it rivaled their power all the same.
What makes it even more remarkable is how easily Vivianne moved with her spirits. She didn’t need to say anything or make a special gesture like Marvessa usually did.
Just a thought, a whisper of intent, and Undine would sweep through a chamber, purifying every trace of filth, or Tempest would stir the air, scattering the heavy scent of blood. Vivianne can make the bond with the spirit kings special, as if their souls were woven together into one song.
Knock. Knock.
The sound was faint but clear against the steady rhythm of hooves. Roxanne’s head turned sharply toward the carriage window. The glass shifted, and Vivianne’s beautiful face appeared, framed by loose strands of hair. Small lights fluttered around her, spirits, their forms darting like fireflies in the gloom.
Roxanne guided her horse closer, her voice firm but gentle. "Yes, Vivianne?"
Vivianne pushed the window open wider, her tone low and steady, though her eyes betrayed the shadow of unease. The spirits circled her faster, whispering frantically, tugging at her awareness.
"There are more than a hundred people ahead," she said, her voice carrying a quiet weight. "Not far. A few hours at most. One of them... carries something darker than the rest. A dark magic." She paused, glancing at the restless spirits before her gaze locked on Roxanne.
Her words lingered in the air as the spirits swirled anxiously around her, their restless glow flickering like fireflies in a storm. She hesitated for only a moment before fixing her gaze on Roxanne, her tone sharper, certain. "Hundred fifty one in total."
"Alright. Stay inside." Roxanne’s reply is firm, her hand tightening on the reins as she nodded once toward Undine.
At that signal, the Spirit Kings stirred. Undine’s presence flowed like a cool tide through the air, and in an instant, a shimmering barrier formed around the carriage, wrapping it in protection.
Vivianne drew the curtain closed, and the moment the light dimmed inside, Undine’s voice brushed against her ear like a calm whisper over water. The entire carriage shifted, cloaked in a veil of spirit magic that sealed it away from the world outside.
Across from her, Sarah de Wyndham sat stiff and pale. The viscountess’s lips trembled, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as though to hold back her fear. She’s not a warrior, not a fighter born to face blades and sorcery. Her life had been one of courts and halls, and danger like this hollowed her courage into glass.
Vivianne, however, felt no such terror. She had lived through worse in her past life, tossed aside like a ragged doll, powerless and bound to the whims of others. Compared to that misery, this moment, with allies at her side and power at her fingertips, is almost comforting.
Undine whispered again, and Vivianne’s eyes widened. "Oh, you can do that?" she asked, surprise lacing her voice. A small, determined smile crossed her lips. "Alright then. Let’s try it." Check latest chapters at novel⁂fire.net
A sphere of clear water shimmered into existence before her, floating gracefully into the air. It drifted out through the curtain and toward Roxanne, covering her head. Maxim and Red stiffened the moment they saw it, alarm flashing in their eyes. Both men reached instinctively for their weapons.
"Wait—what is that?" Red muttered under his breath, tension coiling in his stance.
But Roxanne raised her hand, steady as stone. "Stand down," she said with calm certainty. "It’s Undine."
The water shifted its shape as it reached her, flowing across her face. What began as a hovering orb stretched into a thin veil that slipped smoothly over her eyes and ears. It glimmered faintly, like glass catching dim light, and then settled into place, forming what looked almost like a clear monocle fused with her skin.
From the outside, it’s unsettling, unnatural, and even strange to watch. Maxim and Red exchanged nervous glances, but Roxanne sat steady in her saddle, unshaken, her breathing even. She trusted Undine.
Inside the carriage, Vivianne gasped softly. Her purple eyes shimmered, then shifted, glowing with gold as Undine’s vision and hearing bled into her own. In an instant, she saw beyond the walls of the carriage.
She saw figures moving through the forest, dark shapes slipping between the trees, and the faint glimmer of steel hidden in shadow. She heard their hushed voices, the low growl of intent, and the faint scrape of weapons being drawn. She shared it all with Roxanne: the sights, the sounds, and the truth of what awaited them.
Roxanne’s lips pulled into a grin, wide and fierce, her pulse thrumming with excitement. The taste of battle, sharp and electric, stirred in her blood. She had never been this prepared and this excited for a fight.
"Maxim. Red. Mara." Her voice rang sharp and clear, brimming with energy. "I can see them. Every step. Every word. I know exactly where they are and exactly what their plan is."
The soldiers glanced at one another, unease flickering in their eyes. But Roxanne’s grin, full of fire and certainty, steadied their nerves like steel hammered in flame. For the first time since the journey began, the dread that weighed on them shifted, turning into something far more dangerous. Anticipation.
Roxanne’s grin widened as the golden light in Vivianne’s eyes flickered like a torch in the dark. She turned in her saddle, her gaze sweeping over the gathered soldiers, the thirty knights of her own household, hardened and loyal, and the fifty Wyndham knights, less seasoned but disciplined enough to hold their ground.
Vivianne is more than ready, her eyes shimmering as every sight and sound flowed into her, then passed on to Roxanne without a single word wasted. With that clarity guiding her, Roxanne began shaping her forces.
"Form up!" Her voice rang sharp and commanding, and the soldiers straightened at once, armor clinking as shields shifted and weapons lifted.
She urged her horse forward a few paces, raising her hand to direct them with practiced ease. "My knights, to the front lines. Shields down, weapons forward. You will be the wall that takes their charge."
The thirty knights of Borgia answered as one. They moved like a single body, every step measured, their formation tightening around the carriage and wagons. Weapons gleamed as they locked into place, long spears braced for impact, swords drawn with disciplined precision, and even twin blades spinning briefly before settling into readiness.
Mixed-blood warriors, stronger than any race on the continent, they are a shield of flesh and steel, standing as the first line between the enemy and the envoy. Roxanne’s gaze shifted to the Wyndham men.
They’re in a larger number than hers, fifty strong, but less blooded in true combat. She tempered her words for them, her voice firm but not sharp. "Wyndham knights, you will hold the second line. Support the front, cover the flanks, and keep your shields high. Your task is not to break them—it is to make sure no enemy slips past. Let my knights bear the brunt."
The Wyndham men nodded in unison, tightening their movements as they broke apart into three distinct groups. Anton took the center with the authority of a man who had drilled these men for years. At his side, his two children, each carrying both the pride and burden of their family name, took command of the left and right divisions.
The fifty knights shifted into place with efficiency, shields raised, swords raised dully under the fading light. Their formation isn’t as precise as Roxanne’s household knights, lacking the unity of soldiers who had fought side by side for years, but it is steady. A solid wall of steel and flesh that would hold so long as Anton’s voice carried over them.
Positioning themselves just behind the Borgia’s line, their presence added weight to the formation, a second wall ready to brace against whatever might come. Roxanne’s thirty knights formed the hitting point, solid and fierce, while the Wyndham men shaped the body of the formation, the strength that would sustain it.
Anton lifted his blade high, signaling his children, and for a moment the clatter of armor stilled. The road ahead stretched in uneasy silence, framed by thick woods that pressed close on either side, shadows shifting as if the forest itself held its breath.
"You—do something." Roxanne nudged her shoulder toward Tempest, her tone half a command, half a challenge.
The Spirit King of Wind snorted, clearly displeased at being ordered so casually, but he lifted a hand all the same. A sharp gust rippled outward, stirring cloaks and rattling banners. Then, with a sound like a storm caught in a cage, the wind wrapped itself around the entire envoy.
The air shimmered faintly, a translucent barrier taking shape, unseen yet felt in every breath. Leaves and dust skittered away before it, and the uneasy silence of the road deepened as if the world itself had been pushed aside.
Roxanne smirked, satisfied. "That’s better. Let them try to break through that."
Her eyes glimmered, golden reflections of Vivianne’s borrowed sight flickering in her mind. "Maxim, Red—you’ll stay close to me. Mara, take the right flank and reinforce it. The enemy will test our edges first before they strike the center."
"Yes, my Lord," Mara replied, her voice sharp as she swung her horse into position. The air thickened with anticipation. Even the horses snorted and pawed at the dirt, ears flicking nervously as if they too could sense the danger pressing closer.
Roxanne saw everything and prepared the knights. "They’re moving faster now. Splitting into two groups. Thirty to the east side of the road, fifteen circling to the west." She’s really excited to see their faces. "The one with the dark magic... Umbra, he’s mine."
Roxanne’s grin sharpened into something almost wolfish. "Perfect." She turned back to her knights. "You guys can take ten of them by yourself, right? Now, Borgia knights! Fight to your heart’s content!" She lifted her sword, its steel catching the dim gray light that filtered through the clouds above. A ripple of excitement stirred among her men.