Page 98 of Savage Throne
Crimson Thorn Petals had been steeped at precisely the right temperature, their properties carefully monitored to awaken the surge of energy and strength without letting the poison seep through.
Emberroot Essence had been added in deliberate, trembling drops, each one coiling in the hot water like serpents.
The final touch—the Shadow Lotus Powder, a pinch that dissolved into black wisps, stirred counterclockwise seven times.
Seven.
No more, no less.
The ritual was sacred, deadly, and absolute.
She had sipped it without knowing and I watched the transformation throughout the night, saw the way her eyes glistened with a fierceness that hadn’t been there before.
She became a force, wild and unyielding, a glimpse of the true power she was capable of wielding.
It had been necessary, this push beyond her limits.
I will not regret this. She is now. . .and truly. . .my little monster.
Song’s footsteps crunched alongside mine.
I glanced down at Monique, her lashes were dark against her cheeks. A small cut above her brow still trickling a thin line of blood.
Even now, blood-streaked and bruised, she is captivating.
It was an unwelcome thought, one that I had tried to bury countless times.
The weight of Monique’s body pressed against my chest, warm despite the frigid air.
Her breaths were soft, almost fragile.
She was sleeping, her exhaustion pulling her into a deep oblivion after the carnage she’d endured—and created—back in that tent.
I smiled.
She fucking did it. I had my doubts that she could even survive yet. . .they bowed to her. Cowards. Idiots. They could have killed her easily but that is the difference between followers and monsters.
I felt the steady thrum of her heartbeat against me, and for a moment, my resolve wavered.
My sweet Monique.
Power was a beast that devoured everything in its path, leaving nothing untouched. It required sacrifices, demanded blood, and often feasted on the very ones who wielded it.
I knew this well.
For decades, I had embraced the role of villain, sharpening my fangs and hiding the parts of myself that would betray weakness.
Monique, God help me, was the sharpest edge I had ever forged.
Now, my bloodline will be stronger than ever.
Soft snores left Monique.
I looked up at my brother. “Did Deng get all of it on camera?”
“He did.”
“Every shot of her guns?”
