MELONIE
The air in my chambers crackles with dark energy as I whisper the final incantation, binding the soul to its eternal torment. The damned creature writhes before me, its spectral form flickering with agony. A twisted pleasure courses through me as I watch its suffering. This is the power I wield, the legacy of my father. The only way I can show him I am worthy.
"Utterly unsatisfactory," I mutter, dismissing the fading screams with a flick of my wrist. The soul implodes, leaving only a lingering scent of brimstone. Honestly, you'd think after centuries, they'd learn to put on a better show.
Little does he realize, I can love him better than that simpering Valorian princess. She is practically infantile in her naiveté, a pale imitation of the woman Caith truly needs. Only I possess the experience, the fire, to truly satisfy him. The thought of those two together is frankly, insulting. The reason behind all this mess is thanks to an old bargain. A pact between a foolish king and my father, the ruler of this realm. King Adem made a deal with Korath Malaki, the king of hell, for success to take over the Drazamoch Isle. He offered a sacrifice, a pawn in his quest for power: his bastard son, Caith Saint Callum. The terms were simple, in the twisted logic of hell: Caith had to marry me, Korath's daughter. That was the price of his conquest, the debt he had to pay.
I've been raised with that knowledge, that destiny etched into my very being. It has shaped every decision, every ambition. But, then, in a show of defiance that infuriates me to this day, Caith rejected me. He scorned the pact, defied my father, and set in motion a chain of events that has led us to this precipice. That rejection earned him my father's wrath: a curse that will bind him to despair until he fulfills the terms of the original bargain. Until he marries me.
All I want is for him to marry me, I want a companion that I can love.
"Hello, my little bundle of torment," my mother, Psylocia, drawls as she saunters into my chambers, her eyes gleaming with amusement. The hellhounds, sensing her presence, whine and nuzzle against her legs, their crimson eyes fixed on me
"What do you want?" I snap, my tone sharper than a newly honed dagger.
"You seem to be in a particularly foul mood today. What, pray tell, is bothering you?" She knows perfectly well, of course. Mother always does.
"Caith is."
"What has he done now?" she sighs, her voice laced with weary resignation. Dealing with me is, admittedly, a tiresome affair.
"He's getting married tomorrow to some Valorian whore. A woman who is doomed to die." I spit the word out like venom.
"I thought your father's curse was supposed to draw him irresistibly to you. What happened to that particular bit of dark magic?" She arches a perfectly sculpted brow, clearly enjoying my discomfiture.
"I don't know! He seems so confident it would work! But it isn't. I have to talk him out of this nonsense before it's too late." My fingers clench into fists, the nails digging into my palms. I refuse to let a naive little princess ruin centuries of planning.
"Is that truly necessary?" Psylocia muses, her gaze calculating. "He makes this decision willingly, after all. Perhaps a more... subtle approach would be more effective. He must have seen something within that woman." All you have to do now is to sabotage it." Her eyes gleam with a wicked glint.
"Sabotage? Sabotage!" I echo, the word dripping with delicious malice. The idea, quite frankly, is genius. I love torturing people.
"I know of a creature who can help you with that," Psylocia offers, her voice smooth as silk. "Someone who knows a great deal of those Valorians."
"Ooh! You mean Aunt Merithra?" I exclaim, my eyes widening with wicked anticipation. She's always been the fun one.
"No, Sylicia, Merithra's sister. She's got a more...refined touch when it comes to subtle mayhem." Psylocia waves a dismissive hand. "Besides, Merithra might be a tad too...enthusiastic. We want this done right, not just done."
"Hmm. How about an Zelphira instead?" I suggest, a slow smile spreading across my face. The hellhounds, sensing my excitement, begin to growl softly.
"Oh! Better, dear," Mother purrs, her approval radiating like a dark sun. "A Fury is precisely the sort of...unpleasantness this situation requires. Though I wouldn't mind seeing a Succubus working there. So close to that man, feeling his heart".
"Precisely! So I visit Zelphira tonight and seal the deal, and then boom goes the wedding." My laughter rings out, sharp and brittle. "Trust me, we have to be there to watch it all end in tears. Caith returns to me, of course. And that insipid Valorian Princess, Arielle? She'll simply die, one way or another. Perhaps those hellhounds would love to have some fun." The words are spoken with a chillingly casual indifference, the promise of death hanging in the air like a venomous mist.
"Bad girl, Melonie," Psylocia murmurs, a hint of pride lacing her tone. Honestly, she finds my wickedness quite endearing.
We launch into our usual witchy cackle, the sound echoing through the chambers like the screech of harpies, celebrating our deliciously evil plan and, of course, the imminent demise of the husband-thief. It's rather cathartic, really. The hellhounds join in, their howls a chilling counterpoint to our laughter.
"Just wait until you see this, Arielle Henessia Khavena!" I hiss, my voice dripping with venomous glee. "Tomorrow, your perfect little world crumbles to ash, and you finally learn what it means to cross Melonie, daughter of Hades.
You'll be begging for death before the day is through. The worst thing is that you'll be facing is the love and affection Caith will never give you".
I can practically taste the exquisite sweetness of revenge. Arielle will be humiliated, Caith will be mine, and Psylocia? Well, Mother will get to enjoy a front-row seat to the entire glorious disaster.
I grin, already envisioning the chaos and heartbreak to come. Oh, tomorrow is going to be delicious. I never got to the core of the problem, and now that princess is going to pay for that, one way or another.