Chapter 3

In the Thunderstorm Tower next door, Arya's screams had been echoing on and off for half a month.

Every time blinding lightning flashed, I could hear her faint sobs being brutally cut short.

Alexander hadn't lied to me. He truly was using trace amounts of lightning magic to torture a seven-year-old child, attempting to use our daughter's agony to force me into submission before Isabella.

My nails had scraped blackened, bloody trails across the stone bricks. My body was rapidly deteriorating—gray-white hair falling out like dead grass, once-smooth skin now covered in cracks from magical depletion.

But I didn't beg. I simply gritted my teeth in this cold, damp dungeon, waiting with iron resolve.

Waiting for the day the Abyss would devour them whole. A few bowls of lifeblood could never satisfy a demon's appetite.

That day, the thunder suddenly stopped.

Accompanied by a thunderous crash, the dungeon's heavy iron door was violently kicked open.

Alexander stormed in. His eyes were bloodshot, face deathly pale, and his enchanted armor was still stained with black, corrupted blood he hadn't had time to wipe away.

"Cecilia! Hand over your Phoenix Heart!" He savagely grabbed my withered hair, dragging me from the filth into the light.

Searing pain shot through my scalp as if it would tear away. Forced to look up, I met his face—completely twisted with panic.

I cracked my parched lips into something like a smile. "What's wrong? Regular blood not holding it back anymore? Is your beloved's insides starting to rot?"

"Shut up!"

He slammed me against the stone wall. My spine made a sickening crack, and I could feel my organs bleeding internally.

"The demonic energy in Isabella has fully erupted! Every priest in the city is helpless—darkness is consuming her from within!"

Alexander's hand closed around my throat, his breathing ragged. "The priests said only a pure-blooded phoenix's Phoenix Heart can completely purify the Abyss's corruption. Cecilia, you're her sister. Give her your heart!"

The Phoenix Heart. The source of power and life essence for the Phoenix bloodline.

Removing a Phoenix Heart meant that even for a deity, this mortal flesh would die completely, soul shattered beyond recovery.

"Alexander," I didn't struggle, only gazed at him quietly. "Do you understand that without my Phoenix Heart, I will die?"

Alexander's pupils constricted sharply, his fingers suddenly freezing.

But he quickly averted his gaze. A layer of false righteousness swiftly covered the guilt in his eyes.

"Stop playing the victim, Cecilia!" he snarled through clenched teeth. "The priests confirmed it—your self-healing magic is extraordinarily rare. Without your Phoenix Heart, you'll just become powerless, unable to even spark a flame!"

"But Isabella is different. Without your heart, she'll dissolve into a puddle of pus and blood tonight!"

What an absurd excuse.

He was using a lie that couldn't even fool a three-year-old to numb his own conscience.

He didn't truly believe it. He just desperately needed an excuse to murder his own wife with a clear conscience.

Looking at this man I had once shattered my divine essence to save from the Abyss's inferno, the last trace of warmth in my eyes died completely.

"Fine."

I nodded slowly and closed my eyes.

"You're right. As long as I don't die, what does becoming powerless matter?" I even straightened my chest slightly, actively dismantling the last protective magical barrier around my heart.

"Take it, Alexander. This is the last time I'll help you two."

My compliance left Alexander frozen in place. He seemed unprepared for my surrender.

But immediately, his concern for Isabella crushed what remained of his humanity.

He drew the dagger from his waist. Not a military blade, but a cold steel weapon enchanted with high-level cutting magic—designed specifically for stripping scales from high-tier magical beasts.

"I'll remember your sacrifice. Once Isabella recovers, I'll compensate you. I'll let you and Arya leave alive."

He whispered a promise even he didn't believe, pressing the cold blade against my chest.

"Squelch—"

The sound of the dagger piercing flesh echoed obscenely in the silent dungeon.

"Agh—!"

Agony instantly tore through my entire body. Cold sweat drenched my back. I could feel his ice-cold fingers mercilessly reaching into my chest cavity, violently wrenching apart my ribs.

As if afraid I might change my mind, he seized the faintly glowing golden core—my life essence itself.

This wasn't physical pain. This was my soul being torn out by the roots. I threw my head back, biting down on my lip until blood filled my mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

Alexander's hand trembled violently, but he didn't stop.

With a sickening, visceral tearing sound, he ripped my heart from its cavity.

Scalding golden blood erupted like a high-pressure fountain, spattering half his handsome face.

The moment my core was removed, my body collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, crashing into the pool of my own blood.

Alexander didn't spare me a single glance.

Without even wiping the blood from his face, he cradled that heart like some impossibly fragile treasure and bolted from the dungeon.

In his haste, he failed to notice one critical detail—the "antidote" he'd just torn from my chest was losing its gentle golden glow irrevocably.

In its place, a suppressed rage that had festered for over ten thousand years—violent, searing Abyss-fire—began seeping through the severed vessels.

"Clang."

The heavy iron door locked shut with finality, cutting off the sound of his retreating footsteps.

Silence reclaimed the dungeon. My unfocused pupils reflected the pitch-black ceiling as I swallowed this mortal body's final breath.

Without the Phoenix Heart to anchor it, the laws of heaven and earth came to collect their due.

This riddled mortal shell began cracking from the cooling fingertips inward. There was no death struggle, no mangled corpse left behind. Bones and vessels rapidly weathered and collapsed in the darkness.

In mere moments—

"Crash—"

The enchanted chains that had pierced through my shoulder blades fell heavily to the stone floor, their burden gone.

The cold dungeon fell utterly still.

No more labored breathing. No more defiance.

Beneath the empty shackles remained only a dark bloodstain seeping into the cracks.

And a small pile of ash, slowly scattering in the dungeon's cold wind.