*The Enchanted Shadefell*
Like a startled bird taking flight, Luna's heart fluttered with a flurry of emotions, beating in sync with the rhythm of an untamed melody, immediately she read the letter in the cloth and burned it.
"Let's go back home, other are waiting for us,"
Luna said as she carried Lily with her mouth.
"Okay, but what about the REMEDORA CRYSTAL we are looking for, to heal others?"
Aurora asked.
"It's time to go home now, we have found our REMEDORA CRYSTAL, that will save the world from Lucas,"
Luna said joyfully.
"She is our savior, her mysterious, abundant and hidden powers beyond calculation. She has what no one has ever had, not even Lucas. She is the one, who we have been waiting for, for the last two decades."
Luna explained little about Lily to Mrs curiosity, and kept more with her.
They head back home and leave the Enchanted Shadefell.
Instantly, Luna and Aurora left with little Lily, a man with black mask on his face, wearing a black Enchanted Wizard Robes, rolled from the sky and landed perfectly. His eyes were black like a black hole, his ears were thick, and his nails were long.
He did not see Lily but saw the ashes of cloth, and he shouted,
"Nooooooooooooooooooo!"
The leaves on the three began to fall, the moon froze behind the clouds and recalled...
In the haunting domain of a dark hell, the palace of Wicked Lucas loomed like a brooding titan, its ebony towers stretching towards the heavens like gnarled claws. The structure appeared as a colossal beast, awakening from slumber, with its windows serving as malevolent eyes that peered into the souls of those who dared to approach.
The palace's facade was draped in shadows, resembling a mourning veil draped over the countenance of a forgotten deity. Its walls, like ancient skin, bore scars and grotesque ornaments, reminiscent of ghoulish faces that seemed to leer and sneer at intruders.
Within its foreboding walls, corridors twisted and writhed like serpents, leading to chambers where eerie whispers echoed like spectral apparitions. The air was heavy with a sinister ambiance, suffused with the scent of decaying secrets and ancient malevolence.
The palace's grand hall was a macabre theater, adorned with grotesque statues and chandeliers that appeared like demonic hands reaching down to grasp unsuspecting souls. The flickering torches cast eerie shadows, dancing like ghostly specters across the stone floors.
In the heart of the palace, Wicked Lucas presided on a throne of bones, his cloak billowing like black mist, his eyes glowing like the embers of a sinister inferno. His laughter echoed through the halls, chilling the hearts of all who heard it, and his gaze bore into the depths of their fears, leaving them paralyzed with terror.
This wicked sanctuary was a twisted fusion of nightmares, a malevolent labyrinth where every corner held a new horror, and every room concealed a grotesque surprise. Those who dared to venture inside soon found themselves ensnared in a nightmare realm, where the line between reality and illusion blurred, and the very essence of fear was brought to life.
Lucas sat upon his hideous chair, a throne of malevolence forged from the bones of fallen souls, its twisted form resembling a vengeful specter lurking in the shadows. Like a dark conductor, he commanded the sinister symphony of his domain with an aura that sent shivers down the spines of all who dared to approach.
His eyes glinted like smoldering coals, burning with an infernal intensity that seemed to pierce the depths of one's soul. His gaze was like a black hole, pulling in the bravado of even the boldest hearts, leaving them trembling in the shadow of his presence.
His countenance was chiseled like a statue carved from onyx, sharp and imposing, exuding an aura of malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of all who dared to meet his glare. His face was a canvas of ancient runes, etched with the cryptic symbols of forgotten incantations, whispering tales of ancient dark arts.
His voice was a mesmerizing cacophony, deep and resonant like the rumble of thunder, yet smooth and enticing like a serpent's hypnotic charm. Each word was a sinister melody, weaving a web of deceit and temptation, ensnaring the minds of those who dared listen.
In his dominion, he ruled with an iron fist, his authority akin to a tyrant of old, his wrath like a volcano, simmering beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any provocation. His kingdom was a realm of nightmares, where fear and suffering were the currency, and hope struggled to find even the faintest glimmer.
His white hairs cascaded poisons like a torrent of venomous snakes, writhing and coiling around his malevolent countenance, a stark contrast to the darkness that engulfed the room. Each strand seemed to exude a malefic energy, as if infused with the essence of wickedness itself.
His long nails, like dagger-like talons, were adorned with the tarnished remnants of ancient spells, each nail a conduit to forgotten malevolence. With a mere gesture, he could unleash a tempest of sorcery that would consume even the bravest souls, leaving them powerless in his grasp.
"Finally, she has been born,"
Lucas grinned.
A voice echoed in his head
"She is a princess with many power, she will end your career when she grows up, but if you can kill her and drink her blood, you will become a very powerful king, and nothing can stop you again, not even God,"
Lucas recalled the voice and laughed wickedly.
"Malphas," Lucas called
"Yes, my Lord," Malphas appeared in front of Lucas and bowed.
Malphas is a demon with the power of ice, possessing eyes as cold as the heart of a glacier, a chilling abyss that froze the very souls of those who dared to meet his gaze. They were like two black holes, devouring light and warmth, leaving only an icy void in their wake.
His ears were thick and furred, resembling the radar of a predatory beast, attuned to every whisper in the wind and the faintest echoes of fear. They twitched like the antennae of an ancient creature, sensing the slightest disturbance in the frigid air.
His long nails were sharp as icicles, poised to strike like frozen daggers, capable of piercing even the strongest defenses. They were like claws of a vengeful ice dragon, ready to unleash a torrent of frost upon anyone who dared to cross his path.
In the presence of Malphas, the air itself seemed to congeal, as if the atmosphere couldn't bear the weight of his icy malevolence. His aura was like a glacial mist, enveloping all who came near in a numbing chill, freezing the blood and stealing the warmth from their veins.
He was a master of ice and darkness, his power akin to a winter storm, capable of freezing hearts and shrouding the world in an eternal darkness. Like an arctic tempest, he swept through the realms, leaving behind a trail of desolation and despair, his presence a constant reminder of the icy grip of fear and the unyielding power of darkness.
"Go to the Enchanted Shadefell, you will see a newborn baby named Lily, bring her to me. I've waited for a century for her to be born,"
Lucas ordered Malphas.
"Yes, my Lord," Malphas bowed and disappeared into the darkness.
Lucas laughed wickedly and each laugh was like a blade of darkness, cutting through the silence with a maleficent charm. It was a cruel dance, a twisted melody that played upon the strings of fear and uncertainty.
To be continued...
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