Chapter 90: Beneath The Eastern Skies (3)
The moment the envoy’s words faded, a faint scoff drifted through the room.
Elara’s brows knit with skepticism, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly.
The Queen of Loria responded only with a polite, measured smile, betraying nothing of her thoughts.
Even Melvin, caught off guard, tilted his head as if trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t quite understand.
Such grand claims were nothing new — and the Blackwoods had rejected similar overtures many times before.
But then, something subtle happened.
King Blackwood’s white eyes flashed with a brief, hidden golden light. His gentle demeanor remained unchanged, yet his voice carried quiet authority as he nodded.
"Very well," King Blackwood said calmly. "Inform your King that I will attend... in one month."
The envoy maintained a perfectly composed expression, bowing deeply with practiced respect before turning and leaving the throne room.
Yet the moment the heavy doors closed behind him, a faint, satisfied smile curled at the corners of his lips.
’Everything is proceeding exactly as planned.’
The instant the envoy was gone, the warm, loving atmosphere in the throne room shattered.
The Queen of Blackwood’s gentle expression vanished completely.
Hummm!!
A thin layer of frost began to creep across her skin, delicate ice crystals forming along her arms and collarbone as her white eyes sharpened with cold intensity.
"What is this about?" she asked her husband, voice low and edged with suspicion. "You have never agreed to something like this before."
Before the conversation could shift any further, Elara moved quickly. She took Melvin’s hand firmly and guided him out of the throne room with graceful urgency.
"Come, little star," she said softly, though her usual warmth carried an undercurrent of unease.
----
As they walked down the long, sunlit corridor, Elara felt a strange, deep discomfort settle in her chest.
It was as if the earth itself was whispering warnings through the stones beneath her feet, as if the wind brushing past the windows carried a faint, ominous message from nature itself.
Her grip on Melvin’s hand tightened slightly.
After they had walked for some time, she stopped in a quiet alcove overlooking the royal gardens.
Turning to Melvin, she offered a faint but sincere smile.
At eleven, he was almost as tall as she was, shooting up in height pretty fast.
She bent slightly to meet his eyes and spoke with unusual seriousness.
"Melvin... promise me something. One day, you will truly lead the Blackwood Kingdom to greatness. And you will begin taking your training seriously.... No more laziness. Promise me."
Melvin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her demeanor.
"Sister... why are you acting so weird all of a sudden? Did something happen?"
Elara’s expression remained gentle but firm. She squeezed his hands.
"Just promise me, little star. Please."
-----
One month later....
The training fields behind the royal palace were quiet under the light of the seven suns.
HUMMM!!!!
Young Melvin stood in the center, crudely manipulating his winter affinity — small flurries of snow swirling clumsily around his hands as he tried to form basic constructs.
In the distance, he watched with wide eyes as his father — the King of Blackwood — soared into the sky alone, his figure growing smaller against the horizon.
It was the first time in Melvin’s life that he had ever seen his father leave the kingdom by himself.
A strange, uneasy feeling settled deep in the boy’s chest as the icy wind continued to swirl weakly around him.
But despite that, after promising Elara, he quickly shifted his focus back to training.
----
In the exact moment King Blackwood soared away from his kingdom, the same Loria envoy stood hidden among the tree lines not far from the border.
His eyes tracked the distant figure with cold satisfaction.
He pulled out a small, glowing token from his robes and whispered into it.
"The Blackwood King has departed... and he is coming alone."
----
Deep within the Loria Kingdom’s royal palace, an unusual and oppressive scene was unfolding inside the grand throne room.
The real thrones stood vacant, and in their place, a woman in her late forties reclined on a raised platform of gleaming obsidian.
Her skin was pale, her frame delicate, as if she were still mending from some grave injury, yet an undeniable, ancient power seemed to pour from her very being, filling the space with its weight.
The Queen of Loria stood respectfully beside her, having just received the message.
"Mother... the King of Blackwood is on his way," she reported quietly.
At the foot of the platform, the King of Loria knelt completely naked, his powerful body bowed low in total submission.
With reverent devotion, he pressed slow, deliberate kisses against the Ancestor’s bare feet, his lips brushing against her skin without the slightest trace of hesitation or pride.
The Ancestor of Loria slowly smiled, a chilling, satisfied expression spreading across her pale, drawn face.
"Excellent," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of centuries.
"All the catalysts have finally aligned. The King of Blackwood’s mind now belongs to us. As long as we do not push him too forcefully... everything will unfold exactly as planned."
The King of Loria lifted his head, eyes gleaming with dark hunger.
An eager smile curved his lips as he asked.
"Does this mean I will finally be allowed to claim that saintly Queen of Blackwood for myself?"
The Ancestor’s expression darkened in an instant.
BANG!!!
With a sharp, disgusted scoff, she lashed out viciously with her foot, kicking him hard across the chest.
The force sent the powerful King tumbling backward across the cold marble floor, his body skidding several meters before he came to a stop.
He made no sound of pain or protest — only pushed himself back up with the same submissive devotion.
"You pathetic, lust-driven fool," the Ancestor spat coldly. "Yes... You may have that saintly whore once we’ve taken everything else from them."
She then turned her gaze toward the grand doors of the throne room, her voice echoing with commanding authority.
"Now... bring me my grandson. It is time the Prince of Loria received his instructions."
Not long after, the heavy doors opened once more.
The Prince of Loria walked in, completely naked, his body toned and proud. He moved without shame or hesitation, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
The Ancestor smiled slowly, licking her lips with clear hunger.
"Come here, my sweet boy. Sit on my lap."
The prince stayed silent as he complied, stepping onto the obsidian platform and curling into her lap, pressing close to her frail yet strong frame like a child in search of comfort.
The Ancestor wrapped one arm around him, her fingers slowly tracing patterns across his bare skin.
She glanced at her daughter, the Queen of Loria, and handed her a small vial filled with a shimmering pink liquid.
"Take this aphrodisiac. Go prepare yourself properly... and brew some special tea for our honored guest, King Blackwood, when he arrives."
Her voice lowered with cold authority.
"And take your pathetic husband with you. Make sure his lust does not cloud the next steps. They are too important."
The Queen of Loria smiled seductively, her mind already drifting toward thoughts of King Blackwood.
She bowed slightly, then grabbed her husband by the arm and dragged him out of the throne room, the doors closing heavily behind them.
Now alone with her grandson, the Ancestor began to move forward with her next plans.
Her pale, cold fingers traced slow, deliberate paths across his bare chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath warm skin.
She slid lower, caressing the firm planes of his stomach and the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, each touch lingering with possessive affection.
The prince shivered under her, breath already growing shallow.
She leaned in close, speaking to the twenty-five-year-old man in a soft, babying voice, as if he were still a small child.
"Does my sweet boy want a special gift from Grandmother soon?" she cooed, her hand sliding lower, wrapping around him with practiced skill.
The prince’s breath hitched sharply.
Her touch sent electric jolts racing through his body as he struggled to find words, his face flushed and his body visibly hardening under her skilled caresses.
"Y-yes... Grandmother..."
She smiled wider, a wicked gleam in her pale eyes as her hand began to stroke him with slow, teasing rhythm.
"Good boy," she whispered sweetly against his ear. "You can have the Princess Elara all to yourself... but you must do a few things for me first."
Her grip tightened, movements growing more purposeful, drawing soft, desperate moans from deep in his throat.
The prince’s hips twitched involuntarily, completely lost to her touch.
"With your power over illusions... "
"You will frame the young Prince of Blackwood," she purred, her voice like velvet. "You will sleep with Elara without her consent. That is the first catalyst."
The prince laughed breathlessly, trembling with pleasure as her hand continued its relentless rhythm.
"The second," she continued, voice dropping into a dark, husky whisper as she stroked him faster, pushing him right to the edge, "is making sure Elara catches you in the act... as you release your load deep inside her."
Her grip became almost punishing in its intensity.
"Ugh! Gra... grandmother!"
The prince gasped loudly, hips bucking as he finally reached his climax, spilling over her hand in hot, thick pulses.
SPURTT!!!!
As her fingers glistened with his release, the prince caught his breath, still trembling.
A dark, hateful laugh escaped him.
"I’ve always hated... the way that pathetic Prince looked at me..."
The Ancestor let out a low, amused laugh of her own. She gave him one final, affectionate stroke before gently pushing him away.
"Then go prepare yourself well, my sweet boy. Make Grandmother proud."
Once he had left the throne room, the Ancestor sat alone in the heavy silence.
With a lazy wave of her hand, all of his seed floated through the air and gathered into a large, ornate vial that appeared before her.
The vial was already nearly full, containing countless loads collected over what seemed like thousands of years.
The glowing, thick liquid swirled with an unnatural, ominous light.
She stared at it with a deeply satisfied smile, murmuring to herself:
"Soon... I will be the winner."
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