When the light finally dimmed, silence consumed the chapel. The acrid stench of blood and burnt herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the oppressive weight of the transformation. Nauthizia lay at the center of the ritual circle, trembling as the aftershocks of the magic coursed through her altered body. The stone beneath her was cold and slick with blood, the symbols that had burned so brightly now dim and lifeless.
Her hand grazed a shard of broken glass on the ground. With a strained breath, she turned her head toward it, catching a glimpse of her reflection. But it wasn’t her—at least not the version of herself she had always known. Her face was sharper, her jawline angular, her shoulders broad and powerful. Her lips curled back slightly as she caught the glint of her elongated canine teeth.
This was not Nauthizia. This was Nauthiz. But different.
“You’ve truly become him,” Agrippina said softly, her telepathic voice trembling with awe. Her usually sharp eyes softened as she stepped forward, her hands clasped before her. “Nauthiz, the savior Wallachia prayed for.”
Sorinah knelt near the edge of the circle, her expression earnest as she whispered, “We did it. The divinities answered us. You are power incarnate now—a king who will protect Wallachia.”
Daciana, always the boldest, smirked faintly, though her relief was evident in her voice. “This is what you were meant to be, Nauthizia. Or rather, what you’ve always been. The divinities merely stripped away the weakness to reveal your true strength.”
Nauthiz rose slowly, his towering frame casting long shadows across the dimly lit chapel. Every movement felt foreign yet unnervingly natural. His heightened senses drank in the fear and awe radiating from the three women—his mentors, his confidants, his betrayers.
“You think you’ve saved Wallachia,” Nauthiz said, his voice deep, resonant, and devoid of warmth. He turned his glowing eyes on Agrippina first. “You think you’ve given it a king.”
Agrippina straightened her back, meeting his gaze with steady conviction. “We did what had to be done. Wallachia needed a protector—one who could stand against the Ottomans. Nauthizia’s grief was consuming her. You are Wallachia’s only hope.”
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“Hope?” Nauthiz’s laugh was low and sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You call this hope?” He gestured to his transformed form, his voice rising with fury. “You didn’t just strip away weakness. You stripped away me. You made a monster!”
Sorinah flinched, her hands curling into fists. “We didn’t destroy you, Nauthiz. We freed you. This is who you were always meant to be.”
“You decided who I was meant to be,” Nauthiz snarled, his glowing eyes narrowing as he took a step forward. “You decided that Nauthizia was not enough. You didn’t even tell me in time what you planned. You offered me to the divinities like a lamb to the slaughter!”
Daciana stepped forward, her defiance cutting through the tension. “You knew what was at stake! You knew what we prayed for! We gave you the strength to protect Wallachia. To protect Vlad.”
At the mention of his son, Nauthiz’s fury boiled over. His fangs bared as he snarled, “You dare speak of Vlad? You couldn’t even keep him safe! You failed him. You failed me. And now you have the audacity to call this betrayal salvation?”
Agrippina raised a trembling hand. “We didn’t betray you, Nauthiz. We saved you. Wallachia needed strength, and you—”
“Enough.” Nauthiz’s voice was cold and final, his towering form advancing on Agrippina. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. But you will.”
Before Agrippina could react, Nauthiz struck. His claws tore through her throat with inhuman precision, silencing her cry. Blood poured down his arms, and he drank deeply, the taste of her life force fueling the fire raging within him.
Sorinah gasped, scrambling backward, her magic sparking weakly at her fingertips. “Stop!” she shrieked, her voice trembling. “We only wanted to save you!”
“You didn’t save me,” Nauthiz growled, his voice low and venomous. “You destroyed me.”
Sorinah raised her hands, chanting a desperate incantation. A bolt of magic crackled through the air, but Nauthiz moved with unholy speed, sidestepping the attack. In an instant, he was upon her, his claws sinking into her chest as she screamed.
“You prayed for a savior,” Nauthiz whispered, his voice chillingly calm. “Instead, you’ve unleashed a curse.”
With a bite, he drained her life force in seconds, letting her body fall to the blood-soaked floor.
Daciana’s composure cracked as she backed toward the chapel doors. “We gave you power!” she shouted, desperation lacing her voice. “We trusted you to protect Wallachia!”
“You trusted me?” Nauthiz’s laughter echoed, dark and unrelenting. “No. You trusted your vision of me—one you forced upon me without my consent.”
Daciana turned to flee, but the shadows seemed to conspire against her, twisting and writhing as if alive. Nauthiz emerged from the darkness, his glowing eyes locking onto hers.
“You cannot escape me,” he said, his voice reverberating through the stone. “You made me into this. Now face the monster you created!”
With a feral snarl, he lunged, his fangs sinking into her throat. Her screams were brief, silenced as her blood burned through him like fire. As her lifeless body fell, the chapel descended into a heavy silence.
Nauthiz stood among the bodies of the women who had once been his mentors. The crimson light of the runes flickered one last time before extinguishing, leaving only the glow of his eyes to illuminate the darkened chapel.
“You wanted a savior,” he murmured, his voice cold and hollow. “Instead, you have a monster.”