Cursing Fate

Belrand.

The Lower City.

A hidden place.

Within the pitch-black space, flickering candlelight cast grotesque, dancing shadows that mimicked specters.

Upon the circular altar, an eerie azure moonlight cascaded, illuminating gaunt, fanatical cultists. They sat in a circle, chanting a frenzied hymn that sounded like the guttural roars of a thousand demons.

Beyond the altar’s perimeter, a vast blood pool rippled, its surface littered with floating bones. A thick, bloody stench permeated the air, a scent of utter madness and the world’s deepest defilement, spreading like a dense fog.

Miss Siren stood at the edge of the blood pool, inhaling deeply. Her face flushed with intoxication, as if she had just savored a fine, aged wine.

“My Lady, this is the last batch.”

Behind Miss Siren, a respectful figure bowed low, directing subordinates to tip terrified, despairing corpses into the blood pool.

“Only these?”

Miss Siren’s gaze dropped to the blood pool. It seemed to be less than the anticipated volume.

“The Silent Watch has been pursuing us relentlessly; we truly couldn’t acquire any more,” the figure replied, his face contorted in shame.

“Is that so? In that case, you know what to do, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

The expression of shame abruptly transformed into fanaticism. The man suddenly produced a dagger and slit his own throat.

Blood spurted. He tilted his head back, gazing at the eerie blue moon, and let out a hoarse, indistinct growl: “Moon Eternal!”

“Moon Eternal!”

More guttural roars erupted. One after another, the men who had been moving the corpses slit their throats and pierced their own hearts, allowing their blood to gush and spray freely.

Then, with a series of splashes, they tumbled into the blood pool.

The blood pool neared its brim, then began to churn violently.

The runes on the altar glowed, inch by inch, as the cultists’ hymn grew even more frenzied.

Yet, it seemed something crucial was missing. This grand ritual could not reach its perfect culmination.

Miss Siren appeared unhurried. She tapped her arm, humming an enchanting, eerie tune, waiting patiently.

Suddenly, she turned her head, looking into the darkness.

“You’re late,” Miss Siren remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all.”

The reply from the darkness was as cold as ice, utterly devoid of emotion.

“True, the ritual has only just begun.”

Miss Siren smiled faintly, her allure absolute. She extended a hand into the darkness, saying, “Then, welcome home, my… family.”

After a moment of silence, a hand emerged from the darkness and clasped Miss Siren’s palm.

A purple skirt fluttered like a butterfly, and a cascade of hair fell like a suspended galaxy. As the exquisite face emerged from the shadows, even the moonlight itself seemed to dim in comparison.

Anna Campbell.

Yet, the familiar charm and tenderness were absent from her beautiful face. Instead, there was a cold indifference that could seemingly freeze the very air, her icy, serpentine eyes gleaming without a flicker of emotion.

It was as if she had become an entirely different person.

“Oh, how peculiar.”

Miss Siren twitched her nose, sniffing at Anna.

“You carry Ewan Campbell’s scent, yet there’s no trace of blood. Given your strength and connection to him, did you truly fail to seize the opportunity to kill him?”

“He escaped.”

Anna stated plainly.

“He is, after all, a Duke’s son. He isn’t so easily killed.”

“Indeed, a pity.”

Miss Siren nodded, a flash of hatred and regret crossing her eyes, yet she harbored no suspicion. Anna, at this moment, was clearly consumed by the Serpent Transformation Sickness, having become the Moon’s most devout follower.

Her failure simply suggested bad luck, or perhaps Ewan Campbell’s identity was too formidable. If he could summon a magically-powered cannon in the city, who knew what else he could conjure?

“Well, it’s of no great consequence. After tonight, everything will reach its destined end, and Ewan Campbell… is naturally no exception.”

Miss Siren raised her hand, shouting excitedly: “Moon Eternal!”

A fervent expression appeared on Anna’s face as well, and she echoed softly, “Moon Eternal.”

“How beautiful you are.”

Miss Siren tilted her head, admiring Anna’s purple dress. The form-fitting gown perfectly accentuated her curves, swaying with an ethereal beauty.

“Did you adorn yourself so grandly for this magnificent moment?”

“…”

Anna paused. “Naturally.”

“Excellent, excellent. Go, then. The great Moon… awaits you.”

Miss Siren gestured, and the surface of the blood pool instantly stilled, becoming as calm as a crimson carpet.

Anna stepped onto the blood-red path, gracefully walking towards the altar.

The cultists ceased their chanting, prostrating themselves before Anna. Their faces were a mixture of reverence and fanaticism, as if they yearned to kiss her feet, yet feared defiling the noble divine offspring.

Anna stood at the center of the altar, looking up. She gazed at the eerie blue moon in the sky, seemingly lost in the moon’s allure, utterly entranced.

“Then, begin,” Miss Siren commanded.

The hymn, as chaotic and defiling as a demon’s cry, resonated once more.

The cultists clasped hands, singing with unrestrained fervor. Their already skeletal bodies grew even thinner, yet the light in their eyes shone ever brighter.

The blood pool churned, and the purest blood gradually floated upwards, swirling into the deep space, devoured voraciously by an invisible entity.

The moonlight grew increasingly clear.

It was as if a supreme holy deity was showering benevolent light upon the mortal world.

Miss Siren watched this scene, her heart stirring as if countless harp strings were being plucked. She couldn’t help but be overcome with emotion.

Finally. Finally.

This moment was approaching. The great Moon was about to—

*Crack.*

Amidst the frenzied hymn, Miss Siren heard a discordant sound.

So insignificant, yet so… clear.

Her fanatical expression instantly froze.

Her gaze dropped, only to find that the girl who had been staring at the blue moon had, at some point, lowered her head. Her face no longer held fanaticism and intoxication, but rather wistfulness… and disgust.

She had always loathed that moon, and that had never changed.

With a flick of her delicate hand, crystal-clear vials dropped from her sleeve, shattering on the altar.

The discordant sound originated from this.

As the vials broke, multicolored smoke billowed upwards, rapidly spreading and infiltrating the bodies of the chanting cultists.

The hymn ceased abruptly.

It transformed into agonizing screams.

The cultists who inhaled the smoke immediately began to convulse wildly. Foul-smelling blood continuously spurted from their mouths and noses, the virulent smoke corroding everything within them in a short span of time.

Anna waved her hand again, and a long whip lashed out, dragging the cultists one by one into the all-consuming blood pool.

“Anna Campbell!”

Miss Siren’s eyes instantly widened in fury. She lunged desperately towards Anna, her crescent blade flashing. Disregarding Anna’s ‘noble status’, she brought the blade down with a sudden strike.

“Why? How can you still maintain your consciousness!”

The whip coiled back, parrying the crescent blade.

However, the immense force pushing down caused Anna’s blood and qi to surge within her.

And the whispers and icy will, which had been suppressed for so long by the Tears of True Love gem, surged back violently, relentlessly assailing her mental defenses.

Anna’s face paled slightly. She took a deep breath, and softly said, “A witch must always try to curse her fate, mustn’t she?”