Reincarnated Soul

Nine : Veil of Darkness

Lucinda’s POV

“Guards, take me to the dungeon. I’m hungry,” I commanded, rising from my golden throne, my voice cold and demanding.

“Yes, our Queen,” they replied in unison, bowing their heads before opening the massive door. They led me through the winding halls, down a long, spiraling staircase that seemed to sink deeper into the bowels of the kingdom. The air grew colder with every step, thick with the stench of fear. When we finally reached the dungeon, the sight before me was as delicious as ever—my personal feast.

The poor, pitiful mortals. Weak, trembling, and caged. Their cries for mercy echoed in the damp, oppressive air. They begged, they pleaded, and they whimpered for salvation, but I only heard the hollow sound of their desperation.

I walked slowly through the rows of cages, savoring their brokenness. They were my toys, my playthings. I stopped, eyeing my next meal. A few of them tried to crawl away, but it was useless. They were trapped in my domain, their fate sealed by the very blood that flowed through their veins.

“Please, have mercy!” one of them cried.

“Don’t kill us! Have mercy!” another begged.

“We didn’t do anything to you! Why would you do this?” a voice trembled.

“SILENCE!” I snarled, my patience wearing thin. Their voices grated against my ears like a dull knife scraping against stone. “If I hear one more word, I’ll drain every last drop of your blood right now!”

The dungeon fell quiet, a stillness that pleased me. They were all so fragile, so easily manipulated. Fear was my weapon, and they were nothing but prey.

As I stalked through the cages, one prisoner caught my eye—a child, his tiny sobs cutting through the silence. Another prisoner, a woman, was trying to comfort him, but her efforts were in vain. His cries filled the air, sharp and raw, and I felt my hunger grow.

Too weak. Too fragile.

"Cry all you want, little mortals. It won't change anything." I smirked, my voice dripping with malice. "You're all just food for me." The laughter that bubbled from my chest was dark and cruel. They were nothing. Less than nothing. "Guards, bring me that child."

"No! No, please don't take my son!" the woman screamed, clutching the boy to her chest in a desperate, futile attempt to shield him.

“Take me instead! Please, not my son!”

“Oh, how pitiful,” I cooed, my tone mocking. I stepped closer, reaching out to gently trace her chin with a clawed finger. I looked into her eyes, my gaze cold as ice. “You want to save him, do you? How... noble of you.”

Her voice trembled with fear, but she was brave, I had to admit. Brave… and stupid.

The noise of the child’s crying pierced through the thick walls of the dungeon, each wail scraping at my patience.

Too loud. Too much.

It was like a hammer driving into my skull, and the irritation inside me began to rise—flooding my veins with anger. I could feel my patience thinning, but I couldn’t give in. Not yet.

I leaned in, my eyes dark with hunger, savoring the moment. "You’re lucky I’m so hungry today," I purred, my voice laced with mock sweetness. My lips curled into a cruel, twisted smile. "So I’ll take both of you."

Before the mother could even comprehend the threat, I seized her head with one hand, the fingers like iron, digging into her skull. Her body stiffened as I twisted her neck to the side, exposing her soft, vulnerable throat. The child’s frantic screams intensified, but they didn’t stop me. They never did.

I sank my fangs deep into her flesh, the blood rushing into my mouth like an elixir. Her warm, rich blood flowed, and I drank greedily, savoring the burst of power that surged through me. She tried to fight, her weak hands clawing at my wrist, but it was all futile. Her strength was nothing against me, nothing against my hunger.

Her body shook in my grasp, her feeble attempts to push me away barely a whisper against the storm of my power. Still, she struggled. I could feel her pulse faltering, weakening, but she refused to go quietly.

"Please… please, no… don't do this," she gasped, her voice thick with fear and desperation.

But her words only made me laugh—low, cruel. It wasn’t about mercy. It never was. With a final, violent tug, I drank deeper, her blood filling me until she went limp in my arms. She was nothing now, her body a lifeless vessel that once held a scream.

I dropped her to the stone floor, her body hitting the ground with a soft thud. The guards immediately stepped forward, taking her corpse away as if it were nothing but refuse.

But my gaze stayed on the child. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror. It was a look I relished. Fear was its own kind of nectar.

"You should be grateful," I whispered, the words thick with venom and dark amusement. "At least you got to die with your mother. Consider it a gift."

I reached for him, the child’s desperate sobs a backdrop to my growing hunger. My fingers wrapped around his fragile neck, feeling his pulse thrum beneath my touch. But this one... this one fought back. His tiny fists struck at my arms, his little body squirming with all the life he had left.

How amusing. How foolish.

With a growl, I tightened my grip, ignoring the pitiful resistance. His skin was soft, fragile—so breakable. He wasn’t going anywhere.

I twisted his head violently, hearing a satisfying c***k as his neck snapped. His body went limp in my hands, but still, he breathed. His body refused to let go. I could feel his blood racing, pulsing under my touch, calling me.

His scream turned into a weak moan, but I didn’t wait. I sank my fangs into his soft, tender flesh, his blood flowing like silk. The sweetness, the richness—intoxicating. His blood was unlike any I had ever tasted. It made me feel younger, stronger, more invincible than ever before. His life drained away slowly, under my complete control.

When I was done, I let his lifeless body fall to the ground, a discarded toy. He was nothing now. Just another feast to add to my endless appetite. I left the child’s lifeless body crumpled on the cold stone floor, knowing my guards would deal with the remains.

“You’re evil,” I heard one of the mortals whisper from her cage. She probably thought I couldn’t hear, but I could hear every word, every breath, every heartbeat. My hearing was far sharper than they could imagine.

“Do you want to be my next meal, prisoner?” I purred, turning slowly to face her. “I could still savor you, if you’d like.” My smile twisted into something cruel, sharp, and it amused me to see the woman—who had dared to speak back—now trembling in fear. How delicious her terror was. I reveled in it.

I turned and ascended back to my chamber, the feeling of power surging through my veins. I felt invincible, as if I could conquer anything. The rush of fresh blood, especially that of a child, left me feeling ageless. My skin was smoother, my strength renewed, my hunger satisfied. It was a gift I savored, a reminder of just how much power I held over them all.

I collapsed onto my bed, letting the feeling of strength flood my body. Reaching under my pillow, I retrieved my hidden notebook—my most treasured possession. It held the secrets of my life, the darkest parts of me. The life of that mother and her son? They would be immortalized here, etched into my record. Their deaths would be part of my legacy, another notch on my belt.

No one else dared touch this notebook. It was mine—only mine. I was its sole keeper, and every word written within its pages was a testament to my power, my dominance, my triumph over all.

As I finished my entry, a dark satisfaction settled over me. I flipped through the pages, my fingers tracing the familiar ink. Each entry was a monument to my ruthless conquests, and as I read, a twisted smile curled on my lips. The weight of my accomplishments pressed in on me, each victory sharper than the last.

But then, my eyes lingered on one particular page. The one that made my pulse quicken.

The day I killed my husband.

The King.