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Chapter 27

The chamber pulsed with a sickening, unnatural rhythm. The air was thick with dark magic, burning with tension. The walls of the ancient stronghold glowed with veins of crimson and violet light, alive with the corrupted energy that had kept it hidden for so long.

Baron, Avynna, Gina, Rayna, and the warriors burst through the final barrier, the doors of the ritual chamber exploding inward with a thunderous crack. The moment they stepped inside, they froze—each of them struck by the horror before them.

There she was.

Bavanda.

Her once-brilliant aura was now cloaked in shadows. Dark tendrils writhed around her body like sentient mist. Her hair floated with unnatural weightlessness, her eyes two endless voids of obsidian black. Beside her stood Theresa, her features twisted into a cruel smirk, her hands glowing with malevolent power.

“Well, well,” Theresa said, her voice dripping with mockery. “The family reunion begins.”

Baron took a step forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No…” he whispered. “No, not like this.”

Theresa laughed—a sharp, chilling sound that echoed off the stone walls. “Yes. Look at her, Baron. Your precious daughter. She's exactly what she was meant to be.”

Avynna’s knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself, her voice strained as she called out, “Bavanda… baby, look at me.”

Bavanda didn’t move. Her expression was blank, lost, her black eyes unblinking. The shadows clinging to her pulsed with every heartbeat.

“You don’t need to fight anymore,” Theresa crooned, stepping closer to Bavanda like a lover guiding her partner. “Let them see what you’ve become. Let them understand.”

Baron’s fists clenched. “You did this to her,” he growled.

“She chose this,” Theresa spat. “You just never accepted what she really was.”

Before Baron could surge forward, Gina and Rayna stepped in beside him, holding him back with steady hands.

“Not yet,” Rayna whispered. “She’s still in there. I know it.”

Avynna stepped forward, ignoring the battle-ready stance of the shadows surrounding Theresa. Her voice trembled but remained steady. “Bavanda… sweetheart, I know you’re in there. I know you’re scared. I know it hurts. But this isn’t who you are.”

Bavanda’s fingers twitched.

“You’re strong,” Avynna said, tears spilling freely now. “You’re my daughter. You have your father’s fire, your mother’s heart. And you have a little brother who cries for you every night.”

A sound, faint but raw, escaped Bavanda’s lips. Like a sob crushed beneath the weight of chains.

The shadows rippled violently. Inside her own mind, Bavanda was spiraling.

Everything around her was chaotic. Screams. Blades clashing. Magic crashing against stone. But none of it touched her. She stood alone in a field of ash, surrounded by whispers that slithered through her thoughts like serpents.

“They never wanted you.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“You are not their daughter anymore.”

“You are ours.”

She clutched her head, gasping, as pain surged through her chest. The battle raged like a storm around her, but inside Bavanda, the true war had begun.

She stood at the center of the ritual chamber, dark energy coiling up her limbs like smoke. Her eyes, black as obsidian, scanned the battlefield without emotion. Theresa’s voice was a steady poison in her ears.

"You see how they fight you. How they fear you. This is who you are now."

The words kept repeating in her head, until a whisper broke through the fog.

“Bavanda…” It was her mother’s voice.

And suddenly, she was no longer in the stronghold.

The world melted into the warmth of a nursery. The flicker of candlelight danced on pale walls. Little Bavanda lay nestled in Avynna’s arms, her mother’s lips close to her ear.

A lullaby, soft and gentle, hummed in the old tongue, weaving through the dark like magic—one that she had grown up to love. The lyrics drifted in and out of her head, in an unsteady yet grounding rhythm. “You are the moon’s chosen, my love. Never forget who you are.”

Young Bavanda’s eyes fluttered close to the rhythm of her mother’s heartbeat, a heartbeat now echoing faintly through the darkness inside her.

She blinked—returning for a moment to the ritual chamber, her claws twitching at her sides.

"No," she growled under her breath.

"Yes," Theresa hissed. "You are power. They only want to chain it. But with me—you’ll be free."

Another ripple in her mind—then she was back on the training ground. The training ground echoed with cheers as young Bavanda, barely a teenager, took down a warrior twice her size in a spar. Covered in dust and sweat, she looked toward the sidelines—where Baron stood, arms crossed, eyes glinting with pride.

Her chest heaved with adrenaline and joy. She had just taken down one of the senior warriors, something no one her age had done before.

Her father approached her, his expression that of pure pleasure. His arms crossed—but his smile… proud. So rare, it made her heart melt.

"That’s my daughter," he’d told the others. "Born to lead."

Back in the ritual chamber, Bavanda’s lips parted. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Theresa’s eyes narrowed, her face contorting into an ugly frown. “You’re faltering,” she sneered.

But Bavanda was far away.

A baby’s cry. The scent of fresh linen.

Bavanda, overjoyed, peeked into a crib for the first time. Wide blue eyes blinked up at her. A tiny, wrinkled hand reached out and clutched her finger.

Her heart cracked open. This was her little brother.

“I’ll always protect you,” she whispered. She had promised, but how could she do that like this?

The ground beneath her shook as battle cries filled the chamber. Her mind tugged her back—yet again. But the memories were relentless.

Tears were streaming down her face as her body trembled. Her black empty eyes narrowed from person to person, although she could see no one.

What she saw was Loco—not bloodied from fighting for her, but looking like the sexiest man she had ever seen.

The cave was warm, a quiet haven from the world outside.

Loco’s gaze was intense, softer than she’d ever seen it. He didn’t touch her, just stared, his voice breaking.
“I never wanted this life… but meeting you… it gave me something to fight for.”

Later, when their lips met, and fire and emotion surged between them, Bavanda had felt something she couldn’t name—but it had felt real.

True.

A fire crackled between them in the cave. Loco’s eyes reflected it like embers, his voice low and vulnerable.
Later, their fingers entwined, hearts pounding in silence, Bavanda had leaned into him, feeling—if only for a moment—like she belonged.

Indeed, it was only for a moment.

Back in the chamber, Bavanda’s breath hitched. Her claws shook.

Her eyes flickered—black to silver. Silver to black.

“Bavanda!” Loco shouted from across the chaos, bloodied but standing. “Come back to me!”

She turned toward him. Her heart thundered. Her soul split. At that moment, right when it seemed there was some hope, Theresa’s voice rang out in a final, cold chant.

A scream tore from Bavanda’s throat as she dropped to her knees, convulsing, the war within her reaching its crescendo.

“No… no…”

From across the battlefield, a single voice cut through the fog. “Bavanda!” Loco cried.

He stumbled toward her, blood staining his torn shirt, a fresh gash across his temple. His weapons were gone. He had nothing but himself.

He stopped just beyond reach of her claws and knelt, his voice low and reverent.

“If you’re gone,” he said, breathing heavily, “then I’ll go with you.”

She blinked.

“I’ll walk through whatever darkness you’re in. I’ll face every nightmare. But I won’t leave without you.”

Bavanda’s breathing hitched.

“I know you’re still in there,” Loco whispered. “I see you. Even now.”

Her hand lifted slowly, claws forming. Darkness swirled around her fingers. For a moment, the chamber held its breath.

She stepped toward him, hand raised—ready to strike.

Her eyes flickered.

Black.

Then silver.

Then black again.

“Come on,” Loco breathed. “Come back to me.”

Bavanda’s lips parted. “Lo… co…”

Then Theresa shrieked. “No!” She couldn't let the tables turn.

Dark magic surged from her hands, a bolt of violet flame tearing across the room. It struck Loco square in the chest, hurling him back into the stone wall. He crumpled with a cry of pain, unmoving.

Bavanda screamed.

The shadows writhed violently, twisting into serpents and claws. Her body began to shake again, convulsions overtaking her as the pull of the darkness intensified, feeding off her anguish.

Theresa advanced, eyes wild. “You’re mine, Bavanda! You hear me? You are mine!”

But Bavanda—her hand still outstretched toward where Loco had fallen—was frozen between two worlds. Between the girl she had been, and the weapon Theresa wanted to create.

Who was she?

Hey Guys please check my other stories: The Lycan and His healer mate, His Purchased Wife, 365 Days in Dmitry Cage, The fatal Lycan and his mysterious mate, Xiol's Treasured Mate, The luna and the lycan, Flash Marriage: President's Seduction, In Adonis world, Alpha's little Vampire Mate on R.a.d.i.s.h.

Also you can check Alpha Lucious on F.i.c.t.i.o.n.m.e and His Purchased wife on Readink

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Betrayed by My Ex, Claimed by His father on Goodnovel