Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 334: Echoes of the Lie

It was chaos. Riona could barely keep track of the others—too many possessed vampires closing in, too fast, too wild.

For a moment, the temptation surged: unleash the Blood Moon power, level everything in sight, even that smug emperor with the smile she ached to rip from his flawless face.

But reason held. Just barely. She wasn’t about to incinerate her comrades, her lover, his loyal aide, or the brother she was still desperate to save. Not yet.

Instead, she used her signature warm power, just a sliver, just enough to cut through the white-veiled monsters as she forced her way toward the castle.

Desperation washed over her like a tide, cold and consuming. Riona could feel it seeping into her blood, settling deep in her soul. Every second wasted here was another second her brother slipped further from her reach.

Her gaze kept darting to the castle, now nearly swallowed by the creeping darkness. She didn’t know what it meant—but every instinct screamed that it was bad. Terrible. If that shadow consumed it completely, she knew—she felt—she would lose him.

"Florian!" she cried, voice cracking under the weight of fear and hope. Half a plea, half a desperate call for him to find her—just like he always did in the dreams.

She struck down every vampire in her path, her movements relentless—but it wasn’t enough. For every pushed one, more surged forward, drawn to her like moths to flame. The possessed seemed to swarm her in particular, as if the emperor targeted her directly.

That bastard!

But it wasn’t the time to curse at the emperor. She already knew how despicable he was. Her focus was solely on her brother.

"Flo! I’m coming! Where are you?!" Riona shouted, but her voice was swallowed by the chaos. Around her, the vampires groaned and shrieked, their cries twisted with agony, like she was the monster haunting their nightmares.

Even the ones she’d already knocked down were rising again, unfazed, unrelenting. Only death could stop them—but many of these weren’t common thralls. Some bore the strength and resilience of vampire knights, of old bloodlines and aristocracy. They wouldn’t fall easily.

Half-distracted, still searching for a sign of Florian, Riona didn’t see the next wave coming. A cluster of vampires lunged from behind, dragging her to the ground. She hit the dirt hard as they swarmed over her, clawing and biting, tearing at her skin like ants to sugar.

Then—something shifted.

As her blood met their wounds, the white sheen covering their eyes flickered—then vanished. Just like her comrades, the Asvaldur vampires froze, the nightmare lifting from their minds. One by one, they came back to themselves.

It was a double-edged sword.

On one hand, the possessed who had no place on the battlefield—commoners, servants, and sheltered noblewomen—snapped back to themselves, disoriented and frightened. They posed no further threat, offering no advantage to Asvaldur’s enemies now that they were no longer puppets of war.

But on the other hand, the truly dangerous ones—the seasoned knights and battle-hardened aristocrats—regained not just their minds, but full control of their power. No longer wild and frenzied, their strikes became precise, calculated. And far more deadly than before.

The remaining Asvaldur vampires still trapped in the nightmare mist moved with wild, erratic panic. Those who didn’t belong in a battlefield—servants, court officials, noblewomen—scrambled to distance themselves from the fighting, desperate to escape.

"Help!"

"Kyaa!!"

"Don’t come near me—please!"

"Do you know who I am? Stay back!"

Cries rang out across the chaos. Noblewomen stood frozen in fear, trembling in silken gowns now stained with blood. No one had time to protect them.

One woman, her elaborate hairstyle half undone and her once-luxurious dress soaked red, clung to a nearby knight. He was a grizzled veteran, his armor dented and slick with gore.

"Please," she begged, breathless. "Get me out of here safely. My husband is a margrave—you’ll be rewarded, I swear it. Just don’t let me die here."

The knight gave her a brief glance before turning his eyes back to the chaos. He was still piecing things together—how he’d ended up on this blood-soaked battlefield, what he’d done before the nightmare took hold. His memories came in flashes, jagged and surreal.

"I’ll give you land," the noblewoman pressed, desperation sharpening her voice. "Anything you want! I have a beautiful cousin—she’s noble, unmarried. You could marry her!"

She did, technically, have a beautiful cousin—though only from a lesser house. The prettier one. The one from the higher line, well... beauty had skipped her entirely. But this wasn’t the time for details. Her husband could sort that mess out later. Right now, staying alive was all that mattered.

But the knight didn’t respond. He simply raised a bloodstained finger and pointed.

The woman followed his gesture—and froze.

There, in the distance, stood her husband. The margrave. The man whose influence and rewards she had tried to bargain with.

He was still caught in the nightmare’s grip. His eyes gleamed an unnatural white beneath the mist, and his body swayed unnaturally. One arm was gone. His neck hung at an angle so sharp it looked as though his head might topple off at any moment.

And yet—he still moved. Still breathed. Not out of will, but because the emperor’s puppet-magic hadn’t yet released him.

The noblewoman crumpled to her knees, the truth crashing over her. The knight said nothing. He simply turned and strode back into the fray.

In a war like this, the life of an aristocrat—no matter how highborn—meant nothing beside the fate of a kingdom.

More knights, newly freed from the nightmare mist, surged into the battle with grim determination. The shift in momentum was undeniable—and deeply unsettling to the elders.

Madam Silvia narrowed her eyes against the chaos, her voice rising with fury and disbelief. "Do you even know what you’re doing? You’re helping your emperor destroy everything we’ve built!"

But the knights didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Their minds were still tangled in the remnants of the emperor’s manipulation.

"We will be under attack soon," he had warned them, his voice calm, persuasive. "A dark presence will come to deceive you. They’ll pretend to be allies—but don’t trust them. Only I care about you. Only I care about the fate of this world. Stay loyal, and you will become heroes. Your names will live on in history. Together, we will save this world."

Some had followed him out of blind patriotism, seduced by noble rhetoric. Others, less idealistic, had been bought—monetary rewards and promises of power used to keep their loyalty intact.

"Don’t listen to her! She’s the demon!" a middle-aged knight bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. He raised his arms, a spiraling aura coiling above his palms, glowing with raw power.

Madam Silvia let out a bitter chuckle. "What an irony," she muttered under her breath.

"Your emperor is the one serving the demon!" Ulysses shouted, stepping forward, his voice thunderous, desperate to break through the fog clouding their minds.

The elders had hoped—prayed—they wouldn’t have to kill too many. Even the vampires of Asvaldur were still their blood. But how could they hold back when the knights, once brothers-in-arms, now turned on them with lethal intent?

"Listen to me!" Ulysses roared, his voice rippling across the battlefield. "You are being deceived! Emperor Kaan has made a pact with a demon—it’s already inside your castle! Open your eyes!" frёeωebɳovel.com

A murmur ran through the knights. Some, especially those of noble birth, had heard whispers—rumors of the emperor’s secret obsessions. There had been talk of an underground circle, scholars forbidden from public record, researching dark arts in the depths of the palace.

Ulysses thrust a hand toward the castle, now nearly devoured by a writhing mass of black matter.

"Then answer me this," he shouted. "If we are the demons—why is your palace being consumed from within? Who else would do this, if not the thing your emperor let in?"