Hell's Consort

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THE EMPRESS LUNA

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Luna choked in her last breath.

It felt like his life force was leisurely draining out of her body.

Luna wondered if what advantage they would gain in doing this and what they would tell her to do in exchange.

Archdemons had their bargains.

What do Archangels have to gain leverage when they help someone?

Would these kind Archangels help her cut the cursed threads with the Archdemons without asking for anything in return, or was the first choice something a person who lived in 'La La Land' would expect?

Archangel Azrael rubbed the thread with his forefingers to feel its texture.

Luna's mind could barely feel the thread because of how thin it was when the Archangel Azriel had dug the golden rapier inside her ribcage.

Effortlessly, the Archangel quickly cut Luxen's cord inside her heart without a mess.

It felt so easy, as if it wasn't even there in the first place.

She exhaled a quick gasp before she went dead.

It was the last thing she remembered.

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THE VAMPIRE KING APOLLYON

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Apollyon wouldn't accept this.

The Empress of the Vampire Realm had currently lived the life of a fairy tale in the sense that she was a sleeping princess within castle walls.

Luna might be surrounded by abundant riches, seductive fantasies, ornate wonders, and lavish adornment of the chambers offered by the Vampire King.

Apollyon's servants kept it pristine and elegant, just like how an Empress deserved, yet the walls are thick, cold, and shadowy.

He sat beside her in drooping shoulders, staring at his bloody hands and the stains on his white long-sleeved shirt before he moved his gaze at his reflection in the mirror.

He had dark circles under his eyes despite being in bed all day straight for the whole week.

Despite being nourished whenever he was hungry, Apollyon had maintained a gaunt appearance.

Apollyon didn't sleep—refused to sleep for months in the beginning--because he was afraid that he would miss it when her soul resurfaced back to her body, making him weak and holed up in the Ivory Tower.

There were times when he had laid in bed with Luna because he had no motivation to get up.

Every time he woke up in the morning, Apollyon's vision blurred, and his body felt cold when he checked if the Empress had come back because he already knew the answer.

Ever since his wife was gone, the world had gone bleak and grey.

His thoughts became more obsessive as he lost track of time.

Sometimes, Apollyon overdosed himself with sleeping potions, thinking that would also send him to where Luna had gone that he became addicted to it.

He had this uncontrollable desire to escape this unbearable sadness through sleep, being blood-drunk in Luna every day.

Still, he had skipped the choice of having companionship with other women.

Apollyon had already dispersed the Consortium, anyway, so there would be no comfort from other ladies that wasn't his wife.

That might make him forget his affliction, but that wouldn't solve his problems.

He wanted the pain to end.

He couldn't focus on his tasks as the Vampire King, so he let Jon and Cederic handle them for years.

Apollyon only worked behind the scenes when he wasn't busy drowning himself in blood and melancholy.

He had never shown his face to the townsfolk ever again without the Empress, decreasing his interaction with the world at large, being a hermit.

Apollyon was guilty and ashamed, but the glittered sapphire wolf mask was futile.

If Cederic and Jon weren't loyal to him, then they would have already plotted for his downfall, overthrowing a useless and lovesick King.

It wouldn't be hard to destroy him at this point because he would gladly embrace death.

Countless spells from warlocks and witches all over the Realm, and nothing worked.

There was a hollowness in his chest when her name drifted to his mind on repeat.

Apollyon couldn't help it because Luna was his lifeline, and he was bonded to her.

Luna's soul had drifted somewhere else, but her skin had remained as pale as mountain lilies, and her blood was still fresh as red rose petals.

He had preserved her body in the Ivory Tower, keeping it at a freezing temperature and force-feeding her his blood through vials.

She had been gone for so long, and Apollyon was afraid Luna wouldn't have any vessel to return to and become a ghost for eternity, her soul floating adrift in the Vampire Castle corridors and chambers.

He was obsessed with the loss.

He shook his head, still in denial that his wife was gone.

The Vampire King had waited for her every night and day, sitting by the chair and talking to her as the sun set.

He held her hand and at night and hugged her with longing.

He had experimented all day with the High Priest for any cure, and none of it worked.

Apollyon covered his hand to his face.

He had lacked the energy to do other things aside from bringing his wife back.

He had tried his best.

Apollyon had endlessly stared at the faded blue paints on the walls.

The Ivory Tower was designed to keep things out and secure Luna, defending her from the enemies, but the enemies who had taken Luna away could not be seen.

His romantic rivals to his wife's love couldn't be reached.

It was a world—a Realm—he couldn't enter.

It had kept them in separation.

Luna had entered Hell, where Archdemons had a long-standing obsession with property and power.

That was why these Archdemons intended to possess influential Kings and Queens.

To those who had no power but had potential, they kept them bonded in a devil's contract that would ruin them slowly but surely, tricking them with their promises that were just lies and deceptions wrapped in an excellent package.

"How naive!" Apollyon sneered at his thoughts.

Should he try summoning an Archdemon and strike a bargain to bring Luna back?