The Dragon King's Hated Bride
Chapter 84: The Worshippers Of Abyss

Chapter 84: The Worshippers Of Abyss

>>Ariston

Drakkar exhaled, low and sharp. "I could never have guessed something like this."

I had an idea... but the scale of this was... beyond my expectation.

The underground realm stretched before us like some twisted, forgotten temple—its ceiling high and uneven, its walls covered in strange markings that pulsed faintly in the dimness. The air was thick, suffocating, as if tainted by something unnatural. But it wasn’t the cavern itself that unsettled me.

It was the people.

Dozens of demons gathered here, low rank demons, their clawed hands reaching toward the center of the room like beggars before an altar. Their eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, were locked on the figure standing before them.

A lone figure, cloaked in deep black, hood drawn low over their face.

In their hands, they held a glass goblet, filled with thick, inky liquid—black as night, yet strangely iridescent, shifting with unnatural hues under the lantern light.

"Black milk."

A shiver ran down my spine.

One of the demons lunged forward, hands desperate, lips parted in a silent plea.

The hooded figure tilted the goblet, letting a single drop of the black liquid fall onto the demon’s tongue.

Immediately, a violent shudder overtook the demon’s body. His hunched frame jerked upright, eyes rolling back before snapping forward again—now glowing with an unnatural intensity. A deep, choking growl escaped him, and his claws elongated in an instant.

The others watched in awe, their hunger only growing.

"That’s—" Drakkar started, his voice tense.

I grabbed his arm before he could do anything. "Not yet."

He gave me a sharp look, but reluctantly obeyed.

I narrowed my eyes at the cloaked figure, my mind racing. This wasn’t just some group of desperate lower-ranked demons. This was a ritual. A worship. And the one in the center—

"Are these demons worshipping that glass of black liquid?" Drakkar asked

"It seems so..." I replied and Drakkar frowned as he looked at me,

"How do you know?" He narrowed his eyes at me, "That riddle," I looked back at him, "The answer," He pointed at the desperate crowd, "Is that ’black milk’ in the glass?"

I held his gaze for a while, then turned away, "I got some information from someone I know. So I came to investigate." I began to walk away

Drakkar let out a sigh, "Where the hell are you going?" He asked

>>Drakkar

Ariston turned to me, brushing dust off his dress with an air of absolute nonchalance. "I’m going to change my clothes."

I raised a brow. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? You didn’t exactly bring a spare set."

He smirked, tossing his hair over his shoulder. "I’ll just knock someone out and take theirs."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Shhh." He waved a hand. "Just stay here and keep an eye on things." And before I could even protest, he disappeared into the shadows of the underground alley.

That left me alone, standing awkwardly near the entrance of a demon-worshipping den, where desperate creatures were clawing toward a mysterious, hooded figure holding up a goblet of black liquid like some twisted priestess.

I sighed. "Unbelievable."

Leaning against the wall, I folded my arms and observed the scene. The demons were practically drooling, eyes wide and glazed, as they fixated on the figure at the center. The more I watched, the more it unsettled me.

"What the hell is in that goblet?"

My instincts screamed at me to act now, but Ariston wanted to wait, and I... begrudgingly trusted his judgment. For now. Although something about Ariston kept bothering me.

When we met on the battlefield I was captivated by how strong he was. For a human to wield so much power was admirable, but when I met him at the stream in the middle of the night. Away from life and him naked, something took over me.

I recalled those memories under the full moon.

I was pretty sure we had the same feelings when we shared our body heat that night. When he willingly came on top of me and we had a passionate night. Which turned into a regular thing later.

He showed me his deepest secret, and I knew he was putting his trust in me and I was happy.

Like genuinely happy. I had never felt a connection like that with any person, the way I felt with Ariston. No matter how much I tried, I could never forget the feeling of his skin. The way my hands glided over them, the way my tail would wrap around his leg and thigh

The way our lips joined

The sound of his breathing,

The haze in his eyes,

The way he would tremble under me...

Till the point he found out I was a dragon prince and suddenly disappeared on me.

I let out a sigh as I came out of my thoughts. Right then when I heard the sound of the entrance creaking open again.

I turned, fully expecting Ariston to come strutting back in with a stolen outfit.

Instead—

"Draegon?"

My younger brother stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as I felt. His dark brows furrowed. "What is this place?" He asked as he entered with his wife, "What are you doing here?"

I crossed my arms. "I should be asking you that."

Draegon exhaled, shaking his head. "I saw you and some girl on the other side of the river, sneaking into some reclusive place. I only followed to make sure you weren’t about to do something stupid."

He stepped further inside, his sharp gaze sweeping across the cavernous chamber. His entire expression shifted when he took in the sight before him.

Beside him, Aelin’s golden hair gleamed even in the dim light, but her eyes were locked on the scene, horror widening them.

Draegon’s voice was quiet but sharp. "What is this?"

I let out a slow breath. "It looks like a cult. A worshipping cult. And it seems like the thing they’re worshipping is that goblet."

Draegon followed my gaze to the cloaked figure, who still held the goblet high above their head. The demons surrounding them trembled in anticipation, hands outstretched, as if waiting for their turn to receive a sip of whatever was inside.

"What is that?" Draegon muttered, his confusion clear.

"Someone called it Black milk." I replied, not telling him that someone is Ariston.

His gaze darkened as he stared at the inky liquid swirling inside the glass. The dim light made it look even more unnatural, shifting between black and violet hues—as if something inside it was... alive.

Was it moving?

We all stared at it, trying to get a closer look.

!!!

And when we did, we noticed that a very close look showed there was something white swirling in it... like an eye...

Then, Draegon stiffened as his hands curled into fists.

I frowned. "What?"

Draegon’s voice came out lower, "I’ve seen that before."

His eyes, filled with something close to shock, never left the goblet. I narrowed my eyes. "Where have you seen it before?"

Draegon’s jaw clenched, his gaze still locked on the swirling, inky black liquid in the goblet. "When I first met Ruoxy," he said slowly, voice tight, "she was drinking that same stuff."

Silence stretched between us. The weight of his words pressed down on me like a stone, and I could tell Aelin felt it too. She paled beside him, her delicate features contorted in realization.

That’s when it clicked.

"The Abyss Gate."

The memory came rushing back—when the gate opened in the basement, I had seen that same black liquid seep out. In the basement the gate was small and so was the amount of that black liquid, but when that big gate opened two years ago. A lot of liquid must have come out too.

Aelin’s whisper broke the tense stillness.

"Are these people... Abyss worshippers?"

We all turned to her as she looked between us, wide-eyed and horrified. She shook her head in disbelief. "And that black liquid... is that how they get their power?"

None of us got the chance to answer.

A voice rang out, silencing the entire underground chamber.

"The Black Milk has given me power unlike anything I’ve ever known." Every demon’s gaze lifted in reverence. Even we were drawn toward the hooded figure, who still stood on that small stone stage above them all, her grip firm on the goblet.

Her voice...

It was too familiar.

"It even brought me back to life when I died."

Draegon went rigid beside me. My own stomach twisted.

That voice—we knew it.

And as if to confirm our worst fears, the figure removed her cloak with one slow, deliberate motion. The heavy fabric slid off, revealing a face we never should have seen again.

!!!

Long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her sharp crimson eyes gleaming with something... unnatural. She lifted the goblet, a slow smirk curling her lips.

"This Milk will grant power like none other."

And then she drank. I felt the world tilt as my heart slammed against my ribs.

Draegon, Aelin, and I stared at her, speechless.

"...Alishay?" My voice barely left my lips.

Beside me, Draegon took a step forward, his entire being coiled in fury. His voice was lower, colder—his malice barely restrained.

"Alishay."

>>Aelin

My heart pounded.

Alishay.

She was standing right in front of us, drinking the black milk. But as horrifying as it was to see her alive, my instincts screamed at me that the real danger wasn’t her. Not at the moment.

It was right beside me.

Slowly, I turned my head.

Draegon was glaring at his sister, his entire body rigid with unrestrained fury. His hands trembled at his sides, his purple eyes gleaming like molten jewels. A dangerous, predatory anger swirled around him like a storm about to break.

Oh no... I just told him about Alishay and what she did...

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, he moved. His fingers wrapped around the magic stone hidden in his pocket, and without hesitation, he crushed it in his palm.

The enchantment around him shattered.

The illusion faded in an instant, revealing his true form—his horns glowed under the dim cavern light, his tail flicked behind him, and in one violent motion, his massive black wings unfurled.

"Draegon!" Drakkar reacted but his brother didn’t listen. And then—he launched himself forward.

There was no warning. No hesitation.

One powerful flap sent him soaring straight for Alishay, his claws outstretched, his body nothing but a streak of rage-filled motion.

Alishay had barely lowered the goblet from her lips when she noticed him.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she reacted fast. Too fast. She twisted at the last moment, just enough to dodge a direct hit—but not enough to stop the impact.

Draegon’s attack crashed into her, knocking the goblet clean from her grasp.

The glass tumbled through the air in slow motion, the thick black liquid spilling in heavy drops as it fell.

And then—chaos erupted.

The demons below, once kneeling in reverence, lurched forward like ravenous beasts. Clawed hands and gnashing teeth fought to catch even a single drop of the Abyssal elixir before it hit the ground. A frenzied hunger overtook them, their eyes rolling back in ecstasy at the mere scent of it.

But above them, in the air—Draegon and Alishay collided again.

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