His Queen

Chapter 61 - Kitra

The battlefield was chaos—a swirling storm of steel, screams, and blood. The massive black gates of Mordor loomed above the carnage, casting long shadows over the warriors locked in deadly combat. Orcs shrieked and clashed with the men of Gondor and Rohan, their crude weapons tearing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. Among them, Kitra fought with a terrifying grace and speed, her sword a blur of silver cutting down foe after foe.

But it wasn't truly Kitra. She could feel Sauron's dark presence overwhelming her, a suffocating force that drowned out her thoughts, controlling her every move. Her body was a puppet, and Sauron pulled the strings with ruthless precision. Every swing of her blade, every step she took, was not her own. Kitra was trapped within her own mind, watching in horror as her hands—Sauron's hands—cut through the battlefield with masterful swordsmanship that far exceeded her own.

She could feel the weight of the sword in her hand, the way it moved effortlessly through the air, slicing through armor as if it were paper. Soldiers fell before her, their eyes wide with terror as they recognized her face—the face of someone they thought was an ally. But now, that face was twisted in malice, her eyes cold and unfeeling, her mouth set in a cruel, unnatural grin. Sauron was enjoying this, savoring every kill as if it fed his dark hunger.

Kitra's heart ached with every life her body claimed, her mind screaming against the atrocities her hands were committing. Stop! Please, stop! Her internal cries went unheard, drowned out by the overwhelming force of Sauron's will. She felt like she was drowning in his darkness, her own consciousness slipping further and further away with each swing of her sword.

She recognized some of the faces she struck down. Soldiers she had fought beside, friends and comrades who had trusted her. Their expressions twisted in horror and confusion as her blade found them. Their eyes begged her to stop, but there was nothing she could do. She was powerless, trapped inside her own mind, watching as Sauron turned her into his weapon.

The sound of swords clashing rang in her ears, mingling with the screams of the dying and the roar of the battle. Kitra's body moved with unnatural speed, dodging strikes and countering with deadly precision. Every motion was fluid, every step calculated. It was as if she was no longer bound by human limitations. Sauron's presence filled her with dark power, and her body responded to his command with flawless execution. It was both horrifying and mesmerizing, like watching a deadly dance from behind a veil.

But the worst part was the glee she could feel from him. Sauron's satisfaction radiated through her like a poison, seeping into every part of her being. He reveled in the bloodshed, in the pain and fear he was causing. Every life he took with her hands only fed his dark pleasure, and Kitra could feel that pleasure, could feel the satisfaction of each kill as if it were her own.

Yet she fought him. Even in the depths of her despair, she fought. Inside her mind, Kitra thrashed against the chains that bound her, pushing back against the weight of Sauron's control. She had to stop him. She had to regain control. But every time she pushed, Sauron pushed back harder, his will like iron crushing her under its weight. The struggle left her exhausted, her strength dwindling with each passing moment.

Through the chaos of the melee, Kitra caught a glimpse of flowing blonde hair. Alana, her cousin, her sister at arms, who fought valiantly amidst the press of bodies, her sword a silver blur. A thrill of fear surged through Kitra as she felt Sauron turn her attention fully to the warrior maiden.

"No!" Kitra screamed soundlessly, straining against Sauron's iron grip on her mind. But it was futile. Step by inexorable step, Sauron drove her body towards Alana, sword raised to strike. Alana turned just in time to parry the blow, her eyes widening in shock as she recognized her cousin's face.