Dark Angel

Part 12

The chamber seemed to shrink in the weight of the tension that hung thick in the air, suffocating the very essence of understanding and reason. As I stood face to face with Sarah, her presence cast in the golden glow of the throne that had once been Domenica's, I felt a surge of indignation rise within me like a tempest on the horizon.

"Sarah, why are you sitting there?" I demanded, my voice a low growl of frustration barely contained beneath the surface.

Her response was laced with a venomous edge, a facade of regality masking the darkness that lurked within. "Well, don't you think it fits me? After all, it was made for a queen," she retorted, her words dripping with arrogance and entitlement.

I bristled at her audacity, the very notion of her claiming Domenica's throne a slap in the face to everything she had stood for. "You are right," I conceded, my voice a sharp retort in the stillness of the chamber. "It was made for a queen, and that is not you, Sarah. That throne belongs to Domenica."

Her laughter echoed through the chamber like a haunting melody, the sound grating against my senses like nails on a chalkboard. "How dare you speak to me like that," she seethed, her words a venomous hiss that cut through the air like a knife. "I had enough of you, Marcos. I thought we could work things out, but clearly we can't."

Before I could respond, she unleashed a torrent of magic, her spells crashing against me like waves against a rocky shore. But just as I braced myself for the onslaught, a shield of shimmering energy enveloped me, deflecting her attacks with a resolute strength born of unyielding determination.

As I turned to face my unexpected savior, my eyes fell upon Magnus Bane, the enigmatic warlock whose presence seemed to defy the very fabric of reality itself. His gaze bore into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, his expression unreadable yet strangely comforting in its familiarity.

"Domenica may have seen many things, but I wondered how she couldn't see your true face," Magnus mused, his voice a melodic cadence that echoed through the chamber like a haunting refrain.

"I am not alone," he added cryptically, his words hanging in the air like a riddle waiting to be solved. And as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, I realized that the true battle had only just begun.

As Magnus and I stood outside the crumbling remains of the once magnificent palace, the weight of Domenica's actions bore down upon me like a crushing wave. Sarah's words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of the destruction that had been wrought upon the place that had once been our sanctuary.

"Oh, don't worry about your lover," Magnus remarked, his tone tinged with a sense of detached amusement. "His mother has taken him under her wing again."

I felt a pang of anguish pierce through me at the thought of Marcos, ensnared once more in the web of his mother's machinations. But before I could voice my concerns, Magnus's hands began to emanate a strange purple fog, tendrils of magic coiling and twisting around his fingers like ethereal serpents.

"You see, before Domenica went to that ball, she left me a message to cast a spell upon this place," Magnus explained, his voice carrying a weight of resignation. "If you look around, you won't see any servants or supernatural beings. The spell was meant to render this palace nonexistent."

The revelation struck me like a physical blow, a surge of disbelief and betrayal coursing through my veins. Domenica, the architect of this magnificent palace, had ordered its destruction, an act of finality that left me reeling with a sense of profound loss.

"No, she wouldn't do that. She loves this place," I protested, my voice tinged with desperation as I clung to the hope that there must be some mistake.

"I know," Magnus replied solemnly, his expression betraying a hint of sorrow. "But after all, she was the one who built it, and perhaps it was only fitting that she be the one to destroy it."