Page 187 of Crowned In Venom

Blood fills my throat.

The Matriarch’s hand is buried in my flesh, her claws hooked deep.

She smiles.

"Did you think she could save you?"

I spit blood into her face.

She shrieks.

Anya moves.

Her magic explodes.

The Matriarch is hurled backwards, crashing into the throne.

But she is still not weak enough.

She rises, her hands dripping with my blood, her eyes shining with madness.

"You will die knowing I still win."

Anya steps in front of me.

"Like hell you will."

The final battle has begun.

58

ANYA

The throne room is a battlefield of shadows and blood.

Magic crackles through the air, thick as storm clouds before lightning strikes. The stench of burnt flesh and raw power clings to my tongue, making it hard to breathe. The Matriarch stands before us, monstrous and unrelenting, her form flickering, warping as the darkness within her struggles to hold itself together.

I can feel her magic.

It pulses beneath my skin, hot and toxic. It slithers into my veins like venom, twisting, writhing—but I can also feel something else.

The poison.

It’s inside her. Corrupting her. Slowing her.

She doesn’t realize what’s happening yet. But I do.

And I can use it.

Varkos is barely standing, his breath ragged, his blood staining the marble floor. He grips his sword, his knuckles white with fury, but I can feel his pain through our bond.

The Matriarch watches us both, her lips curled in disgust.

"You think you’ve won?" she sneers, her voice like glass cutting through flesh. "You are nothing. Both of you."

Her hand lifts.

Magic rushes toward us.

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