The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 152: Poem For Vengeance

Awaking with a gasp, Donovan found himself surrounded by an oppressive void. The darkness was so deep and unyielding that it swallowed any trace of light. It was colder, and much more suffocating than any darkness he had ever known.

To him, the space was unsettlingly familiar, tugging at the frayed edge of his memory with a sensation that sent a shiver down his spine. Something about this place whispered danger, and an urgent, instinctive alarm throbbed in his chest.

He wasn’t meant to be here.

Bracing himself, he slowly pushed off the icy ground, his muscles quivering with an unexpected strain. His knees buckled, threatening to drag him back into the abyss, but he forced himself upright, his teeth clenching as he fought the tremor of weakness. Drawing in a sharp breath, Donovan strained his senses, reaching out into the empty blackness for the slightest hint of movement, but there was none.

Nothing stirred. Yet, the weight of dread coiled tighter around his heart, refusing to let him go.

The silence felt heavy, pressing down on him until he sensed a faint incoherent whisper, just on the edge of his hearing. The voices were beyond comprehension, but their presence was clear, an insidious reminder that mocked him with fragments of his most harrowing memories.

Suddenly, the echoes of his past surged to life, and he could almost hear the piercing, heart-wrenching screams of his younger self. Each cry clawed its way up from the depths of his mind, mingled with the venomous curses he had spat in moments of raw pain and seething hatred.

Laughter followed, harsh and jeering, and it resonated with the kind of cruelty that twisted his insides. The memories he had once forcefully buried and locked away, now clawed their way back, unbidden and relentless. Pain coiled within him as he fought to suppress them, desperate to keep the promise he made to himself — to never let himself remember.

"What’s... what’s happening?" The confusion trembled in his voice, his hand clutching his head as if trying to ward off the growing storm of voices. The cacophony in his mind swelled, and it rose to a relentless crescendo that defied his attempts to silence it. No matter how hard, how desperately he fought for control, it was the only thing that eluded him.

"How... how do I make it stop!" he ground out through clenched teeth, only for a sudden, brutal force to seize his throat. It yanked him backward with such ferocity that he staggered, his fingers flying to the thick, iron chains that seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Their cold, biting links coiled around his neck, unyielding, and with every moment, the invisible grip behind him wrenched him harder, dragging him deeper into an unseen void. He couldn’t breathe, and since he couldn’t die, this was nothing but plain torture for him.

Donovan’s survival instincts roared to life, and he fought to resist the overpowering pull. He strained against the chains since he couldn’t break it, muscles taut and shaking, but with each futile struggle, his legs felt as though they were being sucked into a dense, cloying mire. He soon realized that he had no strength here.

Just as the suffocating pressure reached its peak, the relentless pull finally ceased, whilst he coughed from the effect. Silence throbbed in the void, but it was broken by an unfamiliar voice slithered through the darkness – smooth, cold, and eerily gentle, as though laced with malice disguised as comfort.

"Do you recall why you loathe them, Donovan?" the voice coiled around him like a serpent ready to strike. "They made you suffer, and abandoned you in your own torment, forced your hands to kill the only one who sought peace — your mother. They filled your people with such fear that surrendering to the curse was their only escape. Don’t be a fool. Will you blindly forsake the justice owed to your mother because of some woman?"

A question burned deeply at Donovan’s throat, a desperate urge to demand who had trespassed his mind. Yet the chains constricted his voice, denying him the relief of speech. He was left with no choice but to submit, to endure the voice that spoke with an insidious authority.

"You’re suppressing your powers for the very people who cast shadows over your life, who sowed seeds of misery," the voice hissed with venomous disappointment. "I expected more from you after your awakening. To think you were a little bit close to giving in to your curse on that night, but then you met that woman, and she took away everything I worked hard to achieve from you. If you hadn’t met her at all, you’d be a demon right now."

Donovan’s breath hitched at the unexpected reminder. That night, when he came across Esme at the inn. He had come close to surrendering to his curse due to his anger, his pain, including the amount of people he slaughtered that night. But then, he felt the mate pull, and if he hadn’t found Esme at the nick of time, he would have been turned into one of those demons.

"Do you think your sacrifice can inspire change in those people who wanted and still want you dead?" The voice snapped him out of his reverie, and it sliced through him a cold, relentless ache that lodged deep in his bones.

Within that suffocating abyss, echoes of his own doubts and embittered memories swarmed, twisting and circling back at him like specters of accusation. They whispered insistently, a chorus of torment that seared his mind, telling him he would be a fool to forgive. His inner child was not at peace, vengeance still burned within him despite his wish to forget about everything.

But... could he really forget?

"Who... who are you?" The words fell from his lips, barely more than a whisper, as the suffocating darkness seemed to thrum with life. Suddenly, a presence crept closer, its nearness sending an icy chill across his skin.

He felt someone’s cold fingers brush against his face, the touch leaving a trail of fire across his skin. The dark runes on his body seemed to pulse from that one touch, and a painful, agonizing light tore through those marks.

The touch was inescapable, a prison in itself, and as he struggled against the burning pain, the presence leaned forward, his voice cold and silken as he whispered, "You belong here, with me. Do you not recall the deal we made fifteen years ago? How could you forget so easily? Our deal was not so trivial to be cast aside, yet that’s not all you’ve forgotten. I fulfilled a desperate wish of yours, and I’m here to claim what was owed.

"Liar!" Donovan spat, rage flaring even as his body quaked beneath the relentless chains. "You’re the cause of everything that’s happening! You and my father are the ones who ruined me! Till this day, I’m always wondering why we are the ones who have to pay dearly for the sins you committed!"

"I saved your pitiful life!" the voice responded in a menacing tone. "If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead! Without the curse do you really think you have a chance of living?! I’m the one who keeps prolonging your life span, cause without me, you might already be dead!"

The tug suddenly returned, brutal and unforgiving. "This is proof of our contract. Since we share blood, I will not destroy you. As my kin, that gives you the privilege to live, but under my rules. We will become one and lay waste to Illyria. We will bring down kingdoms and rule the four regions as sovereigns. We will make everyone pay for their sins against us! Stop resisting and give in already!"

"Get away from me!"

"There’s no point in resisting," the voice uttered in a low, composed tone. "I’m here to help you. But if you defy me, I’ll be forced to hurt you. And let’s not pretend this is a new revelation – you’ve long desired this confrontation, haven’t you? I tried to go easy on you, but now, your defiance is getting in the way of that."

The cursed runes etched across Donovan’s suddenly skin ignited in a searing blaze, and their dark energy pulsed like firebrands. His heart thundered in his chest, and each beat was accompanied by a wave of weakness that rippled through his body. It felt as if the presence looming before him had siphoned away his strength.

It was feeding on his turmoil and reawakening a smoldering fury from the ashes of his past. He wanted to break free, but there was no escape.

’What do I do?’ he thought to himself.

"What do you want from me?" He demanded, his voice wavering between defiance and dread.

He felt the air shift ominously when the presence moved closer, and it whispered, "To take over your body, what else?"

Suddenly, Donovan’s blindfold slipped from his eyes, and the vision before him sent a jolt through his core. There, in the suffocating gloom of a dungeon, sat a boy who had taken off his blindfold. He looked gaunt and battered, whilst the boy’s hollow eyes stared blankly, distant and void of any spark of life. Yet, Donovan needed no further confirmation, he knew this child was him.

The void had shifted, taking him to a certain night he spent in the dungeon. The younger Donovan sat with his back against the cold wall, his fingers scrawling frantic, jagged lines across the surface of the stone floor. Dirt clung to his skin, mingling with patches of dried blood that cracked over his tattered clothing.

His bandaged abdomen stood out, a brutal reminder of the day they had split him open, searching for any source of his unnatural resilience while he begged them to stop.

The air thickened with the weight of memory, pulling Donovan back into the torment of that time. This memory didn’t seem quite clear in his head, and before he could catch his breath, the younger version of himself parted his cracked lips and began to chant a dark poem – the sound both hollow and chilling, slicing through the silence like a knife.

"In the dark where silence breeds,

I carve the names my vengeance needs.

One by one, they’re set in stone,

A dirge for sins long unknown

Blood for blood and fire for fire,

Echoes call my grim desire.

Eyes so hollow, heart so still

Easy to tell even without seeing

Counting souls that fate will chill

When shadows writhe and time grows thin

I’ll rise again, and they shall not win

Bones will break and thrones will fall

Names forgotten, I’ll claim them all

Mercy wanes as daylight fades

Promises sealed in whispered lies

Mark them now, let terror bloom

For they shall hear their reaper’s tune"

He stopped writing down the names, and Donovan’s eyes fell on a particular name amongst the list carved on stone.

Esmeray