Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Morathi's displeasure was usually fatal, but Alandrian walked up the steps of Anlek's palace with composure.

He had indeed failed to capture or kill the mysterious Shadow King, yet he had come closer than anyone had in the past six years. Not foolish enough to think that Morathi would simply forgive his failure, he had devised a new plan that would not only capture the elusive rebel, but would also serve as a part of his atonement. He had even gone so far as to boldly request an audience with the Queen, rather than waiting for her to summon him.

Entering the throne room, Alaindrion was stunned by the smile on Morathi's face. Morathi sat in a chair beside Aenarion's great throne, clad in a loose robe of white fur and black silk, her bare arms and legs looking especially pale in the light. Morathi's demeanor was approachable, but this open attitude disturbed him more than the scowl.

He could feel the dark magic crawling across his skin, blurry shapes seemed to flicker at the edge of his vision, and he could vaguely hear whispers and low, mocking voices in his ears. He suppressed a trembling and tried his best to ignore these temptations and provocations and focus on the queen in front of him.

"My Queen, I apologize for not being able to capture the rebel who has troubled your mind lately."

"Stand up." Morathi's tone was neither cold nor friendly. Then, she continued in the same flat tone, "We can waste a lot of time and let me list your failures one by one. But... can we assume that this conversation has gone as we expected, and now let's move on to the second stage?"

Alandrian felt a pang of fear. Wouldn't he have a chance to defend himself? Perhaps he had overestimated his position and influence.

Morathi ignored Alandrian and stood up, waving to several figures lurking in the shadows of the hall.

Three warlocks, two women and one man, the famous trio, Drusala, Ashnir, and Malchior (Chapters 308 and 309), walked out of the dim corner. They were dressed in dark purple robes, and their skin was covered with traces of ancient runes. These runes made Alandrian's teeth ache. He had never felt comfortable with magic, and this ability seemed too dangerous to him.

"These are my three most promising apprentices, Alandrian," Morathi said, walking briskly towards the prince, followed closely by the warlocks.

Alandrian swallowed, his eyes moving back and forth between Morathi's seductive eyes and the sorcerers' cold gazes. Morathi stopped in front of him and raised a finger to gently press his lips. He felt a surge of energy from Morathi's fingertips spread throughout his body, stirring his heartbeat and awakening the desire that had been buried deep in his heart since his wife's death.

"Silence, Prince, and let me finish." Morathi's voice was as soft as velvet, a gentle caress. "You have another plan to capture the Shadow King, correct? If I am kind and generous enough to give you another chance, is that correct?"

Alaindrien dared not speak, but nodded woodenly, unable to reason between the dark magic that permeated his senses and the intoxicating presence of Morathi. He trembled uncontrollably, caught between desire and fear, both emotions arising from the same cause.

"very good!"

Morathi said, stepping back, crossing her arms over her perfect chest, resting her weight on one leg, her smooth thigh exposed at the slit of her robe. Alandrian forced himself to keep his eyes on her equally charming face, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch her alluring skin.

"I am not known for my kindness or generosity, but I will not be stingy with someone who has been so favored by my son and has given so much to the cause of Nagarythe. Your past actions and loyalty far surpass those of my other subjects. Although you have recently suffered a setback, you can still rest assured for the time being, because you have also been favored by me."

After Morathi's magical influence dissipated, Alandrian regained his sanity and was about to express his gratitude with tears of gratitude, but was stopped by Morathi's slight shake of her head.

"Don't be servile, it's beneath your dignity."

She waved her arms and turned around, her long black hair swirling around her shoulders like a dark cloud. She walked back to her chair, her waist swaying dizzily. Alandrian had to turn his eyes away until she sat down again and regained her noble and majestic demeanor, then he dared to look at her again.

"Tell me, how can my loyal servants assist you in achieving your goals?"

"We no longer have any bait to lure the Shadow King into a trap. If we want to kill this scorpion, we must find his lair and drag him out from the tail."

Alandrian said confidently, his mind still a little confused by Morathi's actions, but he was glad that he had been fully prepared for these words.

"I agree, so how do you find him when thousands of others have failed?"

"I've studied his raids in depth, and at first they seem random, without rhyme or reason. But there's a pattern to them, a pattern I've seen before," Alandrian explained.

"Really? What did you find?" Morathi asked with interest as she leaned forward slightly and stroked her delicate chin with her hand.

"I am a hunter in Elsing Arwen, where game is plentiful in the forests. Some chase boars, others prefer deer, but I am not interested in either of those. I prefer to hunt creatures that also hunt. If I can outwit the hunter at the hunter's game, I will truly prove myself."

"This is a quality I greatly admire at this moment. Please continue."

"The Shadow King hunts like a wolf, hard to detect but there it is. Nagarythe is his territory, and he patrols it regularly, leaving his mark in one area before moving on to the next.

In any given year, he could strike anywhere, but for six years, his intentions have been known to me. After his next strike, we will know where he has been, and more importantly, where he will move to. We will strike quickly and catch him by surprise.”

"This all sounds valuable, so what do you need me to do?" Morathi asked.

"Nagarys is too large, and even your warlocks can't cover the entire area with divination, especially when looking for a constantly moving target. I can only roughly estimate that the Shadow King may appear in a certain area, but this range is too large to search using conventional means without being noticed by him. So, with my theory, combined with the ability of one of your warlocks, we should be able to accurately find the Shadow King's location."

"So, once you know where he is, what are you going to do?" Morathi leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"If you will allow me to demonstrate, Your Majesty?"

After receiving Morathi's nod of permission, Alandrian left the hall, and returned a moment later with two elves.

They were two women, who looked almost identical, like twins. They wore golden breastplates and arm guards inlaid with rubies, and the runes on them shone like blood. Their hair was pulled into long braids, tied up with a headband made of tendons and bones. The masks were painted blood-red, and bright eyes stared coldly at the outside world from behind the masks.

They carried a large number of weapons, with several daggers on their belts and boots, two long swords hanging from their waists, and pairs of scimitars slung across their backs. Their boots and fingerless gloves were inlaid with spikes and blades, and their fingers were covered with rings with gilded iron claws.

"Two of the most promising slayers, I introduce you to my precious daughters, Lyris and Hellebron." Alandrian announced with a proud smile.

This was the second time Morathi had seen Hellebron, but just as she had said to Hellebron when they parted the first time, she had long forgotten Hellebron's name, so much so that when Hellebron stood in front of her the second time, she did not recognize her. She stood up and walked forward with an admiring look on her face, and after carefully looking at Alandrian's daughter, she nodded with satisfaction.

"Well, yes, they would indeed make excellent weapons, but you would need someone to guide them to their target," Morathi murmured, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Morathi turned and looked at her disciples, then motioned for one of the women to come forward.

The sorceress was shorter and slender than Alandrian's daughter, with dark hair that stopped at her shoulders. Her skin was even paler than Morathi's, with strands of silvery white streaked through her hair like frost, making her look like a winter elf. She looked at Lyris and Hellebron coldly, her lips pursed tightly, her eyes examining every detail.

"She is skilled in divination. If she gets close to her target, she will be able to find the Shadow King. Come forward, dear, and introduce yourself to the prince."

"I am honored to be of service to you, Prince Alandrian. My name is Ashnir." The sorceress stepped forward as she was told, nodding only slightly as a courtesy. Her voice was as cold as ice, matching her attitude.
-
Alandrian's plan succeeded, he successfully blocked the Shadow King, but...

Ashnir took a step forward and held out a hand. A shower of white shards flew from her fingertips and slashed at the shadow warriors, drops of frozen blood tinkled to the ground, the wind blew through flesh, skin froze blue at the slightest scrape, the bow fell from numb fingertips, and the arrow shattered in the air.

Under the cover of the rain of arrows, other shadow warriors rushed forward and fought hand-to-hand with the death witches. The crisp sound of iron hitting iron rang out, but the battle only lasted for a moment. Lyris bent down and quickly cut off the enemy's legs, while Hellebron swung her blade straight to the high ground and cut off all the heads she could reach.

When the battle was over, the field looked more like a slaughterhouse than a town square.

Lyris crouched down, flicked her wrist, and cut out the heart of one of her victims. She sheathed her other weapon and took the still-warm organ with her free hand. She pursed her lips, lifted the heart high, and squeezed hard, blood running down her arm and splashing onto her face.

"Praise Kane!" she screamed.

At this moment, there was a faint movement at the door.

A cloaked elf appeared, holding a silver bow. He was so fast that it was difficult for the naked eye to catch him. He quickly nocked an arrow and fired it. The arrow pierced Liris' throat and knocked Liris away from where she was, falling on the slippery stone road.

With a scream of pure rage, Hellebron leaped at her foe, sniping an arrow as it whistled towards her, and dodging another with a spinning leap that brought her close to her foe.

Her left hand swung out, her finger blade narrowly missing the enemy's face, and her right hand thrust with precision, stabbing a rapier into the enemy's ribs, the tip of the sword spurting blood from the enemy's right shoulder. Blood gushed from the enemy's mouth, and she drew her sword, spun around, and then cut off the enemy's head with one blow. After shaking the blood off the blade, she sheathed the weapon and took the ornate bow from the elf's dead hand. She turned and held the trophy to Alandrian, who clapped in appreciation.

"I thought it best to offer it as a gift to Morathi."

After Alandrian finished speaking, his eyes were attracted by two shadows fleeing on the roof.

Ashnir raised his hand, ready to cast another spell, but was stopped by Alandrian.

"Let them go, let them tell the others that the Shadow King is dead!"
-
Morathi half-lying and half-sitting on the sofa, her rapid breathing echoing in the empty room. The soft cushions could no longer bring her any comfort, and blood slowly seeped out from the bandage on her shoulder. Her face was pale and hideous, but her eyes were burning with blazing anger. Her hands were shaking violently as she pressed the ointment-covered cloth on the wound, but she could not hide the anger in her heart.

The scene of Hellebron coming with her claws waving kept appearing in her mind, haunting her like a nightmare.

"HELLEBONE!"

She suddenly let out a piercing scream and threw the ointment in her hand to the ground. The ointment scattered everywhere was like her uncontrollable anger. She suddenly grabbed the wine glass on the table and slammed it against the wall. The crisp sound of breaking echoed in the empty room for a long time, and the wine and debris were mixed all over the floor.

"Bitch, bitch! Dirty bastard!"

She roared, as if the echo of Hellebron's roar still lingered in the air.

"My face! My pride! How dare you tarnish it? You should have been the one to die, you should have been torn to pieces alive, you should have been thrown into the Fire of Khaine and burned! How dare you lay your hands on me? Who the hell are you! Sooner or later I will let you know what regret is! I will peel off your skin and throw you into the Fire of Khaine and burn you to ashes!"

Read more latest popular novels at 6.9*shuba!

She panted, put her hands on the edge of the table, her anger had not yet subsided, and then she let out a shrill laugh.

"And you, Alandrian!"

Her words were full of sarcasm and resentment.

"You are a loser! What are you good for? A hunter? A wolf hunter? What's the result? What did you catch? The Shadow King shot and killed Sulefit right in front of me! My friend! My pride! Not even a corpse is left! You still dare to call yourself a hunter? You are not worthy of carrying a knife, you are not even worthy of carrying shoes! Ah!"

She slammed her fist on the table, almost breaking it. Her eyes were filled with hatred and madness, and her teeth were chattering.

"Aris!"

She screamed, her voice cutting through the silence of the room like a knife.

"You think you can win this fight by shooting my mount? You think you can hide in the shadows forever? I will find you no matter where you hide! I will peel off your skin, tear apart your bones, and make you live in pain every second!"

Her breathing became more and more rapid, and the flames of anger almost burned away her sanity. Then, she slammed her fist into the wall, and blood oozed from her knuckles. Her voice suddenly became lower, but it was an even colder anger, as deep as hell. She turned around, her eyes seemed to be able to penetrate time and space, pointing directly at a figure far away in the horizon who dared not show up.

"Ashniel!"

She yelled the name angrily, as if the two syllables themselves were some kind of curse.

"It seems that you still love Aris? You are a piece of trash! You can't even complete a simple reconnaissance mission! I gave you opportunities, resources, and even my trust, but what about you? The only thing you brought to me is failure!"

She kicked the chair next to her hard, and the sharp impact echoed in the room.

"My enemy is right before my eyes, and you can't even catch his shadow! You still dare to call yourself the best warlock I trained? You are nothing but useless trash!"

She panted and gritted her teeth, her voice full of sarcasm and contempt.

"Do you think you can feel at ease standing in my shadow? Just because I taught you a few spells, you think you are an omnipotent high-level warlock? You can't even catch the Shadow King, or even detect his breath. Are you worthy of my gift?"

Her hands clenched suddenly and her eyes were full of hatred.

"From today on, you'd better pray that your incompetence won't hold me back again. Otherwise... even those failed soldiers will be more valuable than you! Listen, Ashniel, you've squandered my last bit of patience!"

She pressed her hands heavily on the table, her voice as cold as a knife.

"I don't want an explanation, nor an excuse, nor a reason for failure! Next time, if you dare to disappoint me, I will personally teach you what fear is!"

But in her rage, Morathi forgot that Ashnir had died long ago, at the hands of Nagash...

"Darkius...Darkius!! Darkius!!!"

She uttered the name through gritted teeth, her voice rising suddenly with a flame of anger.

"You damn bastard! You little brat, you dare to ambush me, do you think you are sure of victory? Do you think you won? No, you just make me hate you more, hate you to the bone! I will make you regret being born into this world!"

Her eyes were red and her face looked like a madman.

Finally, her anger turned to her son, who was once her pride but now made her hate him.

"Malekis!"

She almost roared the name.

"You unfilial son! You! You actually indulged Dacus, you actually allowed all this to happen! My flesh and blood, my sweetheart! I am your mother, the one who brought you into this world, and you chose to betray me! Use me, play tricks on me? You are not worthy of sitting on that high and lofty throne! You betrayed your bloodline, you betrayed me! You will find that the price of betraying your mother with your own hands is more terrible than death!"

Morathi's body trembled, her face full of rage and pain. After venting, her voice gradually became lower, and only a faint roar echoed in the empty room, but the blazing fire in her eyes did not go out.

"I will make every one of you pay, every one of you!"

She turned around, pressed her hands to her chest, as if to suppress the anger that was about to tear her soul apart, and whispered through gritted teeth.

In a trance, she heard a low and long sound, like the hum of the undercurrent in the deep sea, or the whisper of the wind blowing through the cold wilderness. The sound entangled her like an invisible silk, smooth but difficult to break free. Her anger was not reduced, and her breathing was still rapid, but this sound was like a subtle force, plucking her heartstrings, pulling her from the edge of rage to a more complex emotion.

The air began to grow thicker, and the light in the room dimmed inexplicably. The candlelight flickered, as if the flame was being stroked by invisible fingers, jumping, but never extinguished.

Shadows began to spread from the corners of the wall, climbing up like living things, and gathered into looming figures. A soft but strange fragrance spread, sweet and intoxicating, with some kind of irresistible attraction, drilling into Morathi's nostrils, rushing straight into her mind, eroding her reason.

Her hands slipped from the table and she held onto the edge of the sofa, trying to steady her rapid breathing. Her heartbeat became strange, not a furious throb, but a deep rhythm, and every beat seemed to echo the gradually increasing whispers in the room. That sound was like an invisible piece of music, and every note struck deep into her heart, causing her anger to be gradually replaced by a more complex and deeper desire.

The shadows on the wall gradually condensed, vaguely transforming into soft and twisted shapes. Those shadows seemed to be dancing, and every inch of the lines were deliberately outlining the limits of human desire. It was an outline that could not be described in words, like a real person, but also like an illusion. It was infinitely attractive, but difficult to look directly at. They spoke silently, obviously without words, but conveyed a suggestive hum in the air, as if telling the secret of bliss and depravity.

Morathi's eyes began to blur, the flames of anger were devoured, and only some unspeakable desires were burning in her eyes. Her thoughts became blurred, and everything around her seemed to be shrouded in mist.

She raised her hand slightly, as if wanting to touch the twisting shadows, but froze the moment she touched them, hesitating but unable to really withdraw it... (End of this chapter)