Chapter 94 The Rose and the Snake 34
The oppressive atmosphere in the master bedroom of Malfoy Manor did not dissipate as the night progressed. Instead, it became even more eerie against the backdrop of the pale flames dancing in the fireplace.
The air was filled with the sweetness of honey, the cool fragrance of roses, and a faint scent of sulfur belonging to dark magic.
Abraxas Malfoy was still trapped in the drowsy nightmare brought about by the truth serum-mutated love poison and the serious injury. His face alternated between pale and sickly red, and his breathing was weak and rapid.
Occasionally, he would spasm unconsciously, and broken syllables would escape from his throat, as if he was still secretly fighting with the Horcrux in his dream.
Voldemort did not leave.
He sat silently in the high-backed chair by the fireplace, like a poisonous snake lurking in the shadows.
The handsome face was half bright and half dark in the firelight, and turbulent waves were surging in the depths of his scarlet pupils.
The ecstasy had long since cooled, replaced by cold vigilance and a hint of foolish rage.
The locations of the Horcruxes that Abraxas revealed in his sleep—the crown, the golden cup, the diary, the locket—were all so accurate that it was frightening! This couldn't be a coincidence.
He pondered over every detail: the mutation of the truth serum, Rose's physical gag, the secrets "leaked" by the other party in his coma, and the final provocative "the brand is cold"...all of this exuded a carefully designed, disturbing sense of weirdness!
This Malfoy is by no means as helpless as he appears! He is like a carefully woven spider web, and every seemingly fragile node may be connected to a deadly trap! Are the locations of those Horcruxes...real bait? Or are they coordinates that lead him to destruction?
[Ding! Mission accomplished! Pleasure value +15% (Love Gu?), current: 45%. Synchronization rate: 75%. Pain reversal warm-up: 30%.] *System prompts a cold taunt.
Voldemort rubbed the new thorn brand on his left wrist, the burning pain a reminder of the uncontrolled pleasure he had felt last night. Killing intent and a twisted sense of concern tore at him.
Outside the door, Clarice Black's frantic curse pierced the dead silence: "...Burn everything...die together...my brother-in-law is mine!"
Boredom just set in——
"boom!!!"
Explosions and flames tore through the living room! Smoke poured in!
Clarice laughed shrilly: "Burn it! Turn it all to ashes!"
Hell has arrived! A heat wave crashed against the master bedroom door. Voldemort, enraged, swung his wand, and a cold barrier enveloped the bed. Abraxas shuddered amidst the heat and smoke, his brand pulsing dark red as he sank into a nightmare: "Fire... Orion... Don't go..."
Orion? Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
In the distorted light and shadow, a pale female figure with marks of strangulation around her neck emerged silently on the obsidian mirror opposite the bed.
The ghost of Orion Barnold stared at Abraxas.
The moment the vengeful spirit appeared, the brand on Abraxas' chest began to beat wildly.
The projection of the dark red dagger with thorny snake patterns deep in the mark suddenly emitted a cold light.
"The brand... is cold..." Abraxas scratched his chest unconsciously, "... Your Excellency... do you believe it... that the only thing that can kill... the Dark Lord... is... love..."
"Love?!" Voldemort felt as if an icicle had pierced his skull! Prophecy!
[The one who will kill you in the future!] 99.9% compatible with the God-killing Dagger!
The rage and absurd chill completely devoured reason!
He stepped to the bedside, and with his bloody left hand, he grasped Abraxas' neck like an iron clamp and lifted him up!
Suffocation makes the dying person bend over in pain!
"Abu, wake up! Look at me!" Voldemort roared, his pupils dilated wildly. "Is the prophecy true?! Is the dagger in the brand going to kill me?! Answer me!!!"
The suffocating pain dragged Abraxas out of the abyss, and his gray-blue pupils focused with difficulty on Voldemort's distorted face.
Flames crackled, throats gurgled, and the demonic questioning was deafening.
The brand on the chest was as painful as tearing the soul, and the dagger projection was as sharp as substance.
At the moment of death, the cold silver-gray magic (detonator) that was embedded in Voldemort's wrist last night was activated!
"Ugh..." Abraxas hissed in his throat, and his bloody fingertips did not break the hand that was pinching Voldemort's neck. Instead, he resolutely covered the burning thorn brand on Voldemort's left wrist again!
Cold touches heat—
“Buzz——!!!”
The terrifying tremor that erupted from deep within the soul connection passed through both of them like a high-voltage electric current!
Voldemort's hand on his neck trembled violently! From the core of the mark, a tsunami of extreme pain and icy resonance swept over his rage.
The red pupils were blurred, as if they could see the deeper darkness behind the projection of the dagger.
Absaxaxas pressed the dagger projection at the core of the brand with his fingertips, and the shattering sound was like a poisoned ice blade:
"Kill... me?... You... should... ask... it... first..."
"…Are you…reluctant…to let…this…only…place…that…can…touch…your…soul…go…cold…?"
“Ugh—!!!”
The vicious curse mixed with the soul tremor and the resonance of the brand detonated the love pleasure and possessiveness that had been suppressed to the extreme.
Voldemort's will collapsed, and the hand that was strangling his neck loosened as if it was burned.
He retreated violently and hit the wall, his left hand tightly covering the torn mark, his red eyes trembling and bleeding with pain, pleasure and humiliation.
Abraxas lay in bed, choking and coughing. The purple marks on his neck were glaring. His gray-blue eyes reflected Voldemort's embarrassment, and the corners of his mouth were raised in a cold and weak arc.
"Crash!" The master bedroom window exploded under the flames! Scorching hot air and scarlet rain poured in!
A ghostly elf, CC, clung to the window frame! Within its murky green eyes, two balls of crimson light blazed like a furnace! At its core, a giant python totem, composed of crimson magic and entwined with black thorns, danced and roared wildly, emitting an ancient, violent aura!
CC's greedy gaze was fixed on the projection of Orion's vengeful spirit in the mirror!
"Hiss!!" A piercing hiss! The Thorn Python Totem made a clear swallowing motion! An invisible suction enveloped the mirror!
“Whoosh!” The mirror shook violently! The vengeful spirit screamed silently, distorting and blurring. Threads of cold resentful energy were forcibly extracted and rushed towards CC, being greedily devoured by the scarlet python.
The totem solidified and expanded visibly, and its pressure solidified the air.
Where the vengeful spirit's energy was lost, the mirror was suddenly covered with wildly growing, dew-covered white rose buds.
The poisonous roses spread like a plague on the walls, floors, and burning curtains. The strong sweet fragrance and poisonous fishy smell filled the air. The buds bloomed and the blue venom flowed.
Voldemort pressed his back against the cold wall, his left hand pressing hard on the mark that was tearing his soul apart, his scarlet pupils on the verge of bursting from the multiple impacts.
Abraxas reflected the poisonous rose, CC devouring the vengeful spirits, the dancing totem, and Voldemort's unprecedented collapsed posture, and the curve of his mouth deepened.
Under the pressure of the poisonous incense and totem, the brand on his chest suddenly erupted with a dazzling bloody light! The projection of the thorny snake-patterned dagger deep in the brand was as solid as a real thing.
At the tip, a ray of pure to the extreme...silver-gray cold light, like the eye of a poisonous snake, suddenly lit up.
Deep within the brand, icy fragments of thought forcefully penetrated consciousness:
"...The blade... is... already... poisoned... The... time... is... on... you..."
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