CHAPTER 12: VAMPIRE VS PSYCHIC


    The air split apart with a soundless scream, a force beyond the mortal world shattering the sigils at Elizabeth’s feet.


    The monks gasped, staggered, their bodies disintegrating where they stood, the ancient magic they had woven unraveling in an instant. The Ravenholm family reeled, clutching their heads as the walls of the great hall shook violently, the towering pillars cracking as though some great, unseen hand was crushing them from above.


    And in the center of it all, Elizabeth rose.


    Her chains burst apart, the silver turning to dust as a wave of psychic fury exploded outward. The wind howled inside the hall, but it was no earthly gale—it was a storm of memory, of rage, of pain long buried now breaking free.


    Visions burned across her mind.


    Her mother stood before her, bathed in golden light, her soft smile tinged with sorrow. Victor, his crimson coat whipping in the spectral wind, looked at her not with arrogance, but with something softer—something real. The Twins, inseparable, yet now broken, Evie’s absence a wound in Eve’s soul. Annabelle, Theo, James—they had all fought for her, suffered for her, bled for her.


    No more.


    Her eyes snapped open, glowing a deep, searing blue, and when she spoke, her voice was not just her own—it was something greater, something vast, something final.


    "You will not hurt me or my family."


    The light behind her became blinding, shadows cast from nothing stretching along the walls like reaching hands. The Ravenholms screamed as their flesh peeled from their bones, their bodies disintegrating into dust, their wails devoured by the storm.


    Only two remained.


    Gothetta.


    Eriel.


    Elizabeth descended, her feet touching the cracked floor as the last embers of her power still burned around her.


    She lifted her hand—Eriel staggered back.


    Her voice echoed, not just in the room, but through the castle itself, into the very fabric of the Ravenholm name.


    "I will judge you with my power!"


    The moment Eriel roared his command, reality fractured.


    "HOLY DIVER!"


    The world around them shuddered, but something went wrong.


    A terrible silence fell.


    The flames in the ruined marriage hall froze mid-flicker. The dust and debris hung motionless in the air. The howling winds of Elizabeth’s fury ceased. The very breath in their lungs stilled, trapped in a moment that refused to pass.


    Then, the hall was no longer the hall.


    They stood in a void—a liminal place, neither dark nor light, neither real nor illusion. The air itself was thick and silver, as though reality had melted and pooled into something half-formed.


    Eriel’s eyes darted around. His lips curled in confusion. He clenched his hand, willing Holy Diver to move—to act, to strike, to end this in an instant.


    But nothing happened.


    His power—the gift that had made him unstoppable, the force that had let him bend fate to his will—was silent.


    Elizabeth exhaled.


    For the first time, she felt it. The weight of his power was gone. The crushing force pinning her down, forcing her to kneel, was nothing but an echo.


    Eriel snarled. He understood now.


    This was not his world. This was not her world. This was a place beyond time itself—where no future could be rewritten, where no instant could be stolen.


    They were equals.


    Elizabeth’s fists tightened. She could fight back.


    Eriel bared his fangs, his crimson cloak billowing in a wind that did not exist. He drew his hand back, fingers curling into claws. Shadows coalesced around him, the last remnants of his unnatural power clawing at the edges of this frozen battlefield.


    Elizabeth stepped forward, her eyes burning with the same blue fire that had shattered the Ravenholm curse. Her mind stretched outward—she would not hold back.


    They had no choice.


    They lunged.


    Their clash sent a shockwave tearing through the stillness.


    Elizabeth dodged left, pivoted—Eriel’s strike carved through the silver mist, missing her by inches. She countered—her mind seized the very fabric of this place, twisting it, hurling a lance of raw psychic force.


    Eriel caught it midair, crushed it in his palm.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    His laughter echoed like a fractured bell.


    "You think this changes anything?"


    Elizabeth didn’t answer. She closed the distance, fast as lightning. Her fist collided with his ribs, the impact sending a crack through the timeless void. Eriel reeled back, but twisted with unnatural grace, his cloak whipping through the nothingness as he spun and drove his knee into her stomach.


    The force sent her hurtling through space.


    She twisted mid-air, caught herself, and snapped her fingers. The space between them shattered like glass, and a hundred shards of pure psychic energy rained upon him.


    Eriel gritted his teeth, flicked his wrist—the shards reversed mid-flight.


    Elizabeth’s own attack turned on her.


    She threw up a barrier, the shards ricocheting in every direction, carving rifts in the silver air. She landed, skidding backward, her boots barely making a sound in the timeless abyss.


    Eriel wiped a streak of blackened blood from his lips. His expression was no longer amused.


    "Enough of this!"


    He swept his arm out, and the battlefield itself warped—the void twisted, the silver mist churned like a living thing.


    Elizabeth felt it—a rift trying to open. He was still trying to control fate.


    She wouldn’t let him.


    She clenched her fists, her power surging. The silver void trembled, and the illusions he tried to weave fell apart like rotted thread.


    Eriel snarled.


    Elizabeth smiled.


    "You''re afraid."


    Eriel lunged.


    Elizabeth met him mid-strike.


    Their final battle had begun.


    The silver void quaked beneath their power.


    Elizabeth and Eriel stood opposite each other, bodies glowing like dying stars, the very air humming with psychic energy. Their minds clashed in unseen battles, raw force warping the void, ripping it apart and rebuilding it at the same time.


    Eriel''s eyes burned crimson, his power flaring like an inferno. He raised his hand, and from the emptiness, black chains erupted—twisting, writhing, lunging for Elizabeth''s throat.


    Elizabeth thrust her hand forward, and the chains froze midair. She clenched her fingers, and they snapped into dust.


    Eriel snarled, raising both arms, summoning an onslaught of pure force—a hurricane of dark, malevolent power. The storm rushed toward her, tendrils of void-born destruction tearing the space apart.


    Elizabeth''s mind sharpened. She reached deep within, beyond fear, beyond pain—she became the storm. With a single thought, she redirected his attack, the roaring tempest swirling around her like a vortex before launching back at Eriel.


    Eriel barely had time to react—the energy struck him head-on, sending him hurtling through the void.


    Elizabeth did not stop. She shot forward like a comet, her form a blur of blue fire and psychic might. She swung her arm, a wave of power crashing against him.


    Eriel caught it midair, his teeth bared. He countered with a pulse of raw willpower, sending a concussive blast rippling outward.


    The void cracked.


    Elizabeth charged again.


    Eriel met her.


    They moved faster than thought, striking and counter-striking, blows that shattered the silence of this frozen dimension.


    They struck with their minds, with their wills, with power drawn from the very fabric of reality itself. Every collision sent shockwaves rippling through the abyss, each attack ripping open rifts into nothingness.


    Eriel roared, launching a final, devastating blow—a maelstrom of dark energy, warping everything in its path.


    Elizabeth threw herself into it, cutting through the darkness, parting it like a blade through water.


    And then—they clashed fists.


    For a moment, everything froze.


    The silver void shattered.


    Eriel’s form splintered, cracks racing across his body like fractured glass. His mouth opened, but no words came—only the sound of his own existence breaking apart.


    He reached out, his fingers trying to hold onto something, but there was nothing left to grasp.


    Then—he crumbled into nothingness.


    Time resumed.


    The ruined marriage hall reappeared in a blink, fire and destruction once again in motion.


    The silence was broken by a scream of grief.


    Gothetta.


    She stood among the wreckage, her pale hands clenched at her sides, her eyes locked onto the space where Eriel had stood. Her breath hitched, once, twice—then a raw, piercing wail tore from her throat.


    Elizabeth took a step forward, bracing herself, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.


    "Where are Annabelle, Theo, and James?"


    Gothetta’s gaze snapped to her.


    Her expression twisted—rage, pain, madness.


    "You took everything from me."


    The air sizzled.


    Elizabeth barely had time to react before lightning erupted from Gothetta’s body—a colossal bolt of pure electric wrath exploding outward, shattering what remained of the castle.


    The world went white.


    The deafening roar of destruction swallowed everything. Walls crumbled. Stone turned to dust. The sky itself seemed to crack.


    Elizabeth threw up a barrier, her psychic shield holding back the onslaught. Debris slammed against her shield, the sheer force sending her skidding backward. Heat and light engulfed everything.


    Then—silence.


    The dust settled.


    Elizabeth opened her eyes.


    The Ravenholm Estate was gone.


    Nothing remained but smoldering ruins and drifting embers.


    She took a shaky breath, then another.


    She looked around—Gothetta was nowhere to be seen. Victor. Gone. Eve. Gone.


    She stood alone.


    Then—she felt it.


    The sunlight.


    The golden rays of dawn kissed her skin, and for the first time in centuries, she felt warmth.


    She begins to search the ruins, looking for her family.


    The Ravenholm curse was lifted.


    The End.