Could it be, do we really have to fight our way in?
Just as Luo En was feeling a bit troubled, Tiamat in his arms struggled to get up.
Through the world barrier, she sensed something and looked towards a certain place on the eastern bank of the Tigris River, murmuring:
"A call, someone is calling my... Divine Name."
In a certain luxurious palace, a graceful figure sat in front of the dressing table, looking at herself in the mirror.
The woman in the mirror was beautiful, draped in a magnificent robe primarily of black and purple hues, the hem adorned with golden patterns, like a star river flowing through the night. Her long black hair cascaded down to her waist like a waterfall, entwined with snake-shaped gold ornaments, her dark red eyes exuding a captivating majesty. Her porcelain-like pale skin contrasted sharply with her dark attire, and her slender fingers bore rings embedded with gemstones, her nails painted dark purple. The dark golden crown atop her head had a three-tiered structure, each carved with snakes, thorns, and cuneiform script.
With the independent and slow rotation of the crown, fine shadows were cast, enveloping that beautiful face.
As if a delicious dish were covered with a lid, to prevent the escape of heat and flavor, waiting for the day someone would uncover and taste it.
This is the privilege of the victor.
The woman in front of the dressing table snorted with a single chuckle, propping up her smooth chin with one hand, leaning back on the chair, and narrowed her long eyes slightly, gazing at the pomegranate flowers in the vase losing their color, withering and decaying, she couldn’t help but be lost in thought.
From youth to prosperity, from prosperity to decay, and finally back to withering and silence, just like the love people speak of.
The man who loved her not long ago, was a haggard old man, an old General of this country.
Like most marriages, he favored her beauty, offered a bridal gift, and her guardian betrothed her to him.
Fortunately, the old man was fairly upright, or perhaps due to his advanced age, he had no desire for indulgence, and thus did not force her to do anything. He told her that as long as she sent him off in his final moments, that would be enough. He even laughed and said that the dances and songs she learned to please men could be sung and danced to her heart’s content whenever she liked.
This should be a kind of peaceful "love," right?
However, when an aging lion finds a delicious prey, the ending is extremely tragic.
Because he has long lost the ability to guard his prey, instead, he would invite disaster.
Thus, the young King of this country, under the pretense of love at first sight, snatched her from the old man’s hands, saying he wanted to take her as his concubine.
The young King had once said with a smile that it would be fun to see her surrender, and then watch as her face twisted with regret.
This should be a kind of fervent "love," right?
Only, before she could surrender, break down, the old lion, humiliated at having his prey taken, ended his life prematurely.
This forced the young King to postpone savoring the delicacy and first clean up the mess left by the old man.
But by tonight, the young lion would probably return to the palace and devour this prize.
From here on, her life would be spent amid men’s fights and scorn, wasting away the remaining time.
The woman shook her head listlessly, moved to the bedside, lifted the bedding, and bit her fingertip, sketching out the final stroke of a magic circle diagram on the bedboard.
She had to admit, she was very good at learning.
Apart from skills like dance, songs, makeup, and cooking to please men, she also mastered some ancient magic by perusing old scrolls.
"Bashum, the winged serpent, beloved son of Mother Goddess Tiamat, the fierce poison of the world. With blood as the medium, with the name as the sacrifice, I beseech your spirit to descend here, to devour my enemies."
Accompanied by a low chant, the woman used a hairpin to cut open her palm, clutching the bleeding fist, she stood in the center of the magic circle diagram, offering her only possession and most precious sacrifice for this summoning.
Become a plaything for men to fight over, and then die without a shred of dignity?
If this were her future fate, then she’d rather join those abhorrent magic beasts, making her future end in a grand finale.
Of course, if she had to find a reason for doing this.
Perhaps it was because her first husband, that old man, treated her fairly well...
Avenging him would make them even.
As her blood and vitality continued to drain, the woman felt dizzy and lightheaded.
Seeing the magic circle diagram remain inactive, a trace of doubt appeared in her eyes.
It doesn’t make sense; merely summoning a spirit of the "Eleven Magical Beasts" as a familiar shouldn’t consume this much.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gemstones in the dressing table and jewelry boxes shattered one by one, the exquisite indoor plants withered and decayed, and large amounts of forcibly converted magic power surged into the magic circle diagram, reflecting a deep black-red color.
The woman’s face changed drastically.
No, the magic array is out of control!
Instinctively, she wanted to erase the magic array on the bedboard to interrupt the summoning ritual.
However, it was too late.
A man and a woman used this as a gateway, forcing their way through boundless darkness and chaos into the room.
A fierce magic power storm erupted from the out-of-control magic circle diagram, instantly sweeping through the entire hall.
After a long time, the woman staggered to her feet from the debris.
She glanced at the contract mark appearing on the back of her hand, feeling a certain constraint within it, her face instantly expressing her despair.
I wanted to find a familiar, not become one!
At this moment, a gentle but authoritative voice echoed in her ear:
"Where is this? What’s your name?"
"Assyrian Royal Capital Nineveh, my name is — Semiramis."
The woman blurted out, looking ruefully and sullenly at the man and woman who suddenly appeared in her room.