To His Hell and Back-Chapter 513: Taken Away-II

Arabella’s anger erupted so violently that it felt as though the entire world itself had taken a breath in fear. The floor beneath them jerked with a force that stole the balance from every living thing in the castle. The tremors didn’t stop at the stone tiles; they spread outward, crawling up the walls, rattling old portraits, shaking chandeliers until their crystals clattered like frantic teeth.

Outside, in the cold night air, the guards and lingering servants stared up at the windows as the castle shuddered. A deep groan echoed from the foundations —an ancient wound in the stone splitting wider as dust rained down like ash. The old fissures that had remained harmless for years finally gave way, crumbling as if bowing in submission to Arabella’s wrath.

The servants who had accompanied Esme staggered wildly. Some clutched the walls, some clung to each other, but one by one they collapsed to their knees, unable to withstand the violent shaking beneath their feet. Their mouths trembled in prayer, fear, or both.

Only Esme remained standing.

But even she felt it.

Because the trembling wasn’t merely an effect of Arabella’s temper. No... it was something deeper, older, far more terrifying. The very fabric of the world seemed to quiver in response to Arabella— as though nature itself recognized her power and recoiled. Esme’s breath hitched in her throat. Her heart squeezed painfully.

This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t witchcraft.

This was something beyond her understanding.

A monster, she thought.

Not just powerful. Not just dangerous. A monster in human skin— yet one she could neither control nor kill.

Arabella’s voice cut through the chaos, as if it had been spoken from a frosty tongue, cold and unfeeling, "You?"

Her eyes were steady. The tremors rolled beneath her feet like obedient waves, but she herself did not move, not even a fraction of an inch. She stood at the very center of the destruction she was causing, and yet she held the poise of a queen whose throne could never be toppled.

Isaac had fallen long ago, hands gripping the wall so tightly his knuckles whitened. His breath came in shallow bursts as the castle groaned again, but through the terror he understood something with startling clarity: This wasn’t just rage.

This was the fury of someone trying to protect what little she loved.

And Esme had dared to threaten one of them.

Arabella stepped forward, each movement causing another ripple of power that rolled like thunder through the foundation of the castle. "You want to take away one of my own?" she asked, her voice low, smooth, and heavy with lethal promise.

Esme tried, desperately, to reassert her power. The blood at her fingertips rose again, drawn from her body with a speed that would’ve impressed even Morpheus. She shaped the red liquid into dozens of thin, glistening blades, sharp as needles, suspended in the trembling air like deadly crimson stars.

But the moment they formed, Arabella’s will crashed into them.

The blood needles quivered, then shrank, thinned, and curved sharply as if recognizing their true master. Esme’s eyes widened in horror as the magic slipped from her grasp like water sucked into the sand.

"No—" she gasped.

But she didn’t finish.

The crimson needles shot toward her with blistering speed.

The last thing Esme saw was the blurring red streaks and Arabella’s burning green eyes— eyes that no longer looked human, eyes that glowed with a different kind of wrath, enough to make the world itself tremble.

Pain followed, the type of pain that hurts even those who saw the scene from afar.

One nerve severed, then another, each puncture ripping a scream from her throat.

"AAAAAAAA!"

Her cry echoed through the shaking castle, a raw, piercing sound that sliced through stone and silence alike. The tremors subsided slightly at the sound, as though Arabella’s fury had been momentarily appeased, though the ground still pulsed with her lingering wrath.

The air around them hung heavy, electrified, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

"Let her take me."

The voice cut through the chaos with a strange, serene weight—so out of place amidst the trembling stones and the lingering echoes of Esme’s scream. Heads turned sharply. Isaac stiffened. Even the weakened servants on the floor dared to lift their gaze.

Cassius.

Still cloaked in Cassandra’s form, still kneeling in the blood-marked circle, face wet from the earlier rain— yet completely unafraid.

Arabella’s eyes snapped toward him, fury still trembling visibly through the air. Cassius met her gaze calmly, as if he had known from the moment this confrontation began that things would come to this.

He lowered himself until his forehead touched the ground, a servant’s submission— yet his voice carried something much heavier than obedience.

"Milady," he said softly, "if my presence brings harm to your standing with Lord Morpheus... then allow me to be taken. To the dungeons I will go, willingly, until the third test passes."

Arabella’s breath hitched. Because it wasn’t submission.

It was a message.

A quiet, desperate signal woven into the tone— a plea telling her not yet, reminding her that this wasn’t the moment to burn the castle to the ground, not while so many pieces of their plan were still in motion.

Cassius was offering himself as the sacrifice that would buy them time.

Her fingers curled inward with frustration.

"This isn’t only about my servant being dragged away," Arabella snapped, her voice cutting the air like a blade. "It is about you—" her eyes slashed toward Esme "—testing your limits with me. And I will not allow my servants to be removed under my own roof."

Esme let out a wet, tremulous laugh— the sound half delirious from pain, half drunk on arrogant triumph. "If... if you refuse to surrender that servant of yours..." She winced, pressing her sleeve against the blood gushing from her left eye. "Then you have left me no choice."

"Milady!" Cassius’s voice sharpened. A warning. A plea. A reminder.

He was begging her to think.

But anger had already swallowed the edge of reason.

"NO!" Arabella shouted back, turning on him with a ferocity that made even the trembling ground seem to flinch. She approached him in two sharp steps, her hand extending toward him with a fury so bright it glowed faintly at her fingertips.

"You want me to surrender to a woman who tries to strip me of authority? You want me to yield? Then you might as well place my head on the stake now."

Cassius cursed inwardly, though his expression stayed perfectly meek —Cassandra’s shy, dutiful face twisted into worry.

"A mere maid," he hissed under his breath, "is not worth the trouble."

The moment those words left his lips, Arabella’s gaze changed.

Her green eyes narrowed— razor sharp, cold, dangerous.

"Are you disobeying me as well, Cassandra?"

Cassius froze.

He hadn’t expected that.

And Esme, bleeding, trembling, furious —slowly lifted her head... and smiled.

A horrible, twisted smile blooming beneath her half ruined features.

Because this was better than she had dared hope.

She came here intending to rip Cassandra out of Arabella’s side, convinced the maid held some key to Arabella’s suspicious behavior. She thought this would weaken Arabella.

But this?

Arabella turning against her own servant?

This was a gift. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

A crack forming right where she needed it.

Esme’s fingers twitched, blood dripping between them as her smile widened.

"How delightful," she whispered beneath her breath, tasting triumph despite the metallic tang of pain on her tongue.

Arabella’s anger still radiated like heat from a wildfire— so palpable it made the air shimmer. Her focus locked on Cassius, her stance rigid, dangerous, wounded pride swirling around her like a storm cloud.

Cassius held her gaze.

But it seemed to fail reaching Arabella’s heart as his narrowed gaze then turned into a scoff, "I should have known all along. No one in this castle truly looks at me as how they should have revered me."

Cassius’s lips parted but suddenly the tremor in the castle stopped instantly. The eerie hold on the storm became even more frightening considering how Arabella hadn’t suppress her anger, she wasn’t. She was holding on to it, about to teether and explode.

Turning on her heels, she refused to give Cassius another glance, snapping to Esme, "Bring her away then."

Esme frowned, "So no more complain is it, milady?"

"Keep talking Esme," Arabella sharply interject her provocation, "And I shall see to it that your tongue will be severed from the rest of your body or your vocal chord be pulled out from your throat."

Though she shuddered from fear, Esme still held a smile.

Seeing Cassandra who kept glancing on backward toward Arabella and Arabella who seemed to have refused meeting her eyes spoke that the once union between them somehow had turned into a small rift, torn because of Arabella’s haughty pride that refuses to be looked down.

"Well, I shall bring her to the decimal Dungeon then."

"Decimal Dungeon?" Isaac interjects this time. He snapped, "Are you trying to kill her? Don’t you know what kind of place is the Decimal Dungeon?! You’re- You are trying to kill Cassandra!"

"Oh be at ease, she won’t die. It’s a hard dungeon to survive on but it’s due to the fact that the security is so tight there to avoid anyone coming in contact with the trapped criminal. There hasn’t been a time where they die because we tortured them or someone have slipped to kill them. Most deaths are even self inflicted," and as she drawled, Esme turned to Arabella whose face had turned stone cold. "Are you sure, milady that you allow me to bring her there?"

"Weren’t you the one looking forward to bring her away?"

Arabella snapped back.

She turned slightly, only slightly towards Cassius and huffed, "I don’t care. Remove her from my presence now."