Protected: THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10 (18+ Story)
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
The Festival of Fire and Flesh 3
Surganah was on another level. He was ready to obey her at that moment.
Lyara lied down on her back, spreading her two legs wide apart for him to see the fleshy inner of her pussy. Surganah jumped on her.
He buried himself inside her, she wrapped her arms around him—soft, sweet.
And then she acted.
Her fingers, tipped with long, painted nails, dipped into his back and raked deep, injecting the venom she had acquired from a forbidden tree said to poison even ancient spirits.
Surganah screamed.
His body convulsed.
The room shook.
He stumbled back, naked, blood pouring from the scratches.
“You…” he snarled, eyes wide. “You treacherous whore!”
But she smiled.
“You will never touch another girl again.”
He screamed in pain, bursting into smoke and fleeing toward his dungeon. Guards swarmed into the chamber.
“Arrest her!” he bellowed with his last breath before vanishing.
Lyara was beaten, dragged from the chamber half-naked and bloodied, but not afraid.
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THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
Inside the depths of his black stone dungeon, Surganah screamed and thrashed. The poison was ancient. Murtiva’s Kiss—a venom from a flower that bloomed only under cursed moons. It attacked the soul first, then the body, unraveling spirit from flesh.
His skin bubbled.
His blood turned black.
The pot was summoned, glowing red with warning.
“Fool of power,” the voice whispered, “you ignored the wind and followed the fire.”
“I will not die,” Surganah hissed. “I am the One. I am Alpha Eternal!”
He crawled toward a sealed casket—hidden for years, saved for emergencies.
Inside it, wrapped in dragon-skin cloth, was the Antidote of Sarnak. Crafted from the blood of moon-born werewolves, it was the only known cure.
He drank.
Collapsed.
And for seven nights and days, he lay in agony, twitching, whispering curses. The poison waged war with the cure. It ate at his muscles, tested his immortality. But he survived.
When the seventh night passed, he rose.
Weakened.
Angry.
Unforgiving.
He walked to the pot again. It now showed him Lyara’s image—chained in the dungeons, her lips bruised but smiling. She was still defiant.
“I will make an example of her,” he growled. “I will paint the streets with her blood. The people will learn—fear is not a choice. It is law.”
He stormed out of the dungeon, back into his castle, his eyes glowing with rage.
And for the first time in years, the people of Altvall began to whisper not in fear… but in hope.
Someone had wounded the untouchable.
Someone had dared.
And survived.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
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READ ALSO : ALPHA FOUR : CHAPTERS 1 – THE END
TO BE CONTINUED
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