The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 99: Civerthin Moonsland Palace

The luxurious chambers of Zyvander Drake Angelus reeked of cold steel and burning incense.

The crown prince paced back and forth across the marble floor, his boots clicking with sharp precision.

His crimson cloak, embroidered with the sigil of a twin-headed serpent, swept behind him like the lingering trail of a predator.

His jaw clenched as his mind churned with suppressed rage.

Before him, his aide, Commander Raleth Corvin, stood stiffly, shoulders squared and eyes cast downward. The tension in the air was suffocating.

"None returned?" Zyvander’s voice sliced through the silence, dangerously calm.

"No, Your Highness," Raleth answered. "The entire unit was wiped out. We lost contact minutes after the explosion."

Zyvander halted mid-stride. His dark eyes glimmered beneath the warm glow of the room’s crystal chandelier.

His lips curved into a sneer. "Mors," he hissed, spitting the name like poison. "Of course, it was him. Who else could it be?"

Raleth shifted uncomfortably. "The prince is more resourceful than expected. His wife’s family has extensive connections on Asenus."

"Connections mean nothing against shadows," Zyvander growled. He turned to face the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the endless cityscape of Sinalta’s capital.

The skyline shimmered beneath twin moons, oblivious to the power struggle brewing in its veins. "Mors was supposed to be a discarded chess piece. Father made sure of it."

"Yet he survived," Raleth said cautiously.

"He did more than survive," Zyvander snapped, spinning around. His eyes burned with hatred.

"He’s gathering allies. The Demerin family, the old noble houses, even remnants of the military factions loyal to the Shadow Courts. My little brother doesn’t just want to live, he wants the throne."

The weight of his words hung ominously in the air. Mors, the second prince, the shadow-born enigma, was no longer a peripheral threat.

He was an enemy advancing silently across the board, positioning his pieces with masterful precision.

Zyvander moved toward the grand desk positioned in the center of the room. With a flick of his wrist, a holographic map projected upward, displaying key planets across the empire.

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His finger tapped on Asenus, and data streams flowed beside it, troop movements, supply lines, and security protocols.

"Asenus," he murmured. "The Demerin stronghold. It’s where his wife’s family resides. Athena Demerin."

Raleth stiffened. "The princess of Asenus?"

"Yes," Zyvander said, a sinister smile forming.

"Mors has always been indifferent to power unless provoked. But that woman…" He traced the holographic representation of Asenus. "She’s his weakness."

Raleth’s brow furrowed. "Your Highness, kidnapping the wife of a prince could escalate tensions into civil war."

Zyvander laughed softly, the sound devoid of humor.

"We’re already in a silent war. The shadows are restless. The throne hasn’t been secure since our father’s health began to wane. If Mors wants to challenge me, I’ll give him something to fight for, and lose."

He clasped his hands behind his back, staring at the hologram with cold determination.

"Athena Demerin will be the bait. We’ll drag her into the web, expose Mors’s ambitions, and fracture his alliances. The nobility will never support a prince who jeopardizes the safety of his own wife."

Raleth’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. "The Demerin family won’t sit idle if their princess is harmed."

"She won’t be harmed," Zyvander said smoothly.

"She’ll be… displaced. Publicly humiliated, perhaps. Just enough to make Mors reckless. Once he abandons his careful strategy to rescue her, we’ll strike."

The prince’s gaze darkened further. "Send word to the Black Talons. Infiltrate the estate. Monitor her movements. I want daily reports. No mistakes this time."

Raleth bowed. "Understood, Your Highness."

As the commander turned to leave, Zyvander spoke again. "And one more thing."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"If they fail again, kill the survivors," Zyvander ordered, his voice devoid of mercy. "I have no use for incompetence."

Raleth hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "As you command." He exited swiftly, the door sealing behind him with a soft hiss.

The room fell into eerie silence once more. Zyvander stood alone, staring at the shimmering projection.

His mind wandered to the woman he’d seen in reports, Athena Demerin.

Elegant, intelligent, a figure of grace who had captivated Mors enough to marry her despite the empire’s political chaos.

The crown prince’s lips twitched into a smile. "So fragile," he murmured to himself. "And yet, so powerful."

The plan was simple, kidnap Athena, publicize the incident, and paint Mors as a reckless traitor willing to endanger his wife and the empire for personal gain.

The nobility would demand action. The council would turn against the second prince. And once Mors was isolated, Zyvander would deliver the final blow.

But he wasn’t naive. Mors wouldn’t fall easily. He was the shadow-born prince, raised on poisons and intrigue.

The Saintess’s curse still lingered in his veins, a volatile power that both strengthened and threatened his existence.

If the darkness within Mors truly awakened, Zyvander would have to contend with more than political intrigue.

The prince stepped toward a hidden panel in the wall. With a touch, it slid open, revealing a small, glowing vial suspended in a stasis field. Inside swirled an inky, crimson substance.

The Essence of Severina.

The demon goddess had once wreaked havoc across the empire, her soul bound to the Saintess’s cursed sword.

When Mors defeated her, a fragment of her power had been extracted and sealed. Zyvander had obtained the vial through bribes, torture, and treachery.

"You destroyed her once, brother," Zyvander whispered. "But darkness always returns."

His fingers hovered over the containment field. The energy radiating from the vial pulsed like a malevolent heartbeat.

Severina’s essence wasn’t just power, it was madness, chaos, the perfect tool to shatter Mors from within.

The trap would be set in two phases, abduct Athena and release traces of the essence near Mors.

The cursed energy would resonate with the dormant power in his soul, accelerating the rampage.

The second prince would either lose control or expend all his strength fighting it. In either case, he’d be vulnerable.

Zyvander closed the panel and exhaled slowly. The weight of his plan settled over him with a familiar thrill.

This was more than a battle for the throne, it was a game of minds and patience. And he’d spent a lifetime perfecting the art of manipulation.

As the city lights flickered beyond the window, Zyvander whispered, "Enjoy your peace while it lasts, brother. Soon, the darkness you feared will devour everything you love."