Court of the Cursed

The courtroom felt heavier as the trial wore on, a weight that was not of this world. Mathew's questions became sharper, more incisive, cutting through Abigail Russo's carefully constructed façade.

"You claim to have no personal connection to the victims," Mathew began, his voice smooth but piercing. "And yet, their friends and families testified that each of them mentioned meeting a woman fitting your description mere days before they vanished. Are you saying they all coincidentally described someone else?"

Abigail's lips twitched into a small, practiced smile. "Your Honor," she said softly, her voice a honeyed whisper, "men notice beautiful women. If they spoke of me, it was likely a passing mention, nothing more."

"And yet," Mathew continued, his tone unrelenting, "a surveillance video shows you speaking privately with one of the victims for nearly an hour at a café. How do you explain that?"

Her mask faltered for the briefest moment, a flicker of irritation crossing her perfect features. "I enjoy conversation, Your Honor," she replied, her tone tightening. "Surely that isn't a crime."

Mathew leaned forward, his dark eyes unyielding. "Ms. Russo, I find it strange that five men—all of whom disappeared under mysterious circumstances—just happened to have extended interactions with you shortly before vanishing. Don't you?"

The gallery buzzed with murmurs, the weight of Mathew's logic settling over the room like a storm cloud.

Abigail's smile grew sharp, her eyes gleaming with something darker. "You're a clever man, Your Honor," she said, her voice dipping into a low, dangerous tone. "But cleverness can be… dangerous."

The air shifted suddenly, growing heavy and electric. The lights in the room dimmed, the hum of the gallery falling silent. Mathew felt the shift before it happened, the dark energy swirling around Abigail coiling like a predator about to strike.

Her voice came again, softer this time, almost a whisper. "Let me show you the truth, Your Honor."

Before anyone could react, the world around Mathew warped, twisting into a blur of color and shadow. His vision darkened, and when it cleared, he was no longer in the courtroom.

He stood in a realm of impossible sensations. The ground beneath him pulsed faintly, like the beat of a heart, and the sky above shimmered with swirling, iridescent hues. All around him were scenes of forbidden pleasure—figures entwined in acts so indulgent, so intimate, that they bordered on the profane. The very air was thick with the scent of lust, a heady aroma that seeped into his lungs and coursed through his veins.

"Welcome," came Abigail's voice, now rich and velvety, from behind him.

Mathew turned to see her, no longer bound by her human guise. She stood before him in her true form, her dark beauty magnified to a terrifying degree. Her eyes glowed like molten gold, her horns curling elegantly from her head, and her smile was a predator's promise.

"This is my domain," she said, stepping closer, her voice a seductive melody. "Here, I am queen. And you…" Her hand traced a line down his arm, her touch searing. "You are my guest."

Mathew's jaw clenched as he fought against the pull of the realm around him. The visions of pleasure tugged at his mind, his body betraying him with every breath. He felt his skin burn with longing, every nerve screaming for release, for surrender.

"Do you feel it, Your Honor?" Abigail whispered, her other hand resting on his chest. "The freedom, the ecstasy? There is no judgment here. No rules. Only desire."

Her long, forked tongue flicked out, tasting the line of his neck, his cheek. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her words wrapping around him like chains. "Give in, Mathew. Let yourself feel."

But he didn't move.

"Is this what you did to them?" he asked, his voice tight but unbroken. "You brought them here, drowned them in this… this corruption, until they couldn't resist?"

Abigail smiled, stepping back slightly, her eyes gleaming. "They were willing," she said. "Hungry. They wanted everything I could give them. And when they gave themselves fully to me…" Her smile widened, revealing sharp, glistening teeth. "They were mine."

"You consumed them," Mathew said, his voice colder now. "Body and soul."

"And they died happy," Abigail countered, spreading her arms as if to showcase the twisted beauty of her domain. "Can you say the same for anyone in your world, Your Honor?"

Mathew's fists clenched, his will fighting against the relentless pull of her magic. The realm itself seemed to press against him, the air thickening, the whispers of temptation growing louder.

"You won't break me," he said, his voice firm despite the fire burning in his veins.

Abigail's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. "You're strong," she said, her voice losing some of its honeyed tone. "Stronger than I expected. But everyone has a breaking point."

She moved closer again, her form shifting, her beauty becoming almost unbearable. The visions around them grew more vivid, more insistent, a symphony of pleasure and pain designed to wear him down.

But Mathew closed his eyes, shutting out the sights and sounds. He reached deep within himself, focusing on the strength that had carried him through a lifetime of battles, both in the courtroom and beyond.

"I see you for what you are," he said, his voice steady.

When he opened his eyes, they burned with a light that cut through the darkness of her domain. His stature casting an unnaturally large shadow.

Abigail's eyes dropped to his shadow, stretching across the ground. There, behind the shadow, massive wings unfurled, their edges glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. His shadow didn't move, yet their presence was undeniable, like a harbinger of power and judgment.

She recoiled, her perfect features twisting into something monstrous, her power faltering.

"You," she hissed, stepping back, her confidence faltering. "What are you?"

"This ends now," Mathew said, his tone cold and unyielding.

She lunged at Mathew, her magic surging toward him like a tidal wave. Mathew raised his hand, the air around him shimmering as his will clashed with hers. The domain quaked under the force of their battle, the ground splitting, the sky darkening.

In an instant his shadowey wings clinged to her, holding her in place, as if she's trapped in an invisible net.

"You can't stop me!" she roared, pouring the last of her strength trying to escape.

The world around them twisted, the air shattering like glass. Mathew thrust his hand forward, his hand cutting through her magic, slicing through the very fabric of her domain

The realm around them began to crack, the swirling colors fading into darkness. Abigail screamed, her form flickering as the power she had wielded so effortlessly began to crumble.

And then, with a final burst of light, the domain shattered, and Mathew found himself back in the courtroom.

The gallery was silent, the tension thick and suffocating. Abigail sat in her chair, trembling, her human form barely holding together. Her eyes darted around wildly, her breaths shallow and ragged.

And then, it happened. Her hand flew to her chest, her body convulsing violently. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she collapsed, her head striking the edge of the table before she crumpled to the floor.

"Call for a medic!" someone shouted, but Mathew knew it was too late.

Abigail's lifeless body lay still, her eyes wide and unseeing. To the gallery, it was a heart attack—a sudden and tragic end. But Mathew saw the truth. The demon that had worn her body like a mask was gone, its essence obliterated in their battle.

He stood, his expression unreadable as he banged his gavel. "This court is adjourned."

As he turned to leave, his shadow loomed long across the room, the faint outline of wings still visible. The whispers in the gallery grew, confusion and awe blending into one. But Mathew didn't pause, his steps steady, his expression calm.

The battle was over. For now.