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Valentina watches, eyes wide. “It’s incredible,” she breathes, glimpsing the illusions from within the fortress. Translucent specters of giant Trolvors and towering Gilak demons flicker above the ramparts, roaring silently into the night.

But just as I solidify that layer of defense, a piercing jolt stabs my chest. I double over, letting out a guttural snarl. The contract.King Grymlock is calling me.My lungs constrict as the oath’s magic scythes through me like molten barbed wire.

Valentina rushes forward. “What’s happening?”

I snarl, pressing a clawed hand to my sternum. “The King is summoning me—punishing me for defying him.” White-hot agony pulses behind my eyes, making it hard to breathe.If I keep resisting, it might incapacitate me entirely.

Valentina’s face pales, her arms going rigid. “Can you fight it off?”

“Yes,” I rasp, “but it takes all my focus. If an army arrives now, I’ll be half-useless.” The fortress wards fluctuate, illusions flickering. My concentration splinters under the contract’s torment.Damn it, I need more time.

As if on cue, a massive resonance slams against the fortress’s perimeter wards. The entire structure trembles, cracks rippling along the basalt floor. Valentina stumbles, bracing a hand on my throne’s arm. My wards quake under the force of an outside assault.They’re already here—some strike team.

A Zonak races into the hall, squeaking frantically. Another Trolvor barrels through a side corridor, screeching about intruders. I force myself upright, ignoring the fierce pain from both my side and the contract. My illusions waver.They’re assaulting from multiple angles.

Valentina helps me stand, her brow creased with worry. “What do we do?” she demands, voice shaking.

I grit my teeth. “We fight. Or we flee. But this fortress is my domain, and I’m not surrendering it without a struggle.” I march past her, forcing the black flame around my hands once more. The swirling illusions outside roil, showing me glimpses of the attackers: squads of dark elf soldiers, assisted by a handful of conjured demons. Arcane siege weapons are arrayed in the swamp, launching blasts of corrupted energy at my wards.They came prepared.

Valentina pales, glimpsing the illusions that reflect reality. “That many? There must be at least two dozen soldiers out there… plus demons.”

My tail lashes, horns flaring with anger. “They want to bury me for defying the monarchy. And they want you dead. The King must have declared me a traitor, unleashing everything he can muster in a short time.”

Another impact rattles the fortress, sending cracks racing up a pillar. I spin, glaring at the lesser demons huddled at the edges. “All of you,” I roar, voice echoing in the vaulted chamber, “defend our walls! Summon your brood, set illusions, anything. We stand or we all die.”

The Trolvors hiss, Zonaks squeal, scattering to carry out my order. They might be savage and primal, but they know I’m the best chance they have against a dark elf legion. Valentina grips her sword, eyes wide but resolute.

“I’ll help,” she says, voice trembling but determined.

I pause, scanning her battered form. “You’re already hurt from before. And if they see you, they’ll target you.”

She lifts her chin. “I’m not cowering in a corner while they slaughter everyone. This is my fight too.”

Despite the agony roiling in my chest, a twisted sense of respect flares inside me. “Fine,” I concede. “But stay close. If you fall into their hands, it’s over.”

She nods sharply, stepping beside me as we head toward the main gates. We climb a spiral staircase to an upper rampart that overlooks the courtyard. The illusions part just enough for us to see the horrific scene beyond the fortress walls: luminous projectiles of arcane energy slam into swirling shadows, scattering illusions that vanish in sparks. The wetlands roil with rank smoke, and I glimpse black-clad soldiers forming ranks around siege constructs.

Some lesser demons perched on the parapets hurl balefire at the invaders. Archers among the elves respond with deadly arcs of flaming arrows, peppering the outer walls. I watch in horror as a Trolvor topples from a turret, shrieking as it falls into the swamp below.They’re overwhelming my lesser beasts with coordinated attacks.

The fortress wards flicker. The contract’s torment squeezes my ribs, punishing me for resisting King Grymlock. My illusionsthreaten to collapse entirely. I clench the rampart’s edge so hard my claws gouge stone.I must hold on, or they’ll break through.

Valentina stands at my side, scanning the chaos. “They’re focusing fire on the southwestern tower,” she gasps, pointing. Indeed, a barrage of arcane blasts batters that spire, cracks fracturing the basalt. One more volley might bring it down.

I breathe a ragged snarl, forcing black flame to swirl around my horns, channeling illusions to strengthen that tower. My vision dims, contract pain lancing my skull.I can’t keep this up forever.

A sudden roar echoes from below as an entire chunk of wall collapses in a hail of stone. Soldiers and lesser demons flood into the courtyard. My illusions scramble to create phantom guardians, but the real brunt of the fight is physical. Trolvors and Zonaks swarm the breach, shrieking in savage fury. The clash of steel and screeches of agony fill the night air.

Valentina tugs my sleeve, eyes wild. “They’ve breached! If we stay up here, we’ll be cut off.”

I grind my teeth, wanting to hold the ramparts. But she’s right. The fortress stands compromised. We have to regroup or risk being trapped in the upper levels. “Down,” I say, voice rough. “We meet them in the main courtyard. We push them out or die trying.”

She nods, determination etched across her face. Together, we sprint down the spiral steps, illusions swirling haphazardly around me as I attempt to keep random pockets of the fortress protected. My side throbs, fresh blood staining the bandages. The contract’s silent demand grinds at my soul.Kneel, obey, kill her.I snarl inwardly, refusing to submit.

We burst into the courtyard, which has become a battlefield of screaming chaos. Elves in black armor hack at lesser demons, arcane spells crackling overhead. Trolvors retaliate with fang and claw, but the coordinated might of the soldiersgains ground. A few illusions flicker about—colossal illusions of demonic beasts—but the illusions alone can’t stop real steel from slicing flesh.

One soldier spots Valentina. “There!” he yells, eyes flaring with triumph. “The girl is alive! The King wants her head!” He lunges with a spear thrumming with arcane power.

Valentina parries, though the blow staggers her. I roar, stepping in with chaos flame surging around my fists. My illusions glitch around me, horns fully visible for an instant. The soldier’s eyes widen, recognizing me. “Malphas… you’re a traitor!” he snarls.