Page 47

She helps me limp forward, stepping around thick roots and stagnant pools. My senses remain on alert, scanning for any sign of pursuit. Each minute that passes, the contract’s scalding presence calms fractionally, as if the King’s immediate wrath has to subside.He must focus on the fortress, ensuring it’s thoroughly destroyed. That’s our only advantage.

A swirl of relief and bitterness churns in my gut. I picture my fortress towers collapsing under siege, illusions scattering as the monarchy plants their banner over my final bastion of independence. The notion drives a fresh wave of rage throughme, but there’s nothing I can do now.I will reclaim my domain one day, once I’m unbound.

Valentina glances my way. “We’ll rebuild,” she says softly, as if sensing my thoughts. “It might not be your fortress, but we’ll find a place you can shape again.”

I stare at her, surprised by the conviction in her voice. “Why do you care?”

She shrugs, flushing. “Because I understand what it’s like to lose everything. And because if we’re in this together, you deserve a chance to regain your power.”

Something fragile stirs in me. My horns dip. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words tasting foreign on my tongue.

We push onward, forging a path among twisted trees. The ground rises slightly, forming a small patch of drier land. An ancient log leans at an angle, draped in moss. Valentina kneels, prodding it with her blade. “Seems stable enough. We can rest here until dawn.”

I collapse onto the log, ignoring the muck caking my boots. My wings ache with every breath, the newly bandaged wound searing. Chaos magic usually speeds my healing, but the contract’s interference has slowed that regeneration.

Valentina stands guard, scanning the gloom. Faint flickers of lightning reveal her silhouette—tall, lean, arms tense with readiness. Despite her battered state, she radiates a fierce determination. The memory of her lashing out at the soldiers in the fortress’s grand hall surfaces in my mind.She’s grown so much from the trembling slave I first saw.

Silence stretches, thick with regret and uncertainty. I rub a hand over my broken horn, the stump a constant reminder of the times I nearly died under the monarchy’s compulsion. Now, I’m branded a traitor, forced to abandon my fortress, and all because I refused to kill the woman at my side.No illusions remain about my standing with the King. This is war.

At length, Valentina turns to me, voice hushed. “Malphas… are you all right?”

I bark a quiet laugh, bitterness laced with exhaustion. “I’m homeless, wounded, and an entire legion wants my head. But I’m alive. That’s more than can be said for many of my lesser demons who fought valiantly.”

Her face clouds with sympathy, but she remains silent, perhaps sensing no words can ease that guilt. We share a loaded glance, acknowledging the finality of what’s happened.

Lightning arcs overhead, outlining the twisted swamp trees. Thunder grumbles in the distance. The contract’s throb has diminished to a dull ache, meaning the King’s immediate call ended. But it’ll return. That or he’ll dispatch more assassins.

I exhale, leaning my head back against the log’s thick bark. “We’ll rest,” I decree quietly. “Then we keep moving at dawn, vanish deeper into Protheka’s wilderness. We find a place to plan, to figure out how best to use your Abyssborn power against this oath.”

She nods, shifting closer to me, though not quite touching. Her body heat brushes my arm. “You still have that amulet you mentioned? The one that might weaken the contract?”

A shadow crosses my mind. I recall the chunk of obsidian and bone I salvaged from the fortress’s vault. “I do. It’s in my satchel. But it’s unstable. If I tried to use it now, half the swamp might implode.”

Her lips twist wryly. “So that’s a last resort.”

“Precisely.” I clamp my eyes shut, trying to ignore the swirl of pain. “Let’s hope we can refine it or find another method. If we fail, the monarchy might not even need an army next time. The contract alone could break me.”

She inches closer, voice almost too soft for the stormy night. “I won’t let that happen.”

I crack an eye open, meeting her unwavering gaze. The sincerity there is unsettling. “You’ll try,” I correct. “We’re both gambling with forces older than any mortal empire.”

She squares her shoulders. “That’s never stopped me. Or you.”

A half-smile tugs at my mouth despite the gloom. “True enough.”

Rain begins to patter through the twisted branches overhead, each drop hissing as it strikes the bog. The lightning’s glow sputters, revealing swirling mists. We huddle against the log for meager shelter, hearts drumming with the knowledge that the fortress is lost.

Silence envelops us, broken only by rainfall and the distant thunder of magic echoing from the direction of my domain. My illusions are no longer strong enough to sense the ongoing chaos, but I can guess. The monarchy will raise their banners, crow about capturing or destroying my stronghold, brand me a traitor for openly defying my oath. Word will spread across Protheka, Malphas has gone rogue, protecting a rumored Abyssborn.

I shut my eyes, letting the hush settle deeper.So be it.If I must become an outlaw to reclaim my autonomy, I will. Valentina’s warm presence grounds me, a reminder that I’m not alone in this. She’s lost everything too, scoured from the city that once enslaved her. Now we flee together, an unholy alliance forging a precarious bond.

The storm intensifies, raindrops growing heavier. Valentina lifts the corner of her coat, trying to shield her face. My chest aches at the sight.I can conjure illusions to keep us dry, but not in my current state.Helplessness stings.The monarchy has effectively stripped me of my sanctuary. Now I roam the swamps like a wounded beast.

Another flash of lightning illuminates her profile, and for an instant, I see the raw determination etched into her features. My heart clenches. “We’ll survive,” I say, not sure if I’m reassuring her or myself.

She glances at me, rain streaking her cheeks. “Yes. We will.”

And that is enough for now. We find a semblance of acceptance in the storm’s roar, each battered by fate but not broken. The fortress is lost, but we live. The monarchy has forced our hand. Let them brand me a traitor. Let them hunt us.We’ll carve our own path, free from their chains.