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She lifts her eyes, determination flickering faintly. “You’re right. We can’t quit. But I’m terrified, Malphas. I can’t hide it anymore.” Her voice cracks on the last word, tears threatening to spill.

The sight shreds what remains of my composure. Her fear resonates with my own—I’m terrified of the day she looks at me with acceptance in her eyes, ready to sacrifice herself. I recoil at that notion, hating how powerless I feel.

My chest throbs with an ache that dwarfs any physical wound. In a surge of impulse, I gather her in my arms. She trembles, but doesn’t pull away. The catacomb’s gloom envelops us, shadows flickering as my flame dims. My wings wrap around her shoulders, forming a leathery cocoon against the damp air.

Her breath shivers, warm against my neck. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I wish I knew how to fix this.”

I shake my head. “No. This is my war. I’m the one who let the monarchy bind me with a contract in the first place. You’re caught in the crossfire.”

She lifts her gaze, eyes brimming with intensity. “But I chose to stay. Don’t demean that choice. I could have run—maybe I should have. But I stayed.”

My throat thickens, no words forming. Her unwavering loyalty wrenches me in ways I never predicted. I, who never believed in loyalty beyond raw power, now have a mortal who stands with me even though it might cost her life.

We remain locked in that half-embrace, neither wanting to move or break the silence. The catacombs press in, each corner reminiscent of a tomb. I can’t help but see it as an omen—this place of the dead where we hide from our pursuers, wrestling with an impossible fate.

At length, I gently release her, rising to my full height, ignoring the twinge in my ribs. She watches me, empathy warring with frustration in her expression. “What do we do next?” she asks, voice hushed.

I gather my chaotic energy, letting black flame swirl over my fingertips. The illusions flicker ominously, draining my strength. My tail flicks, an outward sign of my agitation. “First, we search for an exit that leads beyond these tunnels. Then we keep moving. The monarchy’s hounds might not suspect we went deeper underground. We use that advantage.”

“And after that?” she presses. “We can’t just wander forever. We need a real plan.”

My wings shift with a soft rasp. “We might seek out a true demon sorcerer or an exiled Soz’garoth who’s studied forbidden rites. Maybe they’ll have an alternative to a blood-for-blood ritual. If none exists, we disrupt the monarchy by other means. If I can gather enough demonic allies, we might topple the King, freeing me that way.”

She seems uncertain. “That’s… a lot. And if it fails?—”

I grimace, fangs bared. “We die fighting. But at least we make them bleed first.”

A dark satisfaction pulses through me at the thought of storming the monarchy’s strongholds. The oath might hamper my illusions, but I can still unleash a measure of chaos. If wefind reinforcements, we might break the monarchy’s spine. Yet even that is a desperate gamble with no guarantee that it would dissolve the contract.

Valentina nods, squaring her shoulders. “I’m with you. No matter what, we face them head-on if we must.”

Something in my chest lightens at her unwavering stance. But it also terrifies me—the stronger our bond grows, the closer we come to the day she might decide to sacrifice herself for me. She sees no other route; I can feel it. My mind replays the prophecy’s haunting line:A child of the Abyssborn shall unbind a demon’s chain through blood’s final tether.

Despair slices me open again. I straighten, forcing a blank expression, attempting to hide the raw panic gnawing my insides. “Let’s find a path out of these catacombs. I sense a draft along the eastern tunnel. Maybe it leads to a surface exit.”

She watches me for a heartbeat, as if reading the turmoil behind my gaze. But she doesn’t press, only nods and picks up her short sword. Her voice steadies. “All right. Let’s do it.”

We move deeper into the maze, guided by the faint breeze that stirs the stale air. My illusions hover at the perimeter of my vision, half-hearted phantoms reflecting my battered psyche. Each step echoes on the stone, dislodging pebbles that clatter into black pools. The catacombs’ walls occasionally bear carvings of robed figures, their faces long since eroded. Something about their silent stares unnerves me.

Time drags. We pass through narrow passageways where roots dangle like skeletal arms. Rot intensifies, the stench enough to make even me grimace. We climb over broken coffins, chipped columns, and seas of rubble. My side throbs, the contract’s pressure swirling behind my temples. I can’t do this forever.

Valentina presses on, determined, though I sense her fatigue. She halts abruptly, shining my black flame into a crevice. “Look,” she murmurs. “It might open up here.”

Indeed, a jagged break in the wall leads into a small chamber. The stale air shifts slightly, suggesting a hidden exit. We wedge ourselves through the gap, emerging into an even older segment of the catacombs. The floor is rough earth, the ceiling braced with rotted beams. My horns brush them, sending dust tumbling.

In the center of this chamber lies a sunken crypt, half-filled with murky water. A single iron gate stands at the far end, rusted beyond recognition. The metal is twisted, corroded. Beyond it, I see a flicker of light—dim, but real. Possibly an opening to the outside world.

“Think we can break it?” Valentina asks, nodding at the gate.

I snort softly. “Rust can’t stand against chaos flame. Step back.”

She moves aside, and I summon black fire around my hands. The illusions waver but hold. I channel the energy into the gate, letting it corrode further under intense heat. With a groan, the metal collapses in on itself, leaving a ragged hole. Water drips through, carrying a faint echo from outside.

We cross the crypt, careful not to slip on the submerged stone. The water laps at our ankles, and something moves in the shadows—a rat or a half-rotted corpse. I don’t care to investigate. I focus on the gash in the wall that leads to potential freedom.

Squeezing through, we find a cramped tunnel that slopes upward. The air grows fresher by degrees, though it still reeks of damp earth. My illusions flicker, and I realize I’m near my limit. If we run into soldiers, I might not have enough left to hide us.

At last, we stumble out into twilight. The forest canopy spreads overhead, ancient oaks riddled with moss. Not theswamp we left behind, but a new landscape, the ground firmer underfoot. My chest loosens a fraction, relief singing through me. We’ve escaped the labyrinth.