Page 54

Valentina braces herself on a tree trunk, panting. “We made it,” she whispers.

I nod, scanning the area. No immediate sign of monarchy scouts. Good. My illusions flicker one last time, then gutter out. I let them go, horns fully visible in the dying light. My battered wings droop from exhaustion.

We find a hollow beneath an ancient oak, wide enough to crawl inside. It’s not comfortable, but it hides us from casual sight. With a collective sigh, we slump against the trunk, bodies trembling with fatigue. I taste the night air, waiting for the usual twinge of dread whenever I sense the monarchy. For now, it’s quiet.

Night falls in earnest, and the forest stirs—crickets chirp, distant owls hoot. Valentina sits across from me, her silver eyes shining in the gloom. The catacombs are behind us, but the despair they birthed remains.

My thoughts drift back to the prophecy. Each time I picture her lying lifeless, blood fueling the final unbinding, my breath falters. I exhale slowly, fists clenched on my thighs. “I can’t do it,” I say, voice resonating with hollow finality.

She tilts her head. “Can’t do what?”

“Condemn you,” I grind out, meeting her gaze with raw intensity. “You might see it as a duty, but I refuse. I’d rather remain chained forever than watch you die.”

Her lips part, eyes brimming with sadness. “Then we’re stuck in a loop. I don’t want to die, but I hate seeing you suffer. The monarchy’s oath is strangling you.”

A bitter laugh rumbles from me. “Yes, but your death? That’s a deeper torment than any contract.” I shake my head, frustration sizzling under my skin. “All my life, I believed powerwas everything. That’s why I served the monarchy when they offered me a pact. Now I see the price.”

She listens intently, voice hushed. “And it’s not worth it anymore?”

I let out a slow breath. “Not if it costs you.”

The night hushes around us, and I realize this is my most vulnerable moment in centuries. The catacombs forced me to confront that we have no bright future—only bleak choices. I rub my broken horn absently, the stump throbbing with phantom pain.

Valentina shifts closer, resting a tentative hand on my knee. The contact warms me despite the gloom. “We’ll figure something out,” she says, though her voice quivers. “I don’t know how, but… together.”

A pang hits my chest again, that cursed mixture of gratitude and guilt. The bond between us is stronger than ever, forged by shared desperation, but we might be doomed. Each day, the monarchy tightens the net. Each night, the vow crushes me. She stands on the precipice of sacrificing everything.

I cup her cheek, ignoring the sting in my side. “If it comes to that ritual, I won’t let you complete it,” I vow in a low growl. “I’ll kill the King with my bare claws first. I’ll reduce his city to ash.”

She searches my eyes. “And if that fails?”

My hand trembles against her skin. “Then so be it. I’d rather die fighting than live free at the cost of your heartbeat.”

She inhales sharply, tears hovering in her gaze. “Stubborn demon,” she whispers, but there’s a note of fierce admiration.

We fall silent, the forest’s distant hum our only soundtrack. My wings ache, my horns throb, the contract simmers in my consciousness. This hush feels like the calm before a storm. Everything is bleak, no matter which path we choose.

Finally, she slips her hand down from my knee, exhaling with defeat. “We should rest. By morning, maybe we’ll have a plan.”

I nod, though sleep is the last thing I expect to find. She lies down, using her pack as a pillow, the tears on her cheeks drying in the cool air. I watch her for a moment, chest twisting with longing and dread. Then I fold my wings around myself, leaning against the thick trunk.

I shut my eyes, images spinning behind my lids. The catacombs’ gloom, the swirling illusions I can’t fully control, her stricken face when she confessed the truth of the ritual. My own fortress in flames. The monarchy’s unstoppable wrath.I see no future except her death or my eternal servitude.The cruelty of fate mocks me at every turn.

A surge of rage and sorrow wells, nearly choking me. I stifle it, reminding myself she needs me present, not lost in despair. If the monarchy comes tonight, I’ll fight until my last breath. But I can’t bury the black stone of hopelessness lodged in my core.

I crack my eyes open, glimpsing Valentina’s slender form curled on the forest floor. Her hair spills across her torn coat. Even battered and weary, she stands like a beacon of stubborn life. I ache with the desire to protect her, to keep her from paying the prophecy’s price.

The vow’s presence thrums like a noose around my throat, punishing each rebellious thought. My illusions flicker, forming spectral shapes that vanish in a hiss. The monarchy’s hold is unrelenting, and it’s only a matter of time before they strike again.

I let out a shuddering breath, the final tethers of hope fraying. Darkness encroaches in my mind, a deep pit where no light can reach. I’ve never felt so powerless. Not when I was a servant in the monarchy’s war, not when I lost my horn, not even when I was forced to kill rebels in the arena. This is worse—knowing I can’t save her or myself.

A rustle draws my gaze. She shifts in her half-sleep, murmuring my name as if searching for comfort. My claws curlagainst the mossy ground. I want to hold her, but a wave of guilt crashes back.Last time we clung to each other, the morning brought only more heartbreak.We might be caught in a cycle of doomed desperation.

I exhale, forcing the tears from the corners of my eyes. I am a demon. We’re not meant to cry or feel such crippling regret. Yet here I am, raw and hollowed, pinned by the knowledge that every path leads to ruin.

Time drags. The night forest throbs with hidden creatures, leaves rustling in the breeze. A fleeting thought crosses my mind—What if we vanish beyond the monarchy’s borders? Protheka is vast, full of wild lands. Could we outrun the prophecy? Possibly. But the vow’s magic binds me to the monarchy’s plane of existence. They’d track me eventually, no matter how far we run.

I let out a sigh, horns pressed back. The realm is spinning around me, illusions swirling in my peripheral vision. They reflect my turmoil: half-formed shapes of Valentina lying lifeless, or images of me kneeling under a scorching brand, hammered by the vow. I bat them away, but the bleakness remains.