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At last, dawn’s faint light emerges in the eastern sky. Mist coils among the trees, turning everything pale gray. Valentina rouses, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her gaze meets mine, and I see the flicker of worry, but she says nothing, simply standing to test her battered limbs.

The new day offers no clarity, only the knowledge that we must keep moving, keep surviving. My illusions remain weak, the vow’s lash coiled around my spirit. She’s an Abyssborn with no safe recourse but her own death.

We are outcasts, bound by a prophecy we never asked for. The monarchy closes in from every side. My fortress is lost. My illusions falter. The woman I can’t bear to lose is fated to die if she tries to save me.

I draw myself upright, wings stiff, as Valentina gathers our minimal supplies. Her eyes hold a question—Are you all right?I can’t lie, but I offer a curt nod. She approaches, resting a hesitant palm on my chest. “We keep going?”

“Yes,” I say, voice numb. “We keep going.”

No more words pass between us. We slip back into the wilderness, leaving the catacombs behind. The gloom that settled in my soul stays, an unrelenting ache. My illusions flicker in and out, useless for real camouflage. Valentina walks at my side, tension coiled in her every step. The forest canopy arches overhead, the dawn light feeble.

Inside, I feel nothing but a cold void. This fleeting alliance, once built on the possibility of saving me, is overshadowed by the certainty it might kill her. How can I hold on to hope when the cost of my freedom is her blood?

I can’t let her see me break. For her, I must pretend a plan still exists. I must act as if we can circumvent destiny. So I steel my spine, forging each footstep from determination alone. She’s counting on me. I made a vow—my own vow—never to let her pay that price.

We vanish into the forest’s hush, fear and heartbreak gnawing at our insides. The monarchy hunts, the vow punishes, and the prophecy looms—a trifecta of doom. But we live, for now. I can’t see the sun for the tangled branches, but I feel it rising, urging us onward.

Somewhere in the days ahead, we might stumble on a new path—a relic, a sorcerer, an ally who can unravel this cursed ritual. Or we might crash into the monarchy’s blades. The outcome is shrouded by illusions I can no longer fully command.

As we move into the depths of these unknown woods, Valentina’s presence is the only anchor I have. My heart aches with longing and despair. The bond between us is stronger than ever, yet overshadowed by the nightmare of a future thatdemands her life for mine. Each step forward is a silent lament, a refusal to succumb.

I vow in the quiet recesses of my soul, I will defy every chain the monarchy forged. I will cling to this fragile bond with her. Even if the prophecy insists on her death, I will tear fate itself apart before surrendering to that final cruelty.

In the gloom of morning, we walk on, hearts heavy, illusions nearly gone, carrying the secret that might destroy us both.

15

VALENTINA

Afaint breeze filters through the ancient pines, carrying the tang of sap and damp moss. I inhale slowly, hoping the crisp air will clear the worry fogging my thoughts. After days of stumbling through the catacombs and these shadowy forests, Malphas and I finally found a pocket of calm—a small clearing ringed by towering trees, their branches forming a canopy that lets through dappled sunlight. It’s not perfect shelter; the monarchy could still track us if they tried. But for a few precious hours, I can inhale without tasting blood and fear.

The morning sun is weak, caught in the haze that clings to this place. My boots crunch over fallen needles as I circle the clearing, scanning for threats. My ribs still protest each movement, bruised from the last time we clashed with the dark elf soldiers in those cursed catacombs. Every step feels like I’m hauling a lead weight behind my lungs. I can’t keep going like this forever. But I also can’t surrender.

Malphas stands by a rocky outcrop at the clearing’s edge, broad shoulders tense. He’s imposing even in exhaustion, eight feet of ebon muscle, horns curved in brutal arcs. The broken one near the tip is a permanent reminder of all he’s endured. Hiswings droop against his back, battered from repeated scrapes with the monarchy’s arcane attacks. He pretends not to notice me watching, but I see the subtle clench of his claws whenever the vow tightens around his heart. Even from a distance, I sense his pain.

A swirl of guilt undercuts my exhaustion. I am the reason Malphas fights the monarchy at every turn. I carry the means to unbind him from their control, but that solution demands my life as payment. Knowing that shakes me to the core. For days, I’ve wallowed in an inner war, caught between an unthinkable sacrifice and a desperate clinging to my own survival. Each night, nightmares wrack me, featuring my body lying lifeless on a ritual altar while Malphas roars his helpless fury.

But something changes in me this morning. A fragile shift, like a tiny ember flickering in the ashes. Even though I ache, even though fate looms with a cruel ultimatum, I realize I won’t let them—the monarchy, the prophecy, even Malphas’s vow—decide my destiny. If there’s a path to unbind him without demanding my life, I vow I’ll tear the world apart to find it. The monarchy has stolen enough from both of us.

I stride across the clearing to Malphas, ignoring the twinges in my side. “We can’t keep drifting,” I say, voice hushed so it doesn’t echo among the trunks. “If we keep hiding, the monarchy will eventually corner us. The vow will wear you down, or we’ll run out of resources. We need a real plan.”

He glances at me, molten eyes dulled by fatigue. “I know,” he admits in a gravelly murmur. “But every time we risk a direct confrontation, we lose another piece of ourselves. My fortress is gone, your illusions are shaky at best?—”

A wry smile touches my lips, though sadness lingers behind it. “They were never truly mine. You shaped them around me. But I see your point.” I draw a deep breath, clenching my fists. “We tried running. We tried skulking through catacombs. Noneof it gets us closer to an answer. I can’t watch you suffer the vow’s torment any longer, Malphas. And I won’t die for some prophecy that might be twisted. Not if I can help it.”

He tenses, turning fully to face me, horns catching a stray sunbeam that highlights the scarred ridges. “You’re speaking as if you have an alternative. But we’ve found none.” The bitterness in his tone slashes at me.

In that moment, I realize how deeply his despair runs—he sees no other path except me dying or him remaining a slave to the monarchy. My chest squeezes painfully, but a fierce determination flares. “I’m done letting them define our choices,” I say, letting the anger sharpen my voice. “We might not have discovered a perfect solution, but we haven’t confronted them on our terms yet. We always end up running.”

He exhales, frowning. “What does that mean? A suicidal attack on their capital? You’ve seen what they did to my fortress. We’ll be outnumbered a hundred to one.”

I shudder at the memory of those black-clad soldiers storming the courtyard, but I refuse to back down. “Not a blind charge,” I correct. “Something more deliberate. If we’re going to break the vow, we do it in a way that’s advantageous to us. We lure them to a place where we control the environment, maybe gather allies if possible. We perform the unbinding ritual our way.” My heart thumps, fear nibbling at me from within. “I refuse to let them kill me or you. The prophecy might say ‘life for life,’ but maybe I can warp that outcome. I can at least try.”

He stares at me, incredulity flickering in his slitted pupils. “You sound half-mad. You read the archivist’s text. The old runes make it clear—a child of the Abyssborn must surrender her essence to sever a demon’s oath. That’s no trifling matter we can just tweak.”

I shrug, heat coursing under my skin. “Then call me crazy, but I believe ancient magic can be bent. Maybe I can pourmy power into the vow but keep my life. Maybe I can channel the monarchy’s own illusions to offset the cost.” My confidence wavers, yet I press on. “Or maybe we find a clever way to interpret ‘life for life.’ Something that satisfies the ritual enough to break the vow without truly killing me. The monarchy has twisted words for centuries. Why can’t we?”

A faint spark of interest lights Malphas’s eyes, quickly doused by caution. “You risk losing everything on a gamble. If it fails, I gain freedom for a heartbeat, then drown in regret as you die.”