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But a movement in the corner draws my eye. I spin, sword raised. A hulking shape slithers from behind a broken column, all sinewy limbs and gaping maw. Its skin glistens with arcane fluid, and multiple eyes blink in the half-light. A mutated swamp beast, twisted by centuries of Wildspont exposure. My stomach flips.

Malphas snarls, illusions crackling around his claws. “We have company.”

The beast lunges, elongated arms swiping at me with a hiss. I duck, heart hammering. Malphas unleashes a burst of chaos flame, scorching its shoulder. It screeches, flailing, the watery light in its eyes flaring. Another monstrous form emerges from behind rubble—a smaller, serpentine creature, jaws snapping.A nest of horrors.

I leap onto the dais, narrowly avoiding the second creature’s tail whip. They converge, shrieking in unearthly tones. My sword slashes out, biting into the serpentine beast’s flank. It spurts greenish liquid, letting out an enraged squeal. Meanwhile,Malphas tangles with the bigger one, illusions swirling in an attempt to confuse it. Sparks dance as the beast collides with phantom images of the demon, roaring in frustration.

The watery dais trembles under the onslaught. I land a strike on the serpent’s head, forcing it to recoil. Then I spin, scanning for the larger brute. Malphas hurls black flame, scorching it again. The monster rakes a claw across his thigh, sending him stumbling with a growl of pain.

Rage boils in my veins at the sight of his blood. I dash in, jamming my sword into the beast’s exposed flank. Its hide is tough, but the blade sinks deep. The creature howls, thrashing. Malphas seizes the opening, illusions forming a half-dozen copies of him around it. Confused, it attacks an illusory figure. He leaps onto its back, burying his claws in the twisted flesh. With a final snarl, he unleashes chaos flame point-blank, incinerating its skull. The monster collapses, twitching.

Nearby, the serpent tries to retreat, but I pounce, adrenaline fueling me. My sword pierces its neck. It writhes, eyes rolling, then collapses in a splash of greenish ichor. My chest heaves, heart pounding. The dais glistens with gore.

Malphas tears himself free of the larger carcass, limping slightly, illusions flickering. We exchange a look of grim triumph—the beasts are slain, for now. But the risk is clea as this place crawls with mutated guardians. We’ll have to clear or contain them if we plan to use this site for the vow-shattering ritual.

He exhales, pressing a hand to his bleeding thigh. “This could be the perfect spot… if we can handle the wildlife.”

I manage a shaky laugh, wiping sweat from my brow. “We’ll do what we must. If more come, we kill them too.”

He grins wryly, revealing fangs. “That’s the spirit.”

A hush falls as we survey the chamber, water swirling around the dais. The runes carved into the altar glow faintly, resonating with the arcane meltdown in the air. This place practically humswith potential. My mind races with how to channel it for our plan—a plan to rewrite the prophecy’s final cost if possible.

By the time we drag the mutated carcasses aside, a bleak exhaustion settles in. Malphas slumps against a broken column, catching his breath. I kneel at the altar, brushing algae from the carved script. My Abyssborn blood tingles, as if the swirling energy in this place calls to me.

The monarchy will come if we stir the Wildspont with enough magic, I realize. They want me dead or recaptured. They want Malphas subdued or obliterated. This is how we lure them. We create a massive arcane disturbance that forces them to send their elite troops. And then we fight—on our terms.

A wave of fear chills me. The vow could end this in heartbreak. The prophecy could demand my life. But I sense that if I cower, Malphas remains shackled forever, and we eventually lose anyway. My lungs constrict, but I let the swirl of determination fill me instead.No more passivity.

I press my palm to the altar’s surface, feeling the thrumming of arcane power. The lines glow under my touch, a quicksilver flash across the runes. My hair stands on end. Abyssborn. The temple recognizes that demon lineage in me, even though I’m half-human. My breath catches. It’s a sign that maybe I can manipulate this place’s energy as part of the unbinding.

Turning, I fix my gaze on Malphas. He watches me with hooded eyes, clearly drained, but a spark of curiosity stirs. My heart squeezes, recalling how close we’ve grown—the raw nights, the confessions, the heartbreak. He’s more than a demon enforcer or a savage warlord. He’s become the one creature in this world I refuse to lose.

I rise, stepping across the dais to stand before him. Water drips from my ruined boots, mixing with monster ichor. My side throbs, but I ignore it. Instead, I lay a hand on his chest, feelingthe slow drum of his heart. He arches a brow, tension coiling. “Valentina?”

“I won’t let them win,” I say, voice echoing in the watery gloom. “I won’t let them kill you through that vow. And I won’t let them kill me for their prophecy. I’m done letting the monarchy and ancient curses decide our fate.”

His eyes narrow, searching my face. “You’re sure you can defy centuries of demonic lore? The archivist’s notes?—”

“I don’t care about the archivist’s notes,” I snap, though a tremor reveals my anxiety. “We’ll rewrite the story. This place… it resonates with me. Maybe we can infuse the vow with the Wildspont’s energy. We let the monarchy come, gather their forces, then I stand at this altar and attempt the unbinding. You stand with me, illusions ready, wards primed. And if I see it start to demand my life, I’ll funnel the raw magic of the marsh into that demand. I’ll force the vow to devour something else.”

He stares at me, fangs bared in a mixture of awe and disbelief. “That’s dangerously bold.”

“That’s the plan.” My pulse races, a wild sense of possibility thrumming. “We can’t guarantee success, but it’s better than waiting for them to corner us again.”

He exhales, horns dipping. “You truly are reckless.” Then a slow grin emerges, feral and admiring. “But I see no better option. I’ll help. We’ll need every scrap of cunning to shape illusions strong enough to hold them off while you manipulate the vow.”

Relief floods me, even though I’m shaking. “Then we’ll do it. We’ll lure them here, set wards, face them head-on.”

We seal this accord with a silent exchange, a fierce meeting of eyes that banishes the final shreds of doubt. Malphas limps off the dais, scanning the water-logged corridors. “We’ll need to fortify these ruins. The monarchy might bring siege spells.Perhaps I can siphon some illusions from the Wildspont to erect a barrier. We’ll have to kill any more monsters lurking around.”

My stomach flips at the thought of more beasts, but I shrug. “We can handle it together.”

He flexes his claws, illusions flickering around his arms. “Then let’s get started.”

Hours pass in a blur of grueling labor. We delve deeper into the submerged corridors, slaying another pair of twisted creatures that try to ambush us. Malphas channels illusions through the swirling energies, forging partial wards to seal off certain hallways, effectively funneling any incoming force to the dais chamber. I cut away choking vines, clear rubble, and burn away pockets of noxious growth that might hamper our movements.

We find old demon glyphs etched into the walls, references to primal gods who once ruled these marshes. Some we can’t decipher, but others mention bridging mortal life with demonic essence.A hint that maybe the prophecy can be bent?I store the thought away, heart pounding with fresh hope.