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A soldier rushes me, illusions parted by the backlash. I pivot, tail lashing out to knock him off balance. My horns tingle from the vow’s residual sting, but I sense a fraction of relief—one anchor destroyed. The monarchy’s immediate clamp on me weakens. Another soldier tries to pin me with a spear. I slap it aside, illusions swirling again to create duplicates of me. She stabs one illusory figure, cursing when it vanishes.

I dash to the next pillar, illusions flickering. Another anchor crystal gleams, set in a runic cradle. Soldiers swarm around me, but my illusions conjure a ring of black flame illusions, making them flinch. I leap over a spear thrust, land near the crystal. Claws outstretched, I slam chaos flame into the device. It crackles, resisting. I growl, fueling more power from the pit of my soul. The vow retaliates, waves of torment stabbing my chest. My eyes water, but I won’t stop. The crystal cracks under the onslaught, bursting in a flash of pale light. Another anchor undone.

Sparks swirl as arcane recoil blasts the dais. The entire structure groans, wards faltering in patches. Soldiers shout in alarm, scattering. Among them, I glimpse glimpses of Valentina, fighting like a cornered wolf. She knocks a guard’s polearm aside, driving her sword through a gap in his armor. She’s battered, panting, but her eyes burn with fury.She’s unstoppable.

But the monarchy has contingencies. A group of robed elves emerges from behind the dais, chanting. Their voices resonate with arcane harmony, weaving a new net of illusions designed to stifle my power. My illusions flicker out as they project a counter-ward in the courtyard. The vow seizes the chance to spike my brain with fresh agony, nearly sending me to my knees. Soldiers pounce, seeing me briefly unshielded.

Valentina sees my illusions collapse and sprints toward me, only to be cut off by more guards. She deflects a slash, wincing. “Malphas—” she calls, desperation in her tone.

My throat constricts. I can’t let them hamper me now. Gripping my horns for focus, I gather the last surge of illusions, battling the vow’s punishing sting. Dark flame radiates from my horns, forming a shield around me as I lunge forward. Soldiers reel away from the scalding illusions. I slam a clawed hand against the third anchor crystal near the dais’s central runes. This one is bigger, carved with more complex sigils. The robed elves intensify their chanting, arcs of pale lightning sizzling toward me. I snarl, illusions fracturing under that barrage. My wings flare, membranes ragged, as I conjure a final wave of chaos flame.

The crystal withstands the onslaught for a moment. My vision blackens at the edges, vow agony coursing through my heart.I might die here, but I’ll break the monarchy first.I roar, pouring everything into the illusions and flame. The crystal dims—then cracks violently. Arcane shockwaves blow me back,flinging me across the dais. Soldiers collapse in a ring around me, the ritual site’s wards fizzing in wild arcs.

I land hard, every nerve screaming. My illusions gutter out, pain pounding behind my eyes. But the vow’s hold is loosened.I sense a faint relief.Even if they call me now, they can’t forcibly drag me to my knees. The dais is partially freed from their direct tether.

Valentina rushes in, sword dripping with blood. She drops to a knee beside me, pressing a hand to my chest. “You’re alive?”

I cough, a strangled laugh escaping. “Barely.” My side burns from reopened wounds, and my horns ache from illusions spent, but I’m conscious.

A robed elf—likely the lead sorcerer—staggers to his feet across the dais, incensed. “Seize them!” he shrieks. “They can’t break all the wards with brute force!” His coterie scrambles to salvage the shattered anchors.

Valentina rises, eyes blazing. “Now’s the time. We push to the main dais. That’s where they harness the vow’s final hold on you, right?”

I nod, forcing myself upright despite the agony. “Yes. One more anchor cluster near the dais’s center. If we destroy it, the monarchy’s direct clamp on me is severed. Then… we do the rest with your ritual.”My chest tightens, remembering the prophecy demands her life.But I cling to the possibility that we can warp it.

We hobble across the dais, illusions flickering in weak pulses around my claws. Soldiers try to form a blockade, but the Gilak demon, now rampaging uncontrollably, crashes into them from behind, smashing into a line of halberds. They screech, losing formation. A final push allows us to break through their ranks, stepping into the temple’s inner sanctum—a massive antechamber with swirling patterns etched into the polished floor.

The chamber is ringed by tall spires, each capped by a humming crystal. In the center stands a stone pedestal, thrumming with dense magic. My vow resonates strongly there, a choking pull that threatens to bend my knees. It’s the monarchy’s true anchor for my oath, the final nail in my coffin. Runes swirl up the walls, weaving a tapestry of subjugation. I snarl at the sight.No more.

Three robed elves chant from the pedestal’s base, projecting wards around the anchor. Their robes are emblazoned with the monarchy’s crest, eyes glowing with arcane zeal. As we enter, they spin, arms raised to hurl bolts of conjured lightning. The vow inside me flares anew, as if eager to reassert mastery. I double over, illusions fracturing. Valentina steps forward, sword lifted.

A searing bolt arcs toward her, but she dives aside, rolling behind a fallen fragment of carved stone. Another bolt streaks at me, but I lash out with what illusions remain, dispersing it mid-flight. My horns pound, fresh blood trickling from my scalp.Time is short.

Valentina leaps from cover, hurtling at the nearest sorcerer. He tries to conjure a barrier, but she’s too quick—her blade slams his staff aside, cutting him down with a resolute thrust. The second sorcerer roars, unleashing a tide of purple flame that washes over her. She blocks part of it with her free arm, hissing as the scorching heat singes her clothes. Still, she pushes through, unstoppable.

The third sorcerer shifts his chanting, focusing on me. The vow’s presence intensifies, nearly crippling me. My illusions flicker out, darkness edging my vision.No, I refuse.With a guttural cry, I channel chaos flame from my core, black sparks erupting around my horns. The vow punishes me, but I lock onto that anchor pedestal. If I break it, the monarchy’s direct hold ends.

I lunge forward, ignoring the arcs of purple flame scorching my wings. My claws connect with the carved runes on the pedestal, raw chaos sparking. The second sorcerer whirls to defend the anchor, launching a wave of force that slams me sideways. I crash into a pillar, ribs screaming in protest. My wings sag. Stars dance in my vision. Through the haze, I see Valentina slash the second sorcerer’s staff, neutralizing his spells. She staggers from the recoil, hair singed, tears tracking down her soot-stained cheeks.

The third sorcerer tries to rally, but I force myself up, illusions swirling again.Everything rides on this.The vow’s clamp tightens on my soul, but with the other anchors destroyed, it doesn’t fully incapacitate me. I conjure a ghostly legion behind the sorcerer, illusions so realistic that he whips around, startled. That half-second is enough. I hurl black flame at the pedestal, pouring the last dredges of power into the strike. The runes across the stone crack in a spiderweb pattern, arcs of arcane lightning flaring outward. The sorcerer shrieks as the backlash sears him, stumbling to his knees.

A deafening boom shakes the chamber. The anchor pedestal explodes, shards of basalt and crystal scattering. My vow surges in a final violent attempt to subdue me, then collapses under its own weight, leaving a resonant emptiness. My illusions flicker, free of the monarchy’s direct clamp. I inhale, feeling the chain that bound me so thoroughly for centuries… undone.Not fully gone,not while the vow remains part of my essence, but it’s severed from the monarchy’s immediate control.

Sweat drips down my horns, my entire body shaking. Valentina rushes to my side, pressing a trembling hand to my cheek. Her eyes brim with relief and fear. “Malphas, you… you did it. Are you still bound?”

I swallow, the vow a distant ache, no longer the collar strangling my every breath. “They can’t force me to kneel,” Irasp. My voice cracks from exhaustion. “But the vow’s threads remain in me. If we don’t perform the unbinding soon, they might reforge it eventually.”

Her jaw sets, determination glowing in her silver eyes. “Then we move fast. They’re still out there—guards, maybe more sorcerers. We have to handle the monarchy’s final stand or retreat to the Wildspont site for our own ritual plan. But I see no sign of the King or his top generals. Maybe they’re deeper inside.”

I nod, scanning the destroyed anchor. Soldiers are surely converging on the antechamber after hearing the explosion. My illusions stir in my mind, no longer strangled by forced compliance.I can fight on my own terms now.My chest swells with savage satisfaction—the monarchy’s greatest weapon just turned fully against them.

But we’re not done. Another thrumming presence resonates deeper in the temple, likely where the monarchy’s high priest or the King’s chosen scion awaits. They’re prepared to recast the vow if they can, or at least kill us before we leave.We have to push on or fall back.

Valentina helps me stand straighter, her free hand trembling at the bandaged slash on her forearm. Her expression flickers with pain, but she steels herself. “Which path? Fight deeper inside, or run?”

My horns dip as I weigh our battered state. But the vow’s partial freedom galvanizes me. “This is the monarchy’s heart. If we flee now, they’ll regroup, chase us again. We end it here.” My illusions are swirling, stronger than they’ve been in ages, no chain forcibly commanding me to hamper them. “We press on. If the King or his High Sorcerer is within, we face them. Then we do the final unbinding—on your terms.”

She squeezes my arm. “Then let’s do it. Together.”