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I shake my head gently. “No one forced me. We chose. That’s what matters now.”

We share a soft silence, the forest hush enveloping us. The sunrise continues, painting the sky in pastel hues. My chest swells with a sense of raw triumph—we overcame the monarchy, shattered the vow, and now we’re at the threshold of a new future. My horns pulse, but this time the ache is gentle, a reminder of my metamorphosis.

Eventually, Malphas sighs, illusions flickering around his horns. “We can’t stay here forever. The monarchy might have stragglers. And we’re both still healing.”

I nod, letting him help me rise. My legs wobble from the intensity of our union, a flush creeping up my cheeks. “We’ll find a safer spot,” I agree. “Somewhere we can rest without the monarchy’s shadow.”

He casts a final glance at the ridge, scanning the horizon with narrowed crimson eyes. “Yes… and once we’re strong again, we can decide how to handle whatever lurks beneath the monarchy’s temple. Or whether to reclaim your old Lowtown, or my fortress. Everything is open to us now.”

A frisson of excitement flutters in my chest. “Everything,” I echo. The vow is gone. My life no longer chained by prophecy. I slip my hand into his broad one—claws and all—finding comfort in the difference in size. He squeezes gently, illusions swirling in a soft halo around our joined hands.

We gather our scattered belongings, rummaging for a half-eaten ration. The forest birds begin their morning chorus. The chill in the air lifts with each passing minute. I sense theforest’s vibrancy in a new way—my demon side attuning me to subtle energies. A faint hum resonates, as if the ground itself acknowledges our presence. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I can’t dismiss it.

As we step away from the ridge, following a narrow animal trail, I pause for one last look at the sunrise. “We have a chance at a real life,” I murmur. “No vow, no monarchy hunting us. We can choose what we become.”

Malphas slows, illusions rippling around his horns. “I’d like that,” he says quietly. “I’d like to find out who I am without them controlling me. And who we are, together.”

A smile curves my lips. I recall how we once collided in anger and desperation. Now, tenderness hums between us, forging a different bond—not forced, but chosen. “We have time,” I say. “We can build whatever future we want.”

He draws me against his side, pressing a light kiss to my temple, careful of the horn’s base. My cheeks flush. “Then let’s begin,” he whispers.

We vanish into the canopy, illusions weaving a gentle camouflage. The day stretches before us in infinite possibility. My horns ache, my runes tingle, but I walk with new confidence. Malphas strides at my side, every step freed from the vow’s chain. Together, we chart a course deeper into the wilderness, searching for a small glade or sheltered cave where we can truly rest, talk about tomorrow, and explore the new closeness we’ve found without fear.

Hours later, we discover a tranquil glen near a crystal-clear stream, the midday sun glittering on the ripples. The grass is lush, soft enough for us to recline. I drink from the stream, letting the cold water soothe my parched throat. Malphas kneels beside me, his reflection rippling in the water—a demon unbound, horns curving proudly, illusions swirling around his shoulders in lazy arcs. My own reflection stares back, silver eyesluminous, small horns perched on my crown. I feel no terror at the sight, only a fragile acceptance.

He catches me staring at our reflections, illusions dancing. “You’re not horrified?”

I shake my head. “No. Surprised, maybe. But I lived as a powerless mortal for so long, and it nearly destroyed me. Now, I have a chance to protect myself—and protect you. So no, I’m not horrified.”

A faint breath of relief escapes him. “I’m glad.”

We retreat to a patch of sun-warmed grass, and I sprawl there, letting the heat soak into my bruised muscles. Malphas settles next to me, wings curving to shade my face. The hush of the stream mingles with the rustle of trees. My limbs feel like lead, but for once, exhaustion is a comfort rather than dread.

He folds his arms behind him, illusions rippling with each breath. “It’s strange, not anticipating the vow’s next lash. I keep bracing for it, only to find… nothing.”

I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand. “I used to flinch whenever I heard an elf’s footsteps behind me, expecting a whip or a summons. Now, that fear is… muted. We’re free in ways we never imagined.”

He smiles, a small, genuine curve of his lips, illusions mirroring the gentle mood. “Yes.” Then his gaze slides to my horns again, a mixture of curiosity and attraction. “May I… see them more closely?”

A flutter sparks in my belly. “They won’t vanish,” I tease, but I scoot nearer, letting him carefully inspect the base of the horns. His claws pass near my hairline, a light touch that sends goosebumps rippling down my arms. The sunlight glints on the smooth, dark bone.

“They’re smaller than mine,” he remarks softly, “but they complement your face. You look… strong.”

Warmth floods my cheeks. I recall our final confrontation, how the runes flared across my body, how I almost believed I’d die. Instead, I stand here, half-demon, uncertain but alive. “I guess we both carry scars and horns, inside and out,” I say quietly. “But maybe that’s what binds us now.”

He dips his head in agreement, illusions forming delicate patterns around our joined shadows. “Then let’s carry them together.”

We rest in that clearing for the rest of the afternoon, gathering wild berries and a small rabbit Malphas snares with illusions. We share a meager meal, but it tastes better than any feast in Lowtown’s memory. The sky remains clear, sun bright overhead. Each minute, my tension unwinds, replaced by a cautious, beautiful hope. We are free.

As evening approaches, we laze in the last rays of sunlight. Malphas reclines on his back, wings half-spread, illusions swirling in lazy arcs that shimmer with gold and blue tones. I sit at his side, fiddling with the hilt of my sword. My horns ache less, the runes on my arms almost invisible in the gentle light. Everything is quiet except for the hush of the stream, a lullaby for our battered souls.

Eventually, he shifts, turning his head to me. “Valentina,” he says, voice low and earnest. “I never dreamed I’d find peace with someone. A real bond. My world was illusions and compulsion. But now…” He trails off, exhaling. “I want you to know, I choose this. I choose you, freely.”

Emotion clogs my throat. I set my sword aside, sliding closer until our arms brush. “Then we share the choice,” I whisper, leaning in. “Because I choose you too. Demon or not, vow or not, I want… this. Us.”

He lifts a hand to caress my cheek, illusions shimmering in a subtle glow around his horns. The tenderness in his gaze ignites a flutter in my chest. We share a soft kiss, slow and unhurried.This time, no frantic rush, no battle raging outside. Just the quiet forest, the last of the evening sun, and two souls forging a new beginning.

Our bond—once forced, now freed—kindles a gentle flame, burning bright in the gathering dusk. The monarchy might gather their broken shards, and something stirs beneath the earth, but we face it together, horns and illusions shining in unison. My heart swells as we linger in that embrace, the hush of nightfall covering us like a peaceful cloak.