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T he decision solidifies in my mind, both fragile and resolute.

The Council has orchestrated this nightmare, pulling the strings of fate while Kaelen and I remain mere pawns in their game.

I refuse to let it stand without uncovering the truth behind their schemes.

I turn to Azrael, the fire in my gaze finally meeting his.

“I refuse to be their weapon. If the Council believes they can use me, I’ll give them something they won’t expect: defiance.

But I can’t fight blindly, Azrael. I need to understand what they’re planning, and why. ”

A flicker of approval crosses his face, though his tone remains steady. “Good. Then we’ll do this together. The Council is cautious, but not invincible. If they’ve gone to such lengths to manipulate you and Kaelen, there are cracks in their foundation. We need to uncover them.”

I nod, feeling the enormity of the task pressing down on my chest. “I can’t do this alone,” I admit, my voice softer. “And Kaelen... he deserves to know what’s at stake. But if I tell him too soon...”

Azrael’s expression darkens, and the fire in his eyes cools into something sharper. “If you tell him now, you risk alerting the Council. Kaelen is strong, but his loyalty to the treaty and the bond could cause him to hesitate. We can’t afford hesitation until we know exactly what we’re up against.”

His words sting, piercing the part of me that wants to believe Kaelen would stand by me unconditionally. But I know Azrael is right. The bond between Kaelen and me complicates

everything, leaving me ensnared between trust and fear.

“So, where do we begin?” I ask, trying to steady my voice despite the turmoil churning within me. Azrael crosses his arms, his brow furrowed as he thinks. “The Council’s power

isn’t absolute. They depend on their network of informants, enforcers, and ancient magic. If we can disrupt even one part of their web, we’ll compel them to react. And when they do, we’ll uncover the truth.”

A spark of an idea flickers in my mind, faint but promising. “The scroll,” I exclaim suddenly. “The one you gave me it’s proof of their lies. There must be more: documents, records,

something that reveals their true intentions.”

Azrael nods, his eyes brightening with agreement. “The

Council stores their most sensitive documents in the archives below the palace. Breaking in won’t be easy, but we can slip in unnoticed if we’re cautious.”

The risk sends a chill down my spine, but I push it aside. “What if we’re caught?”

Azrael smirks, the fire in his gaze flashing dangerously. “Then we fight. But if we execute this correctly, they won’t

even know we were there.”

The idea of sneaking into the Council’s archives seems

impossible, yet his steady confidence reassures me and keeps my fear at bay. For the first time in days, I sense a glimmer of control returning to me.

“We need a plan,” I say, my thoughts racing. “And a way to get past the guards without attracting attention.”

Azrael’s grin sharpens. “Leave that to me; I’ve had years to perfect the art of slipping through shadows.”

His confidence strengthens mine, though I realise this is just the beginning. The Council’s deceptions, the connection with Kaelen, the storm brewing on the horizon, everything teeters on a fragile edge. But for now, I have a mission.

Azrael leans closer, his voice low and fierce. “Rest tonight, Elara. Tomorrow, we begin unravelling the Council’s web. And they won’t know what hit them when the time comes.”

I meet his gaze, a surge of determination swelling within me.

“Let’s make them regret ever thinking they could control me.

” With those words, the pact between us is sealed.

The Council may hold the threads of fate, but I am no longer their puppet.

Together, Azrael and I will uncover the truth and, if necessary,

dismantle their schemes piece by piece.

The hours before dawn stretch long and silent. Despite

Azrael’s urging, sleep refuses to come. My mind churns endlessly, questions without answers, plans lacking clarity, fears that refuse to fade.

What secrets lie hidden in the Council’s archives?

What truths about the bond, the treaty, and my role in their schemes linger in the shadows? And what will I do when I uncover them?

When the first rays of sunlight filter through the window, I push myself up, my determination solidifying like tempered steel.

Whatever lies ahead, there’s no turning back now.

By mid-morning, I find Azrael waiting in the shadow of an old garden arch near the palace’s western wing.

He’s dressed in dark, unobtrusive clothing, his fiery intensity subdued into a calm, predatory focus.

“You ready?” he asks, though his tone clearly indicates he expects no hesitation.

I nod. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Without a word, he hands me a slim dagger, its hilt wrapped in worn leather. “Just in case,” he says, his voice low. “Not that I intend to let anyone come close enough for you to use it.”

The cool weight of the blade feels oddly reassuring in my hand. I nod again, holding it tightly. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Azrael leads me along a rarely used path through the palace grounds, his movements precise and silent. I follow closely behind, my heart pounding as the towering walls of the Council chambers loom ever larger.

“The archives are beneath the east wing,” Azrael whispers as we approach a narrow stone staircase leading down. “They are guarded, of course, but their patrols are predictable. Stick close, and we’ll be in and out before they notice.”

My pulse quickens. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Anything about the bond, the treaty, or the prophecy,” he replies. “If we’re lucky, something incriminating enough to shatter their control over you and Kaelen.”

The staircase spirals downward into the earth, the air growing cooler and heavier with each step. At the bottom, Azrael halts, listening intently before gesturing for me to follow. Flickering torches dimly lit the corridor ahead, and faint footsteps echoed in the distance.

Azrael motions for me to wait as he moves ahead, his movements so fluid and silent that he seems to melt into the shadows. Minutes later, he returns, his expression grim yet steady.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” he murmurs. “We’ll need a distraction.”

Before I can ask, he presses a small vial into my hand. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, like moonlight trapped in glass. “Drop this near the corner when I signal,” he instructs. “It’ll release harmless smoke, enough to distract them. Once they’re

preoccupied, we move.”

I grip the vial tightly, my stomach twisting with nerves, and

nod. Without another word, Azrael slips away, positioning himself near the guards. Moments later, his signal comes, a sharp, silent motion that propels me into action.

I step forward, uncorking the vial and tipping its contents onto the cold stone near the corner.

The liquid hisses and evaporates, curling into a silvery mist that snakes through the air like a living entity.

“What’s that?” one guard mutters, his voice tense.

“ Check it out,” the other replies, already stepping toward the smoke.

The instant they move, Azrael motions for me to follow.

Together, we slip through the entrance and into the vast chamber beyond.

The archives are massive, their walls lined with towering shelves crammed with scrolls, tomes, and crumbling records.

The faint scent of aged parchment mingles with the chill of the stone air.

“Spread out,” Azrael whispers. “We don’t have much time. Look for anything that stands out.” I nod and begin searching, my fingers trembling slightly as I scan the shelves. Scrolls and books blur together, their titles an indecipherable mix of ancient scripts and obscure symbols.

My eyes fall on a crimson-bound tome, its edges adorned with intricate gold filigree. Something about it feels off, the air around it humming faintly with suppressed power.

“Azrael,” I call softly, holding up the book. He’s beside me in an instant, his sharp gaze narrowing as he takes it from my hands. “This is it,” he says, his voice low yet urgent.

“There’s magic woven into the binding, it’s meant to protect something important.” Before I can respond, a distant shout echoes from the corridor outside. My heart leaps into my throat.

“They’ve noticed,” Azrael says grimly, clutching the tome tightly to his chest. “We need to move. Now.” His hand grabs mine, and we’re running, weaving through the endless rows of shelves toward the nearest exit.

My pulse thunders in my ears as the chase begins, every step bringing us closer to both freedom and the unknown.

The labyrinthine halls of the archives twist and turn as Azrael leads me forward, his movements swift and deliberate.

Behind us, the faint echoes of footsteps and shouted orders grow louder.

The guards are closing in. My heart pounds in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to run faster, to escape, but Azrael’s firm grip on my hand keeps me grounded and steady.

“We need to lose them,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder, my breath quick and shallow .

Azrael’s jaw tightens, his eyes burning with fierce determi- nation. “Trust me,” he says, his voice calm but unyielding.

Without breaking stride, he veers sharply into a narrow side passage, pulling me along. The walls close in around us, the air growing colder and heavier as the corridor slopes downward. The shouts behind us begin to fade, muffled by the twists and turns of the path.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice breathless.

“There’s an old service tunnel ahead,” Azrael replies, not slowing. “It’ll take us out of the palace grounds if we can reach it in time.”

How does he know so much about the palace? Strange.

At last, a small, rusted door appears at the end of the passage, nearly hidden in the dim light. Azrael releases my hand and steps forward, his movements sharp and precise as he draws a slim blade from his belt and begins to work on the lock.

“Hurry!” I urge, the sound of boots echoing louder behind us as the guards close in quickly.

The lock clicks open just as the first shadows stretch into the passage. Without hesitation, Azrael pushes the door open to reveal a narrow, damp tunnel that disappears into darkness.

“In,” he commands, signalling for me to proceed first.

I duck into the tunnel, the cold, earthy air wrapping around me like a second skin. Azrael slips in after me, pulls the door shut, and locks it from the inside. For a moment, silence falls, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing.

“This way,” Azrael says, his voice low yet urgent as he guides us deeper into the tunnel.

The minutes stretch endlessly as we wind through the dark, twisting passage.

My thoughts are heavy with the weight of the crimson tome clutched in Azrael’s hands.

Whatever secrets it holds, I can sense the danger radiating from it like heat.

This book might hold the key to unravelling the Council’s lies, but at what cost?

Finally, a faint light appears ahead. The tunnel opens into a secluded grove at the edge of the palace grounds. Azrael begins scanning the area with a sharp, predatory focus before signalling for me to follow.

“We are in the clear,” he says softly.

I stumble into the grove, my legs trembling as I sink to the ground, overwhelmed by exhaustion and adrenaline. “That was too close,” I mutter, pressing a hand to my chest to steady my breathing.

Azrael crouches beside me, his sharp gaze softened only slightly. “Close, but successful,” he says, placing the crimson tome on the ground between us. The gold filigree gleams faintly in the moonlight, as if mocking the weight of the truth we are about to uncover.

“What now?” I ask, my voice wavering yet filled with resolve.

Azrael’s expression hardens, his fiery intensity rekindling. “Now we see what the Council didn’t want you to discover.”

He pulls out a small blade and gently presses it against the magical seal binding the book. The air around it shimmers faintly, as an invisible force pushes back against his efforts.

“This seal won’t hold forever,” he mutters. “But they’ve woven powerful magic into this. Whatever’s inside, they didn’t want anyone discovering it.”

I watch, my mind spinning with questions. Why go to such lengths to protect this? What could be so dangerous that even the Council feared it would fall into the wrong hands?

Finally, with a gentle crack, the magical seal dissolves into wisps of faint light. Azrael opens the book slowly, his eyes scanning the pages with increasing intensity.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning closer, unable to suppress the tremor in my voice.

He doesn’t respond immediately. When he finally speaks, his tone is serious. “It’s about the bond. How it’s formed, its purpose... and its consequences.”

My stomach drops. “Consequences?”

Azrael turns the book toward me, pointing to a passage written in flowing, ornate script. As I read the words, a chill seeps through my body, much colder than the night air.

The bond isn’t merely a connection or a unifying tool.

It’s a siphon, a meticulously crafted mechanism designed to extract the life force of the bonded pair, channelling it into the Council’s magic.

The stronger the bond, the more power they harness.

And when the pair has nothing left to give? Destruction is the only result.

“They’re using us,” I whisper, my voice trembling with fury. “Kaelen and I, we’re nothing more than fuel for their power.” Azrael clenches his fists at his sides, his fiery energy barely

restrained. “They are parasites, Elara. They hide behind treaties and prophecies while draining the life of others for their own gain.”

A surge of defiance rises in me, sharp and unrelenting. It burns hotter than fear and stronger than doubt. “We have to stop them,” I say, my voice steadier now. “If we don’t, they’ll keep doing this, destroying lives, tearing people apart, just to maintain their power.”

Azrael nods, his determination mirroring my own. “Then we start here.” He taps the crimson tome. “Their secrets are their greatest weapon. Now, they belong to us.”

As the moonlight filters through the trees, a strange calm envelops me. The Council believed they could control and bind me to their will. They were mistaken.

The fight is far from over, but for the first time, I am prepared to confront it.