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Chaos ignites. Council members leap from their seats, shouting contradictory orders.

My mother’s face hardens, and she barks commands for immediate defense.

I spin, wings unfurling instinctively, searching the crowd for Valeria.

She stands near a pillar, eyes wide, knuckles white around a dagger’s hilt.

Our gazes lock across the swirling mass of frantic Vrakken.

The dark elves are here. They forced the fortress gates or found a hidden entry—someone must have guided them in.

So it’s happening. The betrayal is real.

My mind whirls. Which ally leaked the details?

Helrath has no motive, I’m certain. That leaves Mahir or someone else trying to frame him.

I grit my teeth. No time to unravel it fully—we must protect Valeria from a direct assault. The dark elves want her above all else.

I fight through the scramble of councilors to reach her side. “Valeria,” I say, voice taut, “we’re compromised. We have to get you out before they corner you.”

She nods, though fear and anger flicker in her gaze. “Where do we go?”

I try to quell the panic roiling in my gut. If the fortress is compromised, the old infiltration routes might be blocked. “Follow me,” I say, gesturing for her to keep close. “There’s a hidden corridor beyond the west wing?—”

Suddenly the main doors to the chamber burst open again, this time revealing a squad of dark elf soldiers clad in black leather and obsidian armor.

They surge in, weapons drawn, illusions swirling.

Shouts ring out as councilors scramble backward, some drawing their own blades.

I snarl, stepping in front of Valeria, brandishing my spelled sword.

Chaos erupts. Dark elves slash at unsuspecting Vrakken, illusions crackle overhead, and I catch a glimpse of my mother unleashing a savage wave of vampiric magic that sends a pair of dark elves flying.

The carnage is immediate—blood on polished floors, the ring of steel against steel, shrieks of council members not used to direct combat.

I block a blow aimed at me, stumbling as the force jars my arm. My wings flare for balance.

Valeria ducks a sword strike from a snarling dark elf officer.

She counters with a swift slash that carves across his side.

He howls, stumbling. My chest tightens with savage admiration.

She’s fighting for her life, as always. Another soldier lunges from behind, and I intercept, driving my blade through his chest. Hot blood splatters.

Then I see a tall figure behind the attacking soldiers—a dark elf lieutenant, calling orders to “Find the half-blood!” My stomach lurches.

They know exactly who they want. If they fixate on her now, pinned in this chamber with so many enemies, we risk losing everything.

The entire fortress might fall if the dark elves seize her.

I need a ruse. The flicker of an idea forms. A horrifying strategy, but it might be the only way to keep her alive while we gather a defense.

If the dark elves think I’m abandoning her, they might lower their guard, believe she’s unprotected.

I loathe the thought, but in the swirl of crisis, it’s our best chance to lure them off-balance and let me strike from another angle.

I spin, catching Valeria’s arm mid-fight.

She gasps as I drag her out of the fray for a split second.

My eyes blaze with urgency. “Trust me,” I breathe.

“No matter what happens, trust me.” Without waiting for her reply, I push her away with a snarl, turning to bellow at the soldiers, “Do what you want with her—I wash my hands of this half-blood abomination!”

Her face contorts in betrayal, shock flooding her wide eyes.

I see the heartbreak there, but I force my expression into cold fury.

If this works, the dark elves will believe I’ve surrendered her to them.

They’ll swarm her, but Helrath—assuming he’s not the traitor—can help me strike from behind.

This is the cruelty of House Draeven’s strategy: illusions within illusions.

Valeria staggers back, a cry of raw hurt forming on her lips. “Vaelorian, what?—?”

A wave of dark elf illusions crashes toward her, but I step aside as if washing my hands of her.

My heart lurches painfully at her wounded expression, but I keep my face an icy mask, loud enough for the dark elves to hear me.

“Take her if you must—she’s the reason our fortress is under siege!

” I roar, injecting every ounce of scorn into my tone. “She’s worthless to us now.”

She reels as if I physically struck her.

My insides twist in guilt. Her tears glimmer for an instant before she sets her jaw, lifting her blade to face the encroaching soldiers.

She must think I’ve truly betrayed her. The heartbreak in her eyes cuts deeper than any sword, but I cannot yield.

If I show a hint of compassion now, the ruse crumbles.

Dark elf soldiers rush forward, half in triumph, half in caution.

They believe I’m letting them claim Valeria uncontested.

Some turn to me with sneers—like they can’t fathom a Vrakken giving up so easily.

I’ll let them think what they want. I back away slowly, letting them see the scorn on my face.

Then, under the swirling illusions, I slip behind a pillar, wings tucking to avoid detection.

Chaos intensifies around Valeria as she fights alone, desperately fending off thrusts and illusions.

My chest screams to leap in and defend her openly, but that would ruin the plan.

If I wait until they’re overconfident, I can strike from the flank, maybe open a path to Helrath or my mother so we can regroup.

I scan the crowd for Helrath. He’s engaged in a brutal clash near the dais, hacking at a dark elf’s shield.

For a heartbeat, his gaze meets mine across the chamber.

He sees my posture, realizes what I’ve done.

Recognition dawns in his eyes—he understands the ruse.

Thank the gods. We just need to coordinate our next move.

But then, from behind Helrath, a figure emerges—Mahir.

My alleged ally. He raises a dagger, face twisted with grim resolve.

Before I can shout a warning, Mahir plunges the blade into Helrath’s back.

My loyal warrior staggers, eyes bulging in shock, blood staining his lips.

Betrayal. Mahir wrenches the blade out, letting Helrath collapse in a heap.

The swirl of combat hides it from most, but I witness every horrifying second, chest constricting.

I choke on a soundless roar, heart hammering.

Mahir is the real traitor. Helrath never turned on me.

I watch in sickened disbelief as Mahir steps away, allowing a dark elf soldier to finish off Helrath’s prone form.

Then Mahir merges into the crowd, heading for an exit.

My mind reels. He orchestrated everything.

He sold out Valeria, staged Helrath’s guilt, and led the dark elves to our doorstep.

Rage surges, molten and unrelenting. I want to tear after him, but I also see Valeria pinned in a ring of hostile soldiers.

She’s bleeding from a shallow cut on her shoulder, illusions crackling around her as she tries to repel them.

Focus. We must save her first. Helrath is lost…

The horror of it almost paralyzes me. But I can’t let his sacrifice be in vain.

I gather the spells on my blade, stepping out from the pillar at an oblique angle.

The dark elves have circled Valeria, not noticing me.

Perfect. My sword flares with swirling runes.

Bellowing a war cry, I hurl a wave of vampiric magic across the ring of soldiers.

They reel, illusions shattering. Valeria gasps, stumbling back from the concussive burst.

In the shock, I slice through the nearest soldier’s side, spin to behead another.

A third tries to parry, but I knock him off balance with a powerful wing buffet.

Then I’m at Valeria’s flank, reversing the ruse in a heartbeat.

She stares at me, eyes wide, betrayal mingled with confusion and relief.

I see a tear on her cheek, and it guts me.

This was the only way, I want to tell her.

Instead, I focus on clearing a path to the hall.

“Go!” I shout, voice raw. “We can’t hold them here.”

She hesitates, a thousand unspoken accusations behind her eyes.

Then with a fierce nod, she lunges forward, blade sweeping to cut down a soldier who tries to block her.

I tear through another pair of illusions, forging an opening.

The council chamber is half in flames now, or near it—one of the torches must have overturned in the chaos. Smoke thickens the air.

We dash into the corridor, leaving the main throng behind.

My mother is nowhere in sight—likely leading the defense deeper inside.

Screams echo from multiple directions. The fortress is under full assault.

Dark elves swarm, presumably aided by Mahir’s knowledge.

My fury flares again at the memory of Helrath’s murder.

Valeria stumbles, coughing from the smoke. I catch her elbow. Our gazes lock for a tense second. She wrenches free. “You—bastard,” she rasps, tears shining. “I thought… you left me. I thought you gave me up.”

Pain lances through me. “I had to make them think?—”

She slams her free hand against my chest, shaking her head. “You humiliated me in front of everyone, letting them believe I was worthless to you.” Her voice cracks. “I—thought you truly cast me aside.”

I swallow thickly. “Forgive me. I prayed you’d trust me enough to see it was a ruse.” I can’t elaborate—footsteps pound around the corner. More dark elves, or perhaps traitorous Vrakken. Valeria curses, pressing herself against the wall, blade at the ready. Our crisis remains.