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A trio of dark elf soldiers bursts into the corridor. Their eyes light up at the sight of Valeria. “The half-blood!” one exclaims. Another says, “Lord Xathien will pay richly for her alive.”

My wings snap wide. “Not if I can help it,” I snarl.

We lunge as one: Valeria and I in tandem, attacking with lethal synergy.

She slashes low, severing a soldier’s hamstring.

I bring my blade down on the second soldier’s shoulder, splitting armor and flesh.

The corridor echoes with shrieks. The third soldier tries to flee, but Valeria hurls a dagger that lodges in his back, sending him sprawling.

Our chests heave, the stench of blood thick.

She retrieves her dagger, trembling. Anguish still swims in her eyes, but we have no time to talk.

We push on, clearing passages of straggling enemies.

My heart pounds with every step: the fortress is compromised.

Allies fight or fall in every corridor. We spot a group of House Draeven guards pinned near a staircase, battered by illusions.

We help drive off the dark elves, forging a momentary victory.

Amid the swirling chaos, my mind fixates on Mahir. That traitor must be heading for an exit, or the library to burn records. If we can stop him, we can cripple the dark elves’ advantage. But Valeria’s at risk every second we remain in the open.

We round a corner into a wide hall, only to find the floor stained with fresh blood.

My mother stands at the far end, locked in deadly combat with a cluster of dark elf mages.

She unleashes a swirl of vampiric illusions, her face rigid with fury.

Council members lie sprawled around, some dead, others groaning. The stench of carnage is overwhelming.

As we approach, a dark elf mage hurls a crackling sphere of conjured acid our way. I shove Valeria aside, raising my blade. The sphere splatters across the floor, sizzling. My mother blasts the mage with a wave of dark energy, leaving him a husk. She glances back, meeting my gaze. Relief flickers.

“Vaelorian,” she calls, voice taut, “the fortress is lost if we cannot seal the main gate. They’ve destroyed half our wards from within. We must rally survivors to the keep’s inner sanctum.”

I grit my teeth. So quickly undone. “We’ll help secure the keep.”

Brinda nods, then glances at Valeria. A flash of disapproval crosses her face. “Keep her safe,” she snaps. “If the dark elves capture her, all is lost. Some in the Council still cling to the idea of handing her over, but we cannot let that happen.”

We press forward, side by side with my mother, cutting down any dark elf stragglers in the corridor.

A swirl of illusions crackles around us, but Valeria seems to see through them, guiding us away from booby-trapped corners.

For a moment, it feels like the unstoppable synergy we once dreamt of: mother, son, and half-blood operative forging a path through the carnage.

Abruptly, a Vrakken guard stumbles forward, blood staining his armor. He gasps out words: “Lord Vaelorian… the main gate… more soldiers storm inside… they speak your name, claiming they have your ally. They say… they’ve taken Helrath’s body.”

My stomach roils with fresh rage. “They’ll pay for that.” Helrath was dear to me, a stalwart friend. The betrayal rips at my soul. We press on.

At the next junction, I realize the swirling illusions intensify.

The hallway flickers with half-formed shapes, twisted images to confound us.

The dark elves must be using advanced spells to sow chaos.

My mother curses under her breath. Valeria, though, hesitates, brow furrowing.

She closes her eyes, focusing on her half-Vrakken senses.

With a trembling breath, she touches the runic tokens at her belt.

The illusions ripple. She’s unraveling them.

Awe and heartbreak flood me—we rely on her unique power even as the Council condemns her.

Suddenly, an explosion rocks the hall. Rubble crashes down, sealing off a section. My mother shields her eyes as dust billows. “They’re bringing the fortress down around us,” she spits.

A swirl of shapes leaps from the dust—dark elf shock troopers, illusions flickering around their spiked armor.

I snarl, brandishing my sword. We clash in a dizzying flurry of steel and crackling magic.

Brinda tears into them with arcs of vampiric energy.

Valeria ducks a spear thrust, ramming her dagger into a soldier’s rib cage.

I lash out with a wing strike, hurling another soldier into a collapsed pillar.

But more keep coming. My mother grimaces, lips twisting. “We can’t hold them forever. We must regroup with any survivors in the inner sanctum and form a last stand or retreat. House Draeven’s defense wards are mostly sabotaged.”

The weight of hopelessness presses on me.

Is House Draeven truly falling in a single night?

We must rescue as many as we can. Valeria is panting, a bruise darkening her cheek, her left arm bleeding.

I hiss in frustration, scanning the corridor for an exit path.

The illusions swirl again, hinting at a hidden side passage beyond.

Then a voice slices through the din: “Vaelorian! We have her cornered. No need to fight further. Surrender the half-breed, and we’ll show mercy to the rest.”

My head whips around. A dark elf officer stands in the rubble of the collapsed hallway, flanked by half a dozen soldiers. He holds up a battered, bloodstained House Draeven crest—likely Helrath’s, torn from his corpse. My fury boils. “You’ll pay for that,” I snarl.

He sneers. “Spare me the bravado. Give us the hybrid, and we’ll spare your mother and your precious Council. Otherwise, we burn your fortress to the ground.”

Valeria stiffens, eyes flicking to me. I sense her trembling—fear, anger, betrayal.

My mother’s face is pale with fury, illusions swirling around her fists.

The officer barks a laugh. “Oh, and by the way—your beloved ally Mahir sends his regards. He’s quite grateful for the intel your fortress shared so graciously. ”

It’s all clear now. Mahir orchestrated the sabotage, pinned blame on Helrath, opened the gates. My mother’s expression suggests she, too, realizes the extent of the betrayal. She growls, stepping forward, but I hold her back. Our forces are scattered, the fortress compromised. She’d be overwhelmed.

We can’t hand Valeria over, but if we fight here, we all perish. A wave of illusions floods the hall, forcing us back as rubble crumbles overhead. The dark elves press in, forging a ring around us. My mother and I exchange a desperate glance.

We only have one option: a strategic retreat, deeper into the fortress’s labyrinth. If we get to the hidden corridors below the keep, we might reorganize. But the illusions hamper us, and the dark elves are focusing on Valeria. Their taunting officer steps closer, spear leveled.

I meet Valeria’s gaze, heart twisting at the terror in her eyes, the memory of how I feigned betrayal in the council chamber.

I must stage it again… or all is lost. My mother’s presence demands we defend ourselves, but the illusions swirl, pinning us in a dead-end corridor.

The structure trembles overhead, dust raining.

If we remain trapped, the entire ceiling might collapse.

Snarling, I whisper to Valeria, “Play along.” She frowns, uncertain. Then I turn to the dark elf officer, letting my wings sag as if in defeat. “I… I yield,” I call, voice echoing. “You can have her. She’s the cause of this ruin.”

Valeria’s cry of betrayal knifes through me again.

I see it in her face: heartbreak, outrage.

She believes I’m truly handing her over this time.

She doesn’t realize it’s another ploy to confuse the dark elves, to draw them in so maybe we can slip away.

Her tears glisten, and it breaks what’s left of my heart. But I must keep the ruse going.

The officer laughs, triumphant, beckoning his soldiers. “Wise choice, Prince of House Draeven.” They surge forward to claim Valeria, illusions parting. My mother hisses, uncertain whether to strike or follow my lead. I give her a subtle hand signal: wait.

At the last second, I roar and lunge at the illusions, my mother unleashing her vampiric wave.

Valeria leaps backward, confusion on her face, but she fights too.

The illusions collapse, scything half the dark elves.

The corridor shakes with another explosion from deeper in the fortress.

Dust blinds me for a moment, and I lose sight of Valeria.

When the dust settles, the officer is gone—fled or buried under rubble. The few soldiers left are strewn across the corridor, many dying from Brinda’s magic or my sword. My mother staggers, clutching a wound on her side. “We… must retreat,” she rasps. “Find another route to the keep.”

I blink dust from my eyes. “Where’s Valeria?” My voice cracks with panic. I spin, searching the collapsed hallway. No sign of her. Broken stones litter the ground, twisted illusions still flicker. Could she have run, believing I truly betrayed her again?

My mother steadies herself. “We have no time. The fortress is compromised. If she’s lost in the corridors?—”

I set my jaw, ignoring the heartbreak pounding in my chest. Valeria likely fled, convinced I’ve sold her out for real.

A wave of regret nearly cripples me. But I can’t linger.

The fortress walls quake again, ominous cracks forming overhead.

We must regroup. If the dark elf officer or Mahir hunts her, they might snare her in the labyrinth.

She believes me a traitor, so she’ll never let me find her. The thought is agony.

“Mother,” I say hoarsely, “rally what forces we have in the keep. I’ll search for Valeria.”

She shakes her head, hair wild with dust. “We can’t split. The keep is our stronghold. If I can reinitialize some wards, we might salvage the fortress or at least buy time.” Her eyes hold steeled authority. “Come with me.”

“Valeria is out there, alone,” I protest. My wings flare, reflecting my desperation. “I can’t let them take her. She’s crucial?—”

“She is,” my mother snaps, “but so is House Draeven. If the keep falls, where will you bring her? The Council might blame you for everything. We must stand or flee en masse.”

Indecision tears me apart. Duty to House Draeven, or saving Valeria from the illusions.

The fortress rumbles, fresh debris falling.

My mother seizes my arm. “Decide, Vaelorian, or we all die. If you vanish to find her, the keep might be lost—and with it, any hope of repelling the dark elves. Or your Council seat. Are you prepared for that?”

I hesitate. Valeria is my priority, yet if House Draeven collapses, even if I find her, we’ll have no sanctuary. The swirl of dust thickens. Another explosion quakes the corridor, forcing me to brace a hand on the wall. Biting back tears, I nod. “Very well. The keep first. Then we search.”

She exhales. “Come. Time is short.”

We dash off, leaving behind the corridor of shattered illusions and mutilated bodies.

In my chest, a storm rages. I can’t abandon Valeria.

But for now, the keep is paramount—and the last anchor that might let me gather enough power to rescue her from the chaos I inadvertently unleashed.

My blood runs cold at the notion that she thinks I’ve truly cast her aside.

As we run, I vow silently: I will find you, Valeria. I will fix this monstrous ruse, no matter what it costs. But for now, from her perspective, I’ve condemned her to face the dark elves alone. And that betrayal might shatter any fragile trust that remains between us.

All is lost, I think bitterly, as we race toward the keep.

Smoke and illusions swirl, House Draeven on the brink of ruin, and the woman I’d do anything to protect scattered in the fortress’s labyrinth.

If she survives, she’ll likely never forgive me.

If she falls… I can’t bear to finish that thought.