Page 52

Valeria glances at me, voice subdued. “You’ll have to help me walk. My leg isn’t going to carry me far alone.”

“I will,” I say, hooking her arm around my neck. “Lean on me.” My wings lift slightly to balance us both as we move. For a moment, I wonder if I might carry her in my arms, but she shakes her head, pride glinting. I respect that.

Step by painstaking step, we make our way through the labyrinthine corridors.

Broken doorways reveal shattered storerooms, hallways charred by illusions and flame.

The fortress moans like a dying beast. We duck whenever we hear distant footfalls—neither of us can handle a full skirmish.

Our illusions are frayed from overuse, our spells limited.

Yet somehow, we avoid direct confrontation.

The chaos in the upper wards draws the main dark elf force, leaving the lesser passages momentarily clear.

At last, we reach an old postern gate behind a collapsed corridor.

The wooden door, half-ripped from its hinges, faces the wide gorge behind House Draeven.

Once, it served as a hidden exit for scouting parties.

Now, it’s our path to freedom. I brace the door with my shoulder, pushing aside debris until we can slip through.

Cool night air greets us, carrying the scent of smoke and the faint screams from above.

A wave of grief hits me—all that history, all that power, lost in a single night.

But I let it go. House Draeven is no longer mine to claim.

We slip out into the darkness. Stars swirl overhead, the moon tinted red by the haze of distant fires.

The slope beyond leads to a shallow ravine.

We pick our way down carefully, Valeria’s hand gripping my arm.

Her teeth clench at every misstep, but she doesn’t complain.

I admire her grit—no one else has that unbreakable will.

It fuels my resolve: if we’re truly forging a new future, I want her at my side every step.

Once we’re clear of the fortress walls, the sense of oppression lifts slightly.

The combat remains behind us, and while guilt gnaws at me—knowing some of my people still fight—I also accept the necessity of our flight.

We can’t save them from a Council that welcomes betrayal.

My heart hammers with the enormity of what we’re doing.

We’re forsaking House Draeven. We’re rogue.

At the base of the ravine, a narrow track snakes into the dense forest. Trees arch overhead, forming a canopy that rustles in the breeze.

I pause, helping Valeria lower herself onto a fallen log.

We both breathe heavily, exhaustion pressing in.

Her leg wound bleeds anew, staining the makeshift bandage.

“Let me—” I say, reaching to rebind it. She gives a faint nod of permission, though pain creases her brow.

Gently, I tighten the cloth, using the last of my salve.

She exhales in relief, wincing. My stomach twists.

If we don’t find a proper healer soon, this infection could become lethal.

The dark elves or Vrakken might track us. We have no safe haven. And yet…

Valeria touches my wrist. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Then her eyes flick to the towering pines. “Where do we even go? Is there a place the dark elves can’t reach? That your Council can’t find?”

I sigh, sheathing my blade. “We’ll have to vanish, truly.

The known Vrakken territories won’t welcome a half-blood, and my presence might incite more Council fury.

Perhaps the eastern wilds, or even across the sea to lands rarely charted.

” The thought is daunting, but not impossible.

We can travel far from Protheka’s usual lines of conflict if we need to.

She nods slowly, though worry shadows her features. “And you want to sabotage Xathien’s fortress first. That’s no small feat. They have wards, armies, illusions guarding them.”

A swirl of adrenaline kindles in my gut.

“Exactly. But we can’t do it alone. We’ll need allies—maybe not from House Draeven, but from those still loyal to me personally, or from the rescued Vrakken we freed in that caravan.

We can’t gather a large army, but a strike team might suffice if we slip in by stealth. ”

Valeria tilts her head, lips pursed in thought. “We do what we did with the caravan infiltration, only on a bigger scale. You still have contacts who might remain loyal, yes? People who blame the Council for Helrath’s death?”

I exhale, recalling the devastation of Helrath’s murder.

Some of his men might want revenge. “Yes,” I say.

“If we can rendezvous with them, gather intelligence on Xathien’s fortress, then strike swiftly.

We sabotage their labs, free any half-blood captives, destroy as many illusions as we can.

With that fortress crippled, the dark elves lose momentum. Then we vanish.”

She nods, something like determination lighting her eyes. “Let’s do it. I’m done letting them hunt me like an animal. If I can burn their fortress down, I will.”

A fierce swell of admiration pulses in my chest. We are no longer master and pawn. She stands as my equal, her fiery spirit fueling my own. I brush a hand across her cheek, hesitating only a moment before letting my palm settle. She leans into the touch, exhaling shakily.

“Then it’s settled,” I say. “We sever ties with House Draeven entirely. Let the Council call me a traitor. Let them rage. Our priority is dismantling Xathien’s stronghold.”

Her eyes flash with that intense mix of anger and resolve I’ve come to crave. “Fine. You do realize the Council will brand us both fugitives. We might never return to these lands.”

My throat tightens, wings shifting involuntarily.

Never returning. I think of the fortress overhead, the ancestral halls that shaped me, and a pang of grief hits.

But the memory of Helrath’s body on the floor, of Valeria’s tears, steels me.

“They’ve betrayed everything House Draeven was supposed to stand for,” I say.

“We forge a new path. Maybe in time, we can gather enough to challenge the Council or unify scattered Vrakken. But for now, our survival—and toppling that dark elf fortress—must come first.”

She lays a hand atop mine, eyes gleaming. “Then let’s move before the dark elves track us down. How far to your loyalists?”

I blow out a breath. “A few days’ journey east, if we skirt the known roads. An old outpost we used for covert negotiations. I pray those men remain loyal. They were always Helrath’s, not the Council’s.”

Valeria’s jaw sets. “Then that’s where we start. After that… we strike Xathien.”

I help her to her feet again, wincing at her soft hiss of pain.

The forest rustles around us, each snap of a twig putting me on edge.

We have to keep moving before more patrols come searching.

My wings ache, but I push the discomfort aside.

I wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her.

She stiffens slightly—a lingering wariness from all the betrayals—but she allows it.

As we hobble along the faint trail deeper into the forest, the fortress behind us belches smoke.

An orange glow flickers against the night sky, conjuring images of blazing corridors and crumbling stone.

House Draeven is lost to me, maybe forever.

The Council’s claims, my mother’s legacy, the seat of power that was my birthright—I let them slip away into the flames.

All that remains is this vow to keep Valeria alive, to destroy the dark elves’ fortress, and to define my destiny on my own terms.

We move in near-silence, the hush of night broken by the occasional hoot of an owl or the scuttle of small creatures.

The path is rough, tangled with exposed roots.

Valeria’s face is pinched with pain, but she doesn’t complain, and I admire her resilience anew.

At times, I catch her glancing at me, as if verifying I’m still here, that I won’t vanish or proclaim another false condemnation.

Each glance tugs at my chest—a reminder we have a long way to go before trust truly solidifies again.

Still, step by step, we press forward. Eventually, we find a concealed hollow in the roots of a giant oak, large enough to provide shelter from the damp.

Both of us are dead on our feet. Dawn’s faint glow creeps over the horizon, turning the sky a dull gray.

We can’t push further without rest. She sags against the oak’s trunk, eyes heavy.

I gather fallen branches to camouflage the entrance and attempt a minor illusion to cloak us from casual observers.

My magic flickers—my mind drained from the night’s battles. Yet the illusion holds, however flimsy.

Sinking beside her, I offer a small water flask. She gulps greedily, then passes it back. My own throat is parched, tasting of ashes and regret. “We’ll sleep for a few hours,” I say softly. “No more. Then we keep moving. The outpost is more than a day away.”

Valeria nods, gazing at me with a complicated blend of sorrow and guarded acceptance. “All right,” she says. “If we hear anything suspicious, we run.”

I manage a grim smile. “Agreed.” My voice drops.

“Valeria… I know words mean little after what I’ve done, but I want you to know that I choose this path wholeheartedly.

If the Council declares me an enemy, if my mother disowns me, if all Vrakken lands shut us out, I accept that.

I choose you—us—over their broken promises. ”

Her eyes brim with tears she won’t let fall. She exhales. “It’ll take time for me to believe you.” A pause. “But I want to try.”