Page 16

Beyond the courtyard, the fortress interior awaits.

We cross a threshold of swirling runes that fizzle beneath our feet.

High arches form a grand corridor leading deeper inside.

Along the stone walls, braziers flicker with ghostly flames—lavender and pale blue—casting dancing shadows.

The temperature here is mild, not the freezing cold of outside, but there’s a dryness to the air that catches in my throat.

We advance until the corridor opens into a large chamber with a vaulted ceiling.

Spiral staircases climb to upper floors on each side, while passages branch off left and right.

At the far end, a dais supports a wickedly carved throne, fashioned from black stone and fused bones.

My domain’s heart—where I once sat in solitary vigil, plotting how to break my chains.

Valentina’s gaze lingers on the throne, a flash of revulsion crossing her features. She peels her eyes away and turns to me, standing in the center of this echoing hall. Her voice trembles slightly. “You live here all alone?”

“Not alone,” I correct, scanning the shadows.

“My lesser demons come and go. But yes, no one shares this space in any meaningful sense. Most fear me.” I stride toward the dais, letting the familiar environment buoy my confidence.

The contract’s oppressive weight feels slightly lighter here, amid wards crafted to blunt the King’s remote power.

She crosses her arms, stepping carefully over cracks in the floor. “I see why the elves don’t attack you outright. This place feels…dangerous, even for them.”

I incline my head, acknowledging the compliment.

My domain is dangerous. But some part of me itches at her matter-of-fact tone, as if she’s unimpressed by my accomplishments.

I quell the flicker of annoyance. She’s a mortal used to survival on her own terms; awe might not come easily to someone who has never had the luxury of feeling safe.

From the corridor on our left, a shape emerges—a lithe Trolvor demon, seven feet tall, its form reminiscent of a lanky reptile with a sinuous tail and angular head crowned with small horns.

It stops short at the sight of us, lips peeling back to reveal fangs.

Claws rake the stone, generating a screeching sound.

Valentina stiffens. Her hand drifts to the dagger, but I raise a warning hand. “Stand down,” I command the Trolvor. My voice resonates with authority, backed by the fortress wards. The demon’s eyes flicker with primal intelligence. Then it lowers its head in submission, backing into the shadows.

She exhales the breath she’s been holding. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

“Did you think I would? This stronghold houses many forms of demonkind.” My tone is clipped. “Come—I’ll show you where you can rest.”

I lead her down a side hall that spirals lower, the walls inscribed with faint runes for illumination.

She steps carefully, boots echoing on the stone steps.

We reach a wide archway opening onto a large chamber.

A basalt slab juts from one wall, shaped into a bed-like alcove.

Another stone bench sits near a brazier that glows with violet flames.

“This is one of the less inhospitable rooms,” I say. “I rarely host guests, so accommodations are sparse. You can sleep here. The wards keep out intruders, though you should remain alert.”

She looks at the basalt slab, pressing a hand to its surface. “Cold,” she mutters.

A snort escapes me. “Better than a muddy alley or an elf’s prison cell.”

“That’s not saying much,” she retorts, but she doesn’t refuse.

I turn my back, scanning the corridor behind us. The Trolvor lingers at the corner, eyeing her with catlike curiosity. A glare from me sends it scuttling away. My wards will ensure it doesn’t try anything foolish, but demons are unpredictable.

When I face Valentina again, she’s examining the brazier’s flames. Her brow furrows. “No wood or fuel. Is it purely magic?”

“All of it is,” I confirm, stepping forward. “Chaos flame, drawn from my power. It renews itself unless I will it to cease.”

She studies me, her expression unreadable. “You built this entire fortress with that same power?”

I incline my head. “Over time, yes. My illusions and from other Soz’garoth blood allowed me to warp the basalt. Enough prying into the art of shaping let me carve wards that shield me from most scrying. Yet the contract can still choke me if the King demands it.”

She stares, lips parted slightly. Questions swirl in her eyes, unasked but tangible. “Is that what happened in the ritual chamber? When you fought them?”

A scowl tugs at my features. “Partially. I overcame it there because your presence caused the magic to falter. I still don’t fully understand how.” My gaze intensifies. “But I will find out.”

A flicker of apprehension crosses her face, and she tucks her coat tighter around her body. “You keep saying that. How exactly do you plan to figure it out?”

I consider her for a moment, then gesture for her to sit on the stone bench. She hesitates but complies. I lower myself to a crouch, wings folding tight against my back, the stone floor cold beneath my knees. My horns cast long shadows on the wall.

“Show me your arm,” I say, voice low.

She draws back, wariness spiking in her eyes. “Why?”

I let out a soft snarl, meant more as impatience than a threat. “I need to see if there’s any outward sign of your blood’s nature. A mark, a rune, something that might hint at your lineage.”

She sets her jaw, but eventually extends her arm. The faint scars from whippings and shackles mar her skin. I run a claw lightly over a bruise, prompting a slight wince. Nothing overt stands out except the bruises and older scars. No hidden glyphs.

“Your eyes,” I murmur. “They’re a strange shade. Metallic silver. Humans typically have brown, blue, green… rarely something like this.”

She tenses, pulling her arm away. “I—I’ve been told that before. Some said it was a birth defect.”

I press my lips together, studying her face. She’s no fragile flower. The shape of her features, the subtle glow in those irises under certain lighting—something sets her apart. “It could be a sign of a demonic ancestor,” I muse, though it’s not conclusive.

She rubs her arm, clearly unsettled. “You don’t know for sure.”

“No. But the archivist we plan to meet might. Don’t forget that’s our next objective once we enter the city again.

” My tail flicks in frustration, scraping the stone floor.

“In the meantime, you’ll remain here. I don’t want you wandering the fortress alone, or venturing outside and triggering the wards by accident. ”

Her expression flares with defiance. “I agreed to your terms, but I’m not a prisoner, am I?”

I straighten, letting my height loom. “You are under my protection—and my control. If you roam without caution, you’ll endanger both of us.

My lesser demons might interpret it as weakness on my part for letting you do as you please.

” A low hiss escapes my throat. “Disobey me, and they may see an opening to challenge me. That leads to chaos. So, for now, you stay put unless I accompany you.”

She scowls, but I see the flicker of understanding. This realm isn’t a safe haven for her, not unless she’s with me. Reluctantly, she nods.

I stand, ignoring the ache in my muscles from the trek. Summoning a bit of chaos flame, I let it swirl around my hand, forming a small orb of light. “I’ll return in a moment,” I say. “There’s something I need to do.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m supposed to trust you’ll come back?”

A humorless smirk tugs at my lips. “Where else would I go? The elves want my head. Besides, you’re more valuable alive than dead—for now.”

She releases a small exhale, as if disappointed but unsurprised. “Fine.”

I exit, leaving the orb floating near the brazier to cast steady light in her makeshift quarters.

The corridor outside feels colder without her presence, though I shake off the odd sensation.

My fortress resonates with me, each ward pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

I can’t sense any direct intrusions, but the presence of a mortal complicates matters.

I ascend a winding staircase leading to one of the fortress’s spires.

Once at the top, I push open a heavy iron door that leads onto a parapet.

The night sky stretches overhead—an eerie swirl of starless black shot with faint red streaks from the fortress’s illusions.

The real sky lies behind my wards, but the illusions create an isolated pocket of reality.

At the tip of the parapet, I place my claws on the rough stone railing, inhaling the crisp air.

Relief ebbs through me, as though stepping onto these battlements reaffirms my dominion.

My wings ache to spread, but I keep them tucked.

I peer into the swirling darkness beyond the fortress boundary.

No sign of elven soldiers or watchers. Likely they’re still clueless about how to breach my wards.

Yet the contract remains a silent weight, coiled around my essence.

The King can’t physically drag me back to Vhoig from here, but if he exerts enough force, he can make me suffer.

I run my talons over my broken horn, recalling how I earned that wound in a desperate struggle against one of his High Sorcerers.

The memory sparks rage. I exhale, letting the cool air temper the anger.

Valentina’s presence stirs new possibilities.

Her blood might disrupt the contract. Or her lineage might hide a key to sever it entirely.

If so, perhaps we can turn the tide. Or maybe I’m chasing a phantom.

Either way, I’ve staked a great deal on this mortal.

My pride chafes at the notion, yet I can’t ignore the reality.