Page 33

I grit my teeth. “We fight. Or we flee. But this fortress is my domain, and I’m not surrendering it without a struggle.

” I march past her, forcing the black flame around my hands once more.

The swirling illusions outside roil, showing me glimpses of the attackers: squads of dark elf soldiers, assisted by a handful of conjured demons.

Arcane siege weapons are arrayed in the swamp, launching blasts of corrupted energy at my wards. They came prepared.

Valentina pales, glimpsing the illusions that reflect reality. “That many? There must be at least two dozen soldiers out there… plus demons.”

My tail lashes, horns flaring with anger. “They want to bury me for defying the monarchy. And they want you dead. The King must have declared me a traitor, unleashing everything he can muster in a short time.”

Another impact rattles the fortress, sending cracks racing up a pillar. I spin, glaring at the lesser demons huddled at the edges. “All of you,” I roar, voice echoing in the vaulted chamber, “defend our walls! Summon your brood, set illusions, anything. We stand or we all die.”

The Trolvors hiss, Zonaks squeal, scattering to carry out my order. They might be savage and primal, but they know I’m the best chance they have against a dark elf legion. Valentina grips her sword, eyes wide but resolute.

“I’ll help,” she says, voice trembling but determined.

I pause, scanning her battered form. “You’re already hurt from before. And if they see you, they’ll target you.”

She lifts her chin. “I’m not cowering in a corner while they slaughter everyone. This is my fight too.”

Despite the agony roiling in my chest, a twisted sense of respect flares inside me. “Fine,” I concede. “But stay close. If you fall into their hands, it’s over.”

She nods sharply, stepping beside me as we head toward the main gates.

We climb a spiral staircase to an upper rampart that overlooks the courtyard.

The illusions part just enough for us to see the horrific scene beyond the fortress walls: luminous projectiles of arcane energy slam into swirling shadows, scattering illusions that vanish in sparks.

The wetlands roil with rank smoke, and I glimpse black-clad soldiers forming ranks around siege constructs.

Some lesser demons perched on the parapets hurl balefire at the invaders.

Archers among the elves respond with deadly arcs of flaming arrows, peppering the outer walls.

I watch in horror as a Trolvor topples from a turret, shrieking as it falls into the swamp below.

They’re overwhelming my lesser beasts with coordinated attacks.

The fortress wards flicker. The contract’s torment squeezes my ribs, punishing me for resisting King Grymlock. My illusions threaten to collapse entirely. I clench the rampart’s edge so hard my claws gouge stone. I must hold on, or they’ll break through.

Valentina stands at my side, scanning the chaos. “They’re focusing fire on the southwestern tower,” she gasps, pointing. Indeed, a barrage of arcane blasts batters that spire, cracks fracturing the basalt. One more volley might bring it down.

I breathe a ragged snarl, forcing black flame to swirl around my horns, channeling illusions to strengthen that tower. My vision dims, contract pain lancing my skull. I can’t keep this up forever.

A sudden roar echoes from below as an entire chunk of wall collapses in a hail of stone.

Soldiers and lesser demons flood into the courtyard.

My illusions scramble to create phantom guardians, but the real brunt of the fight is physical.

Trolvors and Zonaks swarm the breach, shrieking in savage fury.

The clash of steel and screeches of agony fill the night air.

Valentina tugs my sleeve, eyes wild. “They’ve breached! If we stay up here, we’ll be cut off.”

I grind my teeth, wanting to hold the ramparts. But she’s right. The fortress stands compromised. We have to regroup or risk being trapped in the upper levels. “Down,” I say, voice rough. “We meet them in the main courtyard. We push them out or die trying.”

She nods, determination etched across her face.

Together, we sprint down the spiral steps, illusions swirling haphazardly around me as I attempt to keep random pockets of the fortress protected.

My side throbs, fresh blood staining the bandages.

The contract’s silent demand grinds at my soul.

Kneel, obey, kill her. I snarl inwardly, refusing to submit.

We burst into the courtyard, which has become a battlefield of screaming chaos.

Elves in black armor hack at lesser demons, arcane spells crackling overhead.

Trolvors retaliate with fang and claw, but the coordinated might of the soldiers gains ground.

A few illusions flicker about—colossal illusions of demonic beasts—but the illusions alone can’t stop real steel from slicing flesh.

One soldier spots Valentina. “There!” he yells, eyes flaring with triumph. “The girl is alive! The King wants her head!” He lunges with a spear thrumming with arcane power.

Valentina parries, though the blow staggers her. I roar, stepping in with chaos flame surging around my fists. My illusions glitch around me, horns fully visible for an instant. The soldier’s eyes widen, recognizing me. “Malphas… you’re a traitor!” he snarls.

I hurl a lance of black fire. He tries to dodge, but it clips his shoulder, scorching the armor. He shrieks, dropping the spear. Before he can recover, Valentina drives her short sword into the gap at his side. Blood sprays. He collapses with a strangled cry.

More soldiers converge, fanning out in a semicircle to flank us. My tail whips in frustration. The courtyard stones quake under the barrage of external siege spells. Pillars in the upper galleries crumble, raining debris.

A voice echoes across the battlefield, magnified by arcane means: “Malphas, you stand condemned by the monarchy for treason and demon subterfuge. Surrender the Abyssborn or face annihilation!”

Valentina stiffens beside me. “They really do want me that badly,” she mutters, half in awe, half in horror.

I snarl a response, stepping forward. “You want her? Come take her.” My voice booms, amplified by my fortress’s wards. “I serve you no longer.”

A ripple of shock passes through the elf ranks. They know the contract should keep me in line. My open defiance cements their worst fears: that the chain is cracking. Furious cries erupt from their lines. They now see me as fully beyond redemption.

Arrows streak the air, some tipped with flickering runes to break illusions. We dodge behind a fallen statue, chunks of basalt shielding us. The fortress wards moan in protest, battered by unrelenting siege blasts.

Valentina peeks over the rubble, face drawn. “We can’t hold them off. They have siege weapons, spellcasters, and multiple demon thralls.” She nods toward a juggernaut Gilak demon charging through the breach, smashing a Trolvor underfoot.

My heart twists. They brought a Gilak? Juggernaut demons are nearly unstoppable in open war. And if it’s enthralled by the monarchy, it won’t relent until we’re crushed.

“Fall back inside,” I order, grabbing her arm. “We try to lure them deeper, force them through choke points, or at least buy time.”

She doesn’t argue. We dash across the courtyard, weaving around the bodies of lesser demons.

Some still thrash in death throes, howling curses at the elves.

The air reeks of blood, sulfur, and charred flesh.

Each step sends jolts of agony along my side, the bandage soaked. My illusions waver dangerously.

We sprint through the cracked main doors, back into the grand hall.

Soldiers are already inside, crossing swords with a few Trolvors.

The throne stands at the far end, overshadowed by flickering braziers.

I bellow a challenge, chaos flame swirling around me again.

The soldiers turn, startled to see me so close.

One rushes forward, arcane blade crackling with energy.

Valentina lunges, intercepting him while I conjure illusions of spiked walls to separate the other soldiers.

They slam into intangible barriers, confused, giving us a momentary advantage.

The soldier facing Valentina is skilled, but she blocks his strikes, countering with a slash that drives him off balance.

I seize the opening, ramming a clawed hand into his breastplate.

Chaos flame pours out, cooking him from the inside. He shrieks, collapsing.

Before I can recover, another wave of agony from the contract buckles my knees. King Grymlock’s wrath intensifies. My illusions flicker, the intangible walls dropping. The soldiers beyond them surge forward, shock replaced by renewed aggression.

“Malphas, behind you!” Valentina shouts.

I spin, parrying a spear aimed at my spine.

My tail whips around, cracking against the attacker’s helm.

He staggers, but more fill the hall. They’re flooding in.

A Trolvor leaps from the balcony overhead, tackling two soldiers.

The shrieking ball of limbs smashes into a pillar, toppling it. Stone fragments thunder to the floor.

A high-pitched squeal rings out from deeper within the fortress.

My wards groan a death knell. They’re sabotaging the illusions from inside.

The carefully placed runic lines I carved into the fortress’s heart must be under assault.

If those wards fail completely, the entire structure loses its protective illusions, and more enemies can pour in with ease.

Valentina slashes another soldier’s leg, forcing him to drop. She whirls on me, panting, hair plastered to her temples. “We can’t hold them. They’re everywhere.”