Page 45

MALPHAS

A dull ache throbs behind my ribs, reminding me of every vow and betrayal that has led to this point.

I straighten my shoulders, wings twitching as the final vestiges of the illusions swirl around my claws.

I’m weary down to my bones, yet my heart hammers with a fierce determination I haven’t felt in centuries.

This is where we make our stand— or so I tell myself —and I refuse to kneel before the monarchy ever again.

We’re perched at the edge of a massive ravine, gazing upon a sprawling ritual site that the dark elves built ages ago—their grand temple to the Deceiver, or so the rumors say.

Towers and spires of obsidian stone rise like razors, each carved with twisting serpents.

Runes glimmer in labyrinthine patterns across the courtyard below, forming perfect circles meant to funnel magic.

Every corner hums with a low, malevolent pulse.

My horns bristle at the presence of so much arcane might, carefully shaped for the monarchy’s advantage.

Even from this distance, I sense the wards they’ve laid—clever layers of entrapment designed to keep me caged or to siphon my illusions away.

Valentina crouches beside me, slender form coiled in tension.

The wind teases strands of her dark hair from beneath her hood.

Her silver eyes glow with an unwavering resolve that contradicts her battered appearance: deep bruises shadow her cheekbones, her arms bear half-healed cuts from our last skirmishes, and her clothes are ripped in more places than I can count.

Yet she stands unbowed, gloved hands clutching her short sword.

The half-lost demon ancestry thrums in her blood, igniting a glimmer of power around her that even I can sense.

“These wards,” she murmurs, voice low to avoid echoing. “They look… stronger than anything we’ve faced.” She nods at the swirling glyphs etched into the temple’s basalt walls, each faintly shimmering with protective sigils. “Are you sure we can breach them?”

A faint snarl curls my lip. The vow in my chest surges, reacting to my rebellious thoughts, but I suppress the pain.

“I’ve spent centuries weaving illusions that rival the monarchy’s best wards.

I might not break them all, but I can disrupt enough to force an opening.

We only need an instant’s advantage.” My voice quivers with more confidence than I feel.

If I doubt myself, we’re doomed before we begin.

She nods, scanning the rows of black-armored elves patrolling the outer gates.

From our vantage, we see a half-dozen squads marching in a disciplined perimeter around the temple, armed with crossbows thrumming with arcane energy.

A scattering of lesser demons bound to the monarchy lurks in the courtyard, their collars glinting with control runes.

The monarchy evidently prepared for our arrival.

They must suspect we’d take the fight to them eventually—especially if they sense the Wildspont’s disturbance from our illusions or from Valentina’s awakened heritage.

Valentina inhales slowly, then meets my gaze.

“Let’s do it, then,” she says. “We ended up luring them to the Wildspont, and that forced their hand… But now they’ve centralized their forces here, at their main ritual site.

If we can upend their power in its heart, we can free you from the vow, weaken their hold on everything. ”

A low chuckle escapes me, laced with bitterness.

“Grand illusions or not, the monarchy knows I stand on the brink of treachery. They’ll do anything to keep me pinned.

” I turn my eyes to the temple’s highest tower, crowned with a swirling orb of violet light.

“That orb is the central focus for these wards. If I can sabotage it, the rest might crumble. Then you can approach the main dais.”

She swallows, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I won’t let them kill me, Malphas. And I won’t stand by while they reassert their chains around you, either.” I see a flicker of fear in her eyes, but it’s overshadowed by raw defiance. “This ends today—or we die trying.”

My heart clenches at that finality. For centuries, I’ve served the monarchy, illusions shaping entire battlefields, my claws drenched in the blood of rebellions.

Now I stand on the opposite side of their wards, ready to tear down their seat of power.

A savage satisfaction courses through me, tinged with dread for Valentina’s safety. I can’t lose her. Not now.

Exhaling, I let illusions swirl around my horns, shaping a faint distortion that cloaks us in a haze. “Let’s move,” I say, voice tight. “Try to stay within the field of my illusions. If we separate, they’ll pick us off.”

She nods firmly, stepping closer until her shoulder brushes my arm.

That simple contact sparks a flicker of warmth in my chest. Then we slip down the ravine’s slope, careful not to dislodge any loose rocks.

The illusions fold around us like a living mist, dimming the reflection of starlight on our gear.

Each footstep is a gamble—the vow might lash me at any second for this brazen attack, but I can’t let it stop me.

Soon, the outer perimeter looms. Monolithic pillars carved with serpentine motifs line the path to the temple courtyard.

Torchlight casts flickering shadows across the smooth basalt floor.

My illusions distort our outlines, but the wards glimmer overhead, searching for demonic energy.

Sweat beads on my forehead. If I fail to cloak my aura from these detection wards, we’ll be swarmed by archers.

Valentina grips the short sword, tension thrumming in every line of her body. She glances at me. I read the question in her gaze: Are we truly invisible to them? I set my jaw, pressing a clawed hand to the swirling illusions. “Trust me,” I mouth silently.

We creep behind the nearest pillar. Two dark elf guards in lacquered black plate patrol the corridor.

My illusions refract the torchlight away from us, rendering us a faint shimmer to their eyes.

They pass so close that I can smell the faint citrus tang of the potions they use to detect illusions, but it’s not enough. My illusions hold—for now.

The moment they move on, I motion for Valentina to follow me along the corridor’s edge.

My tail remains clamped tight around my leg to minimize noise.

We step over a cluster of spiked runes inlaid in the stone, presumably a trap for intruders.

My illusions swirl again, teetering on the edge of detection as the vow inside me flares.

The monarchy’s call scrapes along my nerves, demanding I yield.

I grit my teeth as I continue to ignore the biting pain. Not today.

At last, we slip into the temple courtyard—a broad expanse of polished black stone studded with glowing sigils.

The dais in the center is ringed by pillars that support a partial roof, leaving the heart of the dais exposed to the sky.

Torches set in iron sconces hiss with pale flame, illuminating banners depicting the monarchy’s crest: a serpent entwined with a crowned skull.

Soldiers stand at intervals, scanning for threats with watchful eyes.

In their midst roams a demon thrall, a Gilak brute wearing thick chains etched with suppressive runes.

My illusions flicker dangerously as I sense its presence—Gilaks are known for brutal force, and I can’t guess how the monarchy compelled such a beast.

Valentina tenses at the sight. She leans close to whisper, “If that Gilak spots us, it’ll sense your aura. They have primal instincts for demonic energy.”

My chest tightens with adrenaline. “Then we must disable it first. Otherwise, we’ll never breach the wards to the main dais.”

She nods, lips pressed in a firm line. Another swirl of illusions flickers around us.

We inch closer, hugging the courtyard’s perimeter, weaving behind rows of tall braziers shaped like coiled serpents.

Soldiers pass in short rotations. The Gilak demon lumbers near the dais, sniffing the air.

I sense the vow pressing again, a silent command from the monarchy to submit .

My horns throb in protest, illusions threatening to unravel.

But I push on. This is the final stand we promised ourselves.

We duck behind a brazier, watching the Gilak.

Its hunched form stands easily ten feet tall, arms like tree trunks.

Spikes protrude along its spine, carved with the monarchy’s runes.

Two guards stand near it, apparently controlling it through a staff that glows with a faint arc of chaos.

My tail lashes in annoyance—they’ve harnessed demon magic as a leash. The irony disgusts me.

Valentina gives me a sharp look. “The staff is the key. Break it, and maybe the thrall’s collar goes inert.”

I exhale, illusions swirling at my fingertips. “All right. I’ll distract the Gilak with a barrage of illusions. You go for the staff. Once it’s destroyed, we can dispatch the beast or slip by. Then we tear down the wards and head to the dais.”

She nods, steel in her eyes. “On your mark.”

I gather illusions, letting them coalesce in a ripple of black flame around my horns.

Pain arcs through my chest, the vow punishing me for defying the monarchy.

My knees threaten to buckle, but I refuse to yield.

My illusions burst outward, forming a ring of shimmering demon silhouettes around the Gilak, each an imposing figure with horns and wings.

The real me remains cloaked as I shape these illusions, the wave of arcane energy flickering across the courtyard.

If the monarchy’s wards detect me, we have seconds before the entire guard converges. But we have no choice.