Page 46

The Gilak roars, smashing its massive fists at the illusions.

The two guards brandish the staff, eyes wide.

“Over there!” one shouts, confusion riddling his tone as illusions swirl in a frenzy.

He slams the staff on the ground, sending a shockwave that tries to dispel the illusions.

I grunt, illusions shuddering but holding.

The vow stabs me again , fierce as a dagger twisting in my guts.

Valentina darts from behind the brazier, sprinting low and fast. Her bandaged ribs hamper her, but she moves with lethal grace.

The first guard swings the staff around, trying to track her.

She slashes out with her short sword, the blade singing through the air.

Sparks fly as it collides with the staff’s arcane field.

The guard staggers, cursing. The second guard lunges with a spear, forcing her to parry desperately.

The Gilak, now enraged by illusions, thrashes wildly, toppling a stone column.

Soldiers shout, converging on the chaos.

I clench my teeth, illusions swirling again to create more targets, more illusions of Valentina, each brandishing a sword.

Anything to confuse them. My chest feels like it’s on fire from the vow’s relentless assault. My horns ring with each wave of pain.

A soldier spots the real Valentina among the illusions.

He lunges, but she ducks his blow, rolling under the staff’s next crackle of power.

In a swift motion, she strikes the staff from below, smashing its crystal tip.

The weapon sparks, a cascade of broken runes flooding the air.

The Gilak howls, collar flickering. Freed from the direct thrall control, it whips around, smashing one guard with a single backhand blow.

The guard sails across the courtyard, armor crumpling.

A savage grin crosses my lips. Well done.

I drop the illusions of demon shapes, refocusing on a selective glamor around me.

My body flickers into partial invisibility as I slip closer to the dais.

Soldiers hurry to contain the Gilak, now rampaging without direction.

Swords clang, chaos flares. Perfect cover for me to approach the wards that ring the dais.

My illusions might not break them from a distance, but a direct infiltration? That I can manage.

Valentina sees me flicker away, meeting my eyes for half a heartbeat.

She grips her sword, swinging at another guard who tries to pin her.

I want to help her fight, but we agreed: I must sabotage the wards.

If we get pinned in open combat, we’ll lose.

Trust me, Valentina. My illusions cloak my form, and I rush forward.

Elves brandish spears along the dais perimeter, arcane crystals set around each pillar.

The runes etched in the basalt pulses with a mocking light.

My vow wrenches, demanding compliance. Obey, kneel, kill the mortal.

I stamp out the agony, illusions shimmering around my horns.

My tail slithers across the slick floor, my wings pinned to minimize noise.

If even one soldier glimpses me, I’ll have a half dozen spears in my back.

Lightning arcs from one pillar, searing the air.

I duck, illusions scattering. A soldier shouts, “Something’s tampering with the wards!

” Another brandishes a rod that crackles with raw power.

They can’t see me outright, but they sense the illusions warping the environment.

My breath comes in ragged gasps. I’m running out of time.

I lunge for the first crystal anchor set at the base of a carved pillar.

Arcane symbols swirl across its surface, binding me to the monarchy.

This device is keyed to the vow, amplifying the monarchy’s hold if I approach.

My vision blurs as a wave of magic slams me, the vow flaring with mind-shredding force.

I choke on a roar, illusions flickering dangerously close to collapse. My knees buckle. No. I won’t kneel.

Gritting my teeth, I let black flame coil around my claws.

“I. Am. No. One’s. Slave!” I snarl through clenched fangs, plunging my claws into the crystal.

A shockwave of scorching energy blasts me, but I focus everything on raw chaos.

The crystal’s surface cracks, spiderweb lines spiraling outward.

A final push sends a shriek of arcane feedback through the courtyard, the vow’s link snapping at this anchor.

The crystal shatters, shards raining down.

A soldier rushes me, illusions parted by the backlash.

I pivot, tail lashing out to knock him off balance.

My horns tingle from the vow’s residual sting, but I sense a fraction of relief—one anchor destroyed.

The monarchy’s immediate clamp on me weakens.

Another soldier tries to pin me with a spear.

I slap it aside, illusions swirling again to create duplicates of me.

She stabs one illusory figure, cursing when it vanishes.

I dash to the next pillar, illusions flickering.

Another anchor crystal gleams, set in a runic cradle.

Soldiers swarm around me, but my illusions conjure a ring of black flame illusions, making them flinch.

I leap over a spear thrust, land near the crystal.

Claws outstretched, I slam chaos flame into the device.

It crackles, resisting. I growl, fueling more power from the pit of my soul.

The vow retaliates, waves of torment stabbing my chest. My eyes water, but I won’t stop.

The crystal cracks under the onslaught, bursting in a flash of pale light. Another anchor undone.

Sparks swirl as arcane recoil blasts the dais.

The entire structure groans, wards faltering in patches.

Soldiers shout in alarm, scattering. Among them, I glimpse glimpses of Valentina, fighting like a cornered wolf.

She knocks a guard’s polearm aside, driving her sword through a gap in his armor.

She’s battered, panting, but her eyes burn with fury. She’s unstoppable.

But the monarchy has contingencies. A group of robed elves emerges from behind the dais, chanting.

Their voices resonate with arcane harmony, weaving a new net of illusions designed to stifle my power.

My illusions flicker out as they project a counter-ward in the courtyard.

The vow seizes the chance to spike my brain with fresh agony, nearly sending me to my knees.

Soldiers pounce, seeing me briefly unshielded.

Valentina sees my illusions collapse and sprints toward me, only to be cut off by more guards. She deflects a slash, wincing. “Malphas—” she calls, desperation in her tone.

My throat constricts. I can’t let them hamper me now.

Gripping my horns for focus, I gather the last surge of illusions, battling the vow’s punishing sting.

Dark flame radiates from my horns, forming a shield around me as I lunge forward.

Soldiers reel away from the scalding illusions.

I slam a clawed hand against the third anchor crystal near the dais’s central runes.

This one is bigger, carved with more complex sigils.

The robed elves intensify their chanting, arcs of pale lightning sizzling toward me.

I snarl, illusions fracturing under that barrage.

My wings flare, membranes ragged, as I conjure a final wave of chaos flame.

The crystal withstands the onslaught for a moment.

My vision blackens at the edges, vow agony coursing through my heart.

I might die here, but I’ll break the monarchy first. I roar, pouring everything into the illusions and flame.

The crystal dims—then cracks violently. Arcane shockwaves blow me back, flinging me across the dais.

Soldiers collapse in a ring around me, the ritual site’s wards fizzing in wild arcs.

I land hard, every nerve screaming. My illusions gutter out, pain pounding behind my eyes. But the vow’s hold is loosened. I sense a faint relief. Even if they call me now, they can’t forcibly drag me to my knees. The dais is partially freed from their direct tether.

Valentina rushes in, sword dripping with blood. She drops to a knee beside me, pressing a hand to my chest. “You’re alive?”

I cough, a strangled laugh escaping. “Barely.” My side burns from reopened wounds, and my horns ache from illusions spent, but I’m conscious.

A robed elf—likely the lead sorcerer—staggers to his feet across the dais, incensed. “Seize them!” he shrieks. “They can’t break all the wards with brute force!” His coterie scrambles to salvage the shattered anchors.

Valentina rises, eyes blazing. “Now’s the time. We push to the main dais. That’s where they harness the vow’s final hold on you, right?”

I nod, forcing myself upright despite the agony.

“Yes. One more anchor cluster near the dais’s center.

If we destroy it, the monarchy’s direct clamp on me is severed.

Then… we do the rest with your ritual.” My chest tightens, remembering the prophecy demands her life.

But I cling to the possibility that we can warp it.

We hobble across the dais, illusions flickering in weak pulses around my claws.

Soldiers try to form a blockade, but the Gilak demon, now rampaging uncontrollably, crashes into them from behind, smashing into a line of halberds.

They screech, losing formation. A final push allows us to break through their ranks, stepping into the temple’s inner sanctum—a massive antechamber with swirling patterns etched into the polished floor.