Page 49

The rival demon lord sees the shift in me.

Its eyes widen. It lunges again, collar crackling.

I thrust my sword, but now the black runes across my arms feed my strike.

The blade crackles with abyssal energy, slicing through the demon’s scale hide more easily.

It shrieks, staggering. The monarchy lords stiffen in alarm, realizing something unstoppable stirs within me.

Arcane lines swirl around my feet, where the mosaic tries to trap me too. But the runes on my skin glow with an alien brilliance, negating the mosaic’s hold. My entire body trembles with power. I must focus. I can’t let it claim me.

I channel that torrent, aiming it at the monarchy lords who cluster near Malphas.

“Let him go!” I hiss, voice resonant with an echo that doesn’t sound like me.

My arm snaps out, a wave of inky black force ripping across the floor.

The mosaic cracks, sending shards of basalt flying.

Two lords are hurled back, slamming into pillars with bone-crunching force.

The staff-wielding elf curses, frantically weaving a protective ward.

Malphas, pinned by the chain, growls in agony.

But the wards flicker under my assault. He fights to stand, illusions roiling around his horns.

The staff-wielding elf tries to restore the chain, chanting faster, but I stride forward, black runes swirling across my skin in a dizzying dance. My sword glints with abyssal flame.

The staff-wielding elf reels, raising his arms to conjure a protective barrier.

I channel a second wave of that Abyss power.

It tears through his ward, knocking him flat.

A final slash of my blade disarms him—literally.

He howls, blood spraying. Another lord scrambles away, wide-eyed, while the demon lord tries again to intercept me.

Despite its collar, it roars in terrified fury, perhaps forced by commands it cannot disobey.

The runes on my body burn, threatening to devour my lifeforce.

My chest feels hollow, like something is carving out my essence.

I taste iron, my vision darkening at the edges.

But I cling to my vow—I will not die for them.

I direct the torrent outward. If the prophecy demands blood, let it feed on the monarchy’s wards.

With a savage cry, I pivot to face the demon lord.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, seeing the tortured gleam in its eyes.

Then I slash with my sword, augmented by the black runes flaring across my skin.

The collar cracks, blasting arcane sparks.

Freed from direct control, the demon lord shudders, confusion sweeping its features.

It staggers backward, reeling from centuries of forced servitude.

I pray it doesn’t turn on me, but if it does, I’ll endure.

The monarchy lords who remain upright gather near Malphas, redoubling their chain binding. He’s half collapsed, illusions flickering under the vow’s partial resurgence. “Kill the mortal!” one lord shrieks. “She’s channeling something unnatural—shatter her essence!”

I can’t let them recast the vow. My eyes lock on Malphas, his horns trembling from the chain’s grip. “Hold on!” I shout, pushing through the swirling black haze. Wards flicker all around us, but my power—the Abyss—eats away at their structure.

The nearest lord tries to shape a controlling hex, but the runes on my arms intensify.

I thrust my palm out, unleashing a black torrent that consumes his hex midair, leaving him gasping.

My entire body shakes, pain blossoming behind my skull.

Too much. The prophecy’s dire cost hovers in my mind.

If I push harder, I might burn out my soul. But I must.

I ignore the pounding in my veins and leap onto the dais. Malphas is pinned to a crumbling dais pillar, arcane chains wrapping his legs and waist. He stares at me through half-lidded eyes, illusions sputtering around him. “Valentina,” he gasps, voice shredded. “Don’t—hurt yourself?—”

I press a shaking hand to his chest. “No. We do this together. We end them.” My sword glows with the same black flames swirling over my arms. I hack at the chain, forcing the Abyss’s energy into the links.

The monarchy’s wards shriek in protest. Each link cracks, releasing bursts of arcane sparks.

The vow stabs me with a final wave of agony, as if furious that I’m undermining it.

I nearly collapse from the onslaught, but Malphas grips my shoulder, steadying me. A silent encouragement.

The chain shatters under the combined might of illusions and Abyss power, unleashing a shockwave that hurls us backward.

We tumble across the dais, landing in a heap.

Malphas coughs, illusions swirling again, free from the chain’s final hold.

The monarchy’s vantage is undone—the vow can’t be recast while these wards crumble.

Dark elf lords shriek in panic. Some scramble to regroup, chanting with frantic speed to salvage the meltdown.

The entire hall trembles, columns cracking under the arcane blowback.

Dust and chunks of obsidian rain from the ceiling.

Torch flames gutter, plunging sections of the chamber into half-darkness.

I rise on unsteady legs, breath ragged. The black runes still slither across my skin, but they’re dimmer now, like a dying ember. My body screams from the strain, each nerve raw. “Malphas,” I choke out, reaching for him. “We… we have to finish this.”

He staggers upright, horns scraping a low-hanging beam. His wings spread, illusions flaring around him like a storm. “Agreed. The monarchy isn’t done. We must neutralize them or they’ll keep hunting us.”

The remaining lords gather near the altar at the far end, arcs of twisted energy swirling as they form a defensive phalanx.

Three stand, battered but determined, chanting in perfect unison.

The swirl of their combined magic conjures a serpent of pure arcane force.

It lunges across the dais, fangs wide, aiming at Malphas.

He tries to disperse it with illusions, but they collide in a brilliant flash, sending him stumbling.

I grit my teeth, stepping forward. My arm twitches from the Abyss’s aftermath, black runes flickering like a dying candle.

I have one final push. Another arc of power roils in my core, threatening to sear me from the inside.

But I refuse to balk. The monarchy can’t recast the vow if they’re incapacitated.

Growling, I raise my sword. The serpent of arcane force darts for me now, the lords’ chanting rising to a crescendo.

I pour the last of the black runes into my blade, swinging with everything I have.

The serpent collides with the blade in a thunderous crash.

My knees buckle, the floor cracking beneath me.

But I hold, letting the Abyss devour the serpent’s essence.

The swirl of runic power dissolves in a burst of sparks.

I collapse to one knee, gasping, vision swimming. That might be all I have left.

Malphas seizes the opening. He lunges at the lords, illusions forging half a dozen clones that converge in a single pincer.

The lords try to respond, but their wards are in disarray from the vow meltdown.

Arcs of illusions shred their defenses. Malphas roars, unleashing black flame from his horns in a final wave.

The lords are overwhelmed, flung backward in a hail of obsidian shards.

Two lie motionless, the third crawls away, choking.

An eerie silence drapes the hall, broken only by chunks of ceiling crashing to the floor.

The swirling wards overhead flicker like snuffed candles.

The vow’s presence no longer pulses at the dais—they can’t recast it.

My chest heaves, limbs trembling with the last vestiges of the Abyss power receding.

I feel painfully mortal, battered and drained. Yet a wave of triumph surges in me.

Malphas stands among the wreckage, illusions sparking around his horns. He’s hunched, panting, arms streaked with blood. Smoke wafts from the battered wings draped behind him. “We did it,” he whispers, almost disbelieving.

I swallow, tears stinging my eyes. “No vow remains… you’re free.” The words feel foreign on my tongue. My heart clenches with joy and a strange hollowness—I truly found a way to break those chains without surrendering my life. At least for this moment.

He crosses the broken floor in two strides, ignoring the swirling dust. I can see raw wonder in his molten gaze. “Valentina…” His voice catches.

I manage a shaky grin, dropping my sword with a clang. “You said you’d rather fight than kneel, right? We made it happen.”

He pulls me into a fierce embrace, ignoring the battered spines of his horns and the scorching illusions that still crackle around him.

I sag against his chest, relief spilling through me.

My legs threaten to give out, but his arms hold me upright.

The monarchy’s grand ritual site stands in ruins, wards undone, lords broken or dead. We did the impossible.

Footsteps from behind break the moment. One final figure—the demon lord we freed from its collar—emerges from the shadows, stumbling in battered confusion. It stares at us through luminous eyes, shaking off the monarchy’s last vestiges of control. My chest tightens. Will it attack?

Malphas releases me, turning to face the demon lord warily.

But the creature merely inclines its horned head, eyes flicking to the destroyed wards.

A faint hiss escapes it, a sign of acknowledgment.

Then it limps away, stepping over rubble, disappearing into the gloom.

Freed from the monarchy’s thrall, it chooses not to fight us.

My shoulders slump with relief. One less foe.

We stand amid the wreckage, hearts pounding. Stage two of our finale is complete: a direct confrontation with dark elf lords, a rival demon lord cornering us, and the partial unleashing of my Abyssborn heritage. The wards flicker overhead, crumbling further. The monarchy’s hold is shattered here.

Exhaustion weighs on me, my body screaming for rest. Yet Malphas and I remain upright, illusions fading.

He glances at the swirling runes on my arms—the black lines receding like receding tide, leaving smears of darkness behind.

His voice is hushed. “You wielded an abyss of power. Are you… all right?”

I let out a strained laugh, pressing a hand to my pounding chest. “I’m alive. Aching, but alive.”

He exhales slowly, slipping an arm around my waist to steady me. “We need to leave before reinforcements arrive. The monarchy has other strongholds, other forces. They might regroup. We can’t linger.”

I nod, though my heart aches at the thought of more fighting. “Then we limp out of here with our heads held high, I guess.” My gaze drifts to the collapsed pillars, the battered soldiers groaning in corners. “We’ve undone their central vow-casting site… that’s huge.”

He studies me, an intensity in his eyes that sets my pulse racing. “You saved me from an eternal cage,” he murmurs. “I—” He hesitates, raw emotion warring on his face. “Thank you.”

A small, weary smile tugs at my lips. “It was never just about saving you. I refused to let them own me either. They took everything from us. Tonight, we reclaimed a part of ourselves.”

He nods, stepping gingerly over rubble. The vow’s presence lingers in him as a half-formed bond, but the monarchy can’t forcibly enthrall him again without their anchors or this grand ritual. He’s free in a way he hasn’t been for centuries. My chest warms at the realization. We did that.

Suddenly, an unexpected echo of footsteps resonates from the corridor.

The battered demon lord must not be alone.

Malphas and I tense, illusions flickering around his horns.

A moment later, only the shuffle of a half-dead soldier collapses in the archway, moaning softly.

No immediate threat. We might truly be at the end of this confrontation.

I exhale a shaky breath, turning to Malphas. “We should go. We have to confirm the vow is completely undone. Maybe that means returning to the Wildspont site or forging a new plan, but?—”

He silences me with a brief press of his clawed hand to my cheek. The contact is rough yet tender, and I see exhaustion etched in his molten eyes. “Yes. We’ll figure out the final step. For now, we’re free from these chains. That is enough.”

My throat constricts. “Enough for now, but… not forever.”

He nods, illusions flickering around him in a subdued dance. “We’ll stand together for the rest.”

We gather what scraps of energy remain, stumbling out of the battered ritual hall.

Shards of obsidian crunch underfoot, the monarchy’s once-magnificent architecture reduced to smoldering ruins.

On the threshold, I glimpse the night sky beyond—stars shining faintly, as though uncertain.

We’ve won this battle, but the war might still rage.

The monarchy isn’t destroyed, only fractured.

As we leave behind the charred corpses of lords and a shattered vow-casting dais, a fierce sense of triumph pulses in me. My entire body trembles from the aftermath of channeled Abyss power, but I walk unbroken. Malphas, though battered, holds his horns high, illusions swirling in quiet defiance.

We won, in a world that insisted we kneel.

The vow is fractured, the monarchy’s wards flicker, and we face tomorrow with free will—the greatest victory we could have hoped for.

My soul still aches from the prophecy’s threat, but I hold onto hope: I channeled the Abyss without sacrificing my life.

That means we can continue rewriting fate.

With the monarchy’s grand ritual site in ruins, we vanish into the night, leaving their stone serpents and broken wards behind.

The next chapter of our rebellion awaits—the final stage of our fight to ensure we both remain free.

If the monarchy tries to rebuild their vow, they’ll find Malphas no longer shackled to obey.

And if destiny demands a final sacrifice, I’ll be there to defy it again, black runes blazing across my skin.

The hush of darkness folds around us, a hush filled with battered hearts and new possibilities.

Step by step, Malphas and I walk away from the monarchy’s seat of power, certain we’ve shifted the balance of this entire realm.

A swirl of illusions flickers around him, tinted with ephemeral starlight, marking the path we carve on our own terms.