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MALPHAS

I stand at the threshold of the ancient colonnade, panting with the lingering pain of the vow’s remnants scorching my veins.

The swirling illusions around my horns flicker erratically, fed by the adrenaline and defiance that have carried us this far.

Each breath tastes of dust and ozone. Overhead, dark storm clouds roll across the sky, alive with flickers of lightning, as if the very atmosphere quakes in anticipation of what is about to happen.

The last of the monarchy’s forces gather on the cracked courtyard beyond.

Shattered pillars and broken spires ring the space, remnants of an opulent stronghold undone by our relentless advance.

Torches sputter in the whipping wind, revealing dark elf soldiers kneeling in battered lines, blood and sweat streaking their armor.

Beyond them, a handful of robed figures try to salvage the monarchy’s ritual site, muttering incantations to reassert control.

My illusions swirl in an ominous haze, but I’m dangerously close to my limit—if they push me further, I’m not certain I can maintain the power or remain standing.

Valentina steps beside me, sword clutched in her trembling fingers, eyes burning silver in the half-light.

Her coat is tattered, exposing bandaged ribs and bruised flesh.

Across her arms, the faint traces of black runes linger—the echo of the Abyss power she unleashed in the last confrontation.

I see the way her jaw tightens and her breath catches, telling me she’s as near the edge as I am.

Yet her stance radiates unwavering resolve.

She meets my gaze, and I find a question there: Are we truly ready for the final blow?

I grit my teeth, illusions sputtering at my horns. “We finish this,” I say through labored breaths. “No more half-measures.”

Valentina nods, scanning the swirling mass of dark elf lords and straggling sorcerers who remain.

Bodies litter the far corners of the courtyard—friends and foes alike.

The monarchy’s banners droop from half-collapsed arches, frayed by fire and chaos.

Everything smells of ashes and spilled blood.

Yet a single dais stands intact at the center, runes etched deep into its obsidian surface.

That dais, ringed by damaged wards, might be the monarchy’s last stand for re-binding me.

I still feel threads of the vow in my chest, gnawing at my strength.

If we don’t sever them completely, they’ll recover, and my freedom will be short-lived.

Lightning forks across the storm-dark sky, illuminating the dais.

A tall, imposing elf stands at its edge—one of the monarchy’s highest lords, perhaps, garbed in resplendent armor.

His features are sharp, eyes gleaming with scorn.

Beside him, three more robed elves chant in frantic unison, weaving a barrier over the dais.

Sigils swirl in the air, forming a dome of violet energy that flickers at the edges with raw power.

If we let them complete that ward, they’ll clamp the vow back around me like a collar.

My illusions roil in protest at the very thought.

Valentina sucks in a breath, stepping forward with unsteady courage. “That’s our target,” she murmurs. “The dais. We tear it apart, or they’ll reenslave you.”

I nod, gripping the battered hilt of my conjured blade—an extension of illusions and chaos flame that merges into a tangible weapon.

My side throbs from reopened wounds, each heartbeat a reminder that I am not invincible.

“We charge together,” I say. “If they rally, we might not get a second chance.”

Her lips tilt in a grim smile, the flicker of black runes pulsing faintly on her collarbone. “Then we leave them no time to rally.” She locks eyes with me, silver meeting molten crimson. “No regrets, Malphas.”

A rush of emotion churns in me—admiration, guilt, a savage protectiveness. I want to spare her the final risk of the unbinding ritual. Yet I know she won’t stand aside. “No regrets,” I echo, illusions coiling in readiness.

We surge forward into the courtyard, boots pounding cracked stone.

Dark elf soldiers scramble to intercept, raising swords and spears.

My illusions flare around me, conjuring ephemeral copies that lash at the nearest enemies.

Valentina ducks a sweeping halberd, retaliating with a swift slash.

Sparks shower, and the soldier staggers back, leaving her path open.

She glances at me, rallying a fierce grin, then darts to engage the next threat.

I sweep my illusions wider, driving half a dozen soldiers back with a burst of black flame.

My horns ache, the vow pushing against me like claws on my mind, but I force the illusions to intensify, weaving a barrier that deflects incoming bolts of magic.

The robed elves by the dais see us, chanting faster.

Their barrier dome pulses, arcs of purple lightning racing across its surface.

They want to re-shackle me, reassert monarchy dominance. Over my lifeless body.

Valentina slashes through another guard, breathing ragged.

She’s covered in sweat, her hair clinging to her brow.

Blood smears her bandaged ribs. Yet she fights on, a unstoppable force, each strike guided by defiance.

The black runes flicker across her arms again, fusing with her sword in crackles of dark energy that devour the monarchy’s wards.

I sense the cost on her face—a pale tension, pain in her eyes.

The dais stands mere paces away now, guarded by only a handful of soldiers who remain upright. The tall elf lord in grand armor raises his staff, voice booming. “This ends here, traitor!” He aims the staff at me, arcs of raw magic hissing in the swirling air. “You will bow.”

I bare my fangs, illusions spinning. “Not anymore.” My tail snaps in agitation, and I unleash a wave of black flame from my horns.

The elf lord erects a shimmering shield, blocking the brunt, but the force staggers him.

He snarls, forcing his staff forward, sending a lance of arcane power my way.

I fling illusions in a complex swirl, dispersing the lance, though it scrapes my flank in a scorch of pain.

Valentina lunges to join me, sword raised high.

Another bolt from the robed elves shrieks across the dais, aiming to pin her.

She channels the black runes once more, forging a barrier that splits the bolt in two.

The impact rattles her, nearly knocking her off her feet.

She coughs, regaining balance. I leap to her side, illusions swirling in a protective net, batting away stray blasts.

My vow rages in my soul, half-lashing me with pain, but I push it back. We’re so close.

The robed elves chant in feverish unity, the barrier dome overhead brightening. The dais glows beneath it, runic lines converging. If they finalize that chant, I risk being shackled. My illusions tremble. “Valentina,” I hiss. “We must break that dome now.”

She nods, eyes narrowed with resolve. She crosses the last few paces, plunging her sword into the ground near the dais, focusing the black runes through the blade.

A shockwave of dark energy ripples out, colliding with the dome.

Cracks race across the barrier’s surface, making the robed elves stumble in alarm.

They strain to hold it together, chanting louder.

At that moment, the tall elf lord lunges in a final, desperate strike.

His staff crackles, forging a whirling lance of electricity that he aims at Valentina’s exposed back.

I snarl, illusions bursting forward, but I’m an instant too late.

The lance fires. Valentina sees it too late, eyes widening. She tries to pivot, raising her sword.

In a flash of raw instinct, I hurl myself between them, illusions forming a half-shield around my horns.

The lance slams into my chest, searing agony ripping through me.

I roar, the vow flaring with sadistic glee at my pain.

Sparks dance across my body, illusions shattering.

The impact throws me back, colliding with a broken column.

My lungs burn as I slump, black spots dancing in my vision. I can’t fall here.

Valentina cries my name, voice cracking.

She spins on the elf lord, fury blazing in her silver eyes.

The black runes intensify, swirling from her arms up her neck and across her cheeks.

It’s more than before. She looks terrifying, almost otherworldly—a mortal shell infused with the raw might of the Abyss.

Her sword hums with lethal darkness. The elf lord tries to form a second bolt, but she’s already upon him.

Her blade arcs in a savage slash, cutting through his staff.

He staggers, staff sparking, wide-eyed. She exhales, tears glistening, and rips the sword across his torso.

The lord slumps, blood spattering the dais.

The last of the robed elves scream, scrambling to hold the dome.

But it’s too late. Valentina’s power glows, forcing cracks across the barrier.

I choke on my breath, illusions faltering as I push off the rubble.

My chest smolders from the lightning strike, but I’m alive.

Gritting my fangs, I stagger back to the dais.

The vow’s presence is weaker, overshadowed by the swirl of new energies.

We must end this now, or risk them regrouping again.

Valentina meets my gaze, chest heaving, hair a wild tangle around her face. The black runes swirl across her entire form now—a living pattern of Abyss and mortal flesh. Her eyes shimmer with swirling darkness. She nods once, silently telling me it’s time.