Rael lay awake that night, his pulse still thrumming with the exhilaration of what he had done. The shattered crystal, the taste of freedom so close he could almost grasp it—it lingered in his mind, a promise of what might come. But with each beat of his heart, he could feel the tension tighten around him like a cord. The queen would feel the break in her power, a chink in her defenses, and she would hunt for answers. He would have to play his part perfectly.
The next morning, he rose early and went through his routines, concealing any hint of his clandestine venture. The queen did not summon him immediately, which struck him as both a blessing and a warning. For once, Voss's relentless drills were a welcome distraction, the rhythm of sparring and the scrape of steel grounding him even as his thoughts churned.
But he couldn't deny the changes rippling through the fortress. The thralls were even more vigilant, their eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Several of the queen's courtiers were visibly tense, murmuring in clusters and casting suspicious glances at Rael and one another. His movements, once unnoticed, now attracted scrutiny from demons and guards alike. The queen's unease was spreading, infecting even her most loyal followers.
Two days passed in this tense silence, the queen's summons conspicuously absent. The golden-eyed woman was nowhere to be seen, and Rael was beginning to wonder if the queen had already suspected her involvement. But on the third evening, just after sundown, a guard entered his cell, cold and impassive.
"The queen requests your presence. Now."
Rael felt a chill slither down his spine, but he maintained his composure. With a steady step, he followed the guard down the winding corridors, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination. When he entered the queen's chamber, she was waiting, her figure framed by a haze of magical energy that pulsed and thrummed with restrained power.
"Rael," she said, her voice low, almost conversational. But her eyes were sharp, her gaze raking over him like a blade. "It seems an anomaly has occurred within my realm—a disturbance, a break in one of my anchors."
Rael kept his expression neutral, willing his face into the practiced stoicism that had served him so well. "How may I serve you, my Queen?"
Her lips curved into a cold smile. "Do you believe me so oblivious, Rael?" she asked, a glimmer of amusement beneath her venomous words. "Loyalty is a precious thing, and its roots often lie hidden. Those who would betray me often do so with such convincing displays of loyalty. I wonder," she continued, her gaze boring into him, "what drives yours?"
He met her eyes, feeling the sharp bite of her magic as it pressed into his mind, probing, searching for any crack in his defenses. He braced himself, holding her gaze steady, his thoughts guarded with every ounce of strength he possessed.
"I serve because I must, my Queen. You saved me from obscurity and gave me purpose. My life, my strength, they belong to you."
Her eyes narrowed, a faint flicker of suspicion still smoldering there. She leaned back, studying him with a scrutiny that made his skin prickle.
"Perhaps. And yet, I feel the weight of betrayal lurking within these walls," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I will find its source, Rael. Remember that."
She dismissed him, her gaze lingering as he backed out of the room, bowing. As the door closed behind him, he released the breath he'd been holding, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.
The fortress was colder than usual as he made his way back to his cell, shadows gathering in the corners, and the walls seeming to press in around him. He could feel her magic snaking through the air, a dark pulse of energy radiating outward as though the queen were casting a net across her domain, seeking any trace of weakness.
When he returned to his cell, he was not alone for long. A faint rustle caught his attention, and the golden-eyed woman slipped into the room, her expression grave.
"She knows," she said, her voice barely more than a breath. "She can sense the break in her power, and it won't be long before she narrows her suspicions to us."
Rael's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Then we'll need to move faster. How much time do we have?"
"Not enough," she replied, her gaze piercing. "The queen's magic has grown restless. She's already begun fortifying her other anchors, layering her spells in ways she has not done in centuries. She won't make this easy, Rael."
"Then we'll find another way," he said, his resolve hardening.
Her eyes softened with a hint of admiration. "I had hoped you would say that." She reached into the folds of her cloak, producing a small, dark vial filled with a liquid that gleamed with an unsettling luminescence. "This is a spell of cloaking. It won't last long, but it should shield you from her watchful eye long enough to move deeper into her fortress. There is another shrine, further hidden, but also more fiercely guarded."
He took the vial, feeling its icy weight in his hand. "Tell me where."
She leaned close, her voice a low whisper. "In the eastern wing, beyond the Hall of Mirrors. There is an old chapel, sealed to all but those she trusts most. She rarely ventures there herself, but it guards her most ancient power."
Rael nodded, memorizing her words. "And you? Will you be safe?"
A sad smile touched her lips. "I'm not the one she seeks. Her focus is on you now, Rael. You must be ready for her wrath, for she will come with everything she has."
The gravity of her words settled over him, a cold reminder of what he had set in motion. But as he watched her fade back into the shadows, Rael felt his determination harden into something sharper, something impenetrable.
The queen's fortress had held him captive, bound him in service, but with each step, he was unraveling her power, tearing down the carefully woven chains she'd spent centuries crafting. He was no longer a pawn in her game. He would not stop until he was free—and until her fortress lay in ruins.
The next night, under the cover of darkness, he slipped from his cell, the vial of cloaking spell clutched tightly in his hand. He moved through the fortress with silent precision, his senses on high alert as he wound his way through the labyrinthine corridors. The Hall of Mirrors loomed ahead, its vast expanse stretching into shadow, the polished surfaces gleaming with an eerie light that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
He took a deep breath, uncorking the vial and downing its contents in one gulp. A cold rush flooded his veins, and for a moment, the world around him dimmed, the edges of his vision blurring before sharpening again. When he stepped forward, his reflection did not follow.
Passing through the hall was like walking through the heart of the queen's mind—a world of fractured images and ghostly whispers that clawed at his thoughts, trying to root out his intentions. But he kept his focus ironclad, ignoring the snatches of memories and twisted visions that flickered in the mirrors.
Finally, he reached the chapel, an ancient, domed room etched with symbols he could barely decipher. At the center lay another anchor—a shard of obsidian, set in a ring of stone and woven with dark sigils. It pulsed faintly, a thread of the queen's power seething within.
Rael steeled himself, drawing on his strength as he reached for the shard. The cold radiated from it, a biting chill that seeped into his skin, but he held firm, pouring his power into the stone.
The shard began to crack, fissures spreading across its surface, and a low, dangerous hum filled the air. Just as the crystal shattered, an explosion of energy threw him back, the force rattling the chapel as a fierce roar tore through the silence. The queen had felt it, and this time, her fury would not be subtle.
Rael scrambled to his feet, his mind spinning with the force of what he'd done. He had weakened her again, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she struck back. As he sprinted through the fortress, he could feel her magic rising like a storm, her rage a dark wave crashing over him.
But despite the peril, despite the furious power that hunted him, a fierce satisfaction burned in his chest.
The queen's chains were breaking—one by one. And he would be free.