Rael lay awake that night, his pulse still thrumming with the exhilaration of what he had done. Shattering one of the queen's anchors, feeling her hold weaken, even if only slightly—it was a taste of freedom that lingered like a promise. Yet each beat of his heart tightened the tension around him like an invisible cord. He knew she would feel the break, and she would hunt for answers. His part would have to be played to perfection.
The next morning, he rose early and moved through his routines as if nothing had changed. There was no summons from the queen, a reprieve both comforting and ominous. Voss's drills were merciless as usual, and Rael welcomed the distraction. The rhythm of sparring, the scrape of steel, they grounded him even as his thoughts turned to the queen's likely next moves.
But he couldn't ignore the tension rippling through the fortress. The thralls, usually focused on their tasks, seemed almost jittery, their gazes sharp and suspicious. Courtiers murmured in tight clusters, and Rael could feel more eyes on him than usual. It was as if her unease had taken root in the fortress itself, spreading like an infection through every hall and corridor.
Two days passed in taut silence, the queen's summons conspicuously absent. Rael saw no sign of the golden-eyed woman, and dread settled in the back of his mind. Could she already be under suspicion? But on the third evening, his cell door swung open to reveal a guard, his expression impassive but the message unmistakable.
"The queen requests your presence. Now."
Steeling himself, Rael followed the guard down the winding corridors. His heart hammered with dread and resolve as he entered her chamber, where she waited, her form veiled in a haze of pulsating magic. Power flowed off her in waves, her gaze sharp and cold.
"Rael," she said, almost conversationally, but her eyes glinted like shards of glass. "It seems an anomaly has occurred in my domain—a disturbance, a break in one of my anchors."
Rael kept his face blank, forcing himself into a practiced stoicism. "How may I serve you, my Queen?"
A thin smile crossed her lips, laced with venomous amusement. "Do you believe me so oblivious, Rael?" Her voice dripped with a silky malice. "Loyalty often masks deception. It begs the question, what drives yours?"
He held her gaze, fighting the instinct to recoil under the weight of her magic as it pressed into his mind, probing, searching for any vulnerability. "I serve because you saved me from obscurity, my Queen. My life belongs to you."
Her gaze lingered, skepticism glinting beneath her scrutiny. She leaned back, but her eyes never left his, studying him with a predatory intensity.
"I will find the source of this betrayal," she whispered, her voice laced with a dark promise. "Do not forget that."
With a dismissive wave, she sent him from the room, her gaze burning into his back as he bowed and retreated. The door closed behind him, and he released a shaky breath, his heart hammering. Her anger was simmering, a silent threat that cloaked the fortress like a storm cloud.
When he returned to his cell, the golden-eyed woman was waiting, her face taut with tension. "She knows," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "She can sense the break in her power. It won't be long before she suspects us."
Rael clenched his jaw. "Then we'll have to move faster. How much time do we have?"
"Not enough," she said, her tone grim. "The queen's magic has become restless. She's already begun to strengthen her other anchors, layering her spells in ways she hasn't done in centuries. She won't make this easy, Rael."
"We'll find another way," he replied, his resolve hardening.
The woman's eyes softened, her admiration evident. "I was hoping you'd say that." She reached into her cloak, producing a small vial filled with a dark, gleaming liquid that seemed to pulse with an eerie light. "A cloaking spell," she explained. "It won't last long, but it should shield you from her gaze long enough to reach another of her anchors. The next one is deeper, guarded even more fiercely."
He took the vial, its cold weight heavy in his hand. "Where?"
She leaned closer, her voice a low murmur. "The eastern wing, beyond the Hall of Mirrors. There lies an old chapel, sealed from all but her closest circle. She rarely goes there herself, but it guards one of her oldest sources of power."
Rael nodded, memorizing her words. "And you? What will you do?"
A faint, sad smile touched her lips. "I'm not the one she'll seek. Her focus is on you, Rael. Prepare yourself for her wrath."
Her warning hung in the air as she slipped back into the shadows. The gravity of his situation settled over him, but beneath it, Rael's determination only grew stronger. She would not hold him captive forever.
The next night, under the cover of darkness, he slipped from his cell, gripping the vial tightly. He moved with silent precision, his senses on high alert. Ahead lay the Hall of Mirrors, its expanse bathed in a dim, flickering light that seemed to pulse with its own strange life.
He took a steadying breath, uncorked the vial, and drank. A cold rush flooded his veins, dimming the world around him before sharpening it into crystal clarity. When he stepped forward, his reflection vanished from the mirrors.
Navigating the hall was like traversing the queen's mind—a realm of twisted images and distorted memories that clawed at his thoughts, attempting to dig up his secrets. But he pushed onward, ignoring the ghostly whispers and fractured reflections until he reached the chapel.
The ancient, domed room was etched with symbols he could barely understand. At its center lay a shard of obsidian, encircled by dark sigils that pulsed with the queen's magic. A faint thread of her power connected to it, seething within.
Rael stepped forward, steadying himself as he placed his hand on the shard. The cold bit into his skin, but he summoned his strength, pouring his power into the crystal. It began to crack, fissures spreading like spiderwebs as a dark hum reverberated through the air. Just as the shard shattered, an explosion of energy erupted, the force throwing him back as a furious roar echoed through the fortress. She had felt it.
Scrambling to his feet, Rael staggered from the chapel, his heart pounding with the knowledge of what he'd done. He had weakened her, but her wrath was coming like a storm. Racing through the fortress, he felt the rise of her dark magic, a wave of fury that sought him like blood in the water.
Yet, through the danger, a fierce satisfaction burned within him. The queen's chains were breaking—one by one. And he would not stop until he was free.
4o