The first betrayal came at dawn.
I woke to shouting.
Steel clashing against steel.
Magic shattering the stillness like a thousand breaking mirrors.
Virelya was already gone from my side.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I bolted upright.
For one agonizing moment, I thought the Crown had found us—that soldiers had stormed the rogue camp.
But then I heard it.
"Seize them! Don't let the cursed ones escape!"
Not soldiers.
Rogues.
I barely had time to grab my sword before two figures in ash-gray cloaks rounded the corner of the crumbling hall.
No warning.
No mercy.
They lunged for me, blades gleaming with null-spells designed to sever magic—designed to cut through the bond between me and Virelya.
I moved on instinct.
Duck. Parry. Strike.
One went down with a grunt, clutching his bleeding arm.
The other hesitated—and I drove my shoulder into his gut, slamming him back into the cracked stone wall.
He crumpled with a wheeze.
I didn't wait for them to recover.
I ran.
The camp was chaos.
Ghostfire lanterns flickered violently, sending bursts of blue and purple flame into the mist.
Bodies clashed in the half-light—rogues fighting rogues, spells whirling like firestorms, blood staining the ancient stones.
Selene stood in the center, commanding her forces with the cold detachment of a queen.
She saw me.
Smiled.
And pointed.
"Bring him alive!" she shouted. "The bond needs both of them!"
I didn't stop to listen.
Didn't stop to think.
I only thought of her.
Where's Virelya?
I found her on the eastern side of the ruins, cornered by three rogue mages weaving a spell meant to pin her magic down.
She fought like the storm she was—hands wreathed in silver flame, hair whipping around her like a halo of light.
For every spell they threw at her, she broke two more.
But she was tiring.
I could feel it.
The bond pulsed in my chest—her fear, her rage, her stubborn refusal to fall.
I roared and threw myself into the fight.
The first mage didn't even see me coming.
The second managed to cast a binding spell—but Virelya shattered it with a flick of her fingers.
Together, we fought.
Back to back.
Bound by blood and magic and the kind of love that doesn't yield to death.
When the last mage fell, gasping and broken, we didn't waste time.
We ran.
Selene's forces surged after us.
Through the broken streets.
Over collapsed walls.
Under crumbling archways etched with forgotten prayers.
The whole camp had turned against us.
All because we wouldn't play their game.
All because we refused to be weapons.
We made it to the edge of the ruins before they caught us again.
This time, Selene herself stepped forward.
Alone.
Unarmed.
But we knew better than to trust appearances now.
Her silver braid glinted in the pale dawn light, her tattooed throat marked with spells older than the kingdom itself.
"You don't have to die," she called out, voice calm. Reasonable. Seductive.
"You don't have to run."
She held out her hand like a savior offering peace.
"You can still be gods. You can still rule."
Virelya's fingers tightened around mine.
"She's lying," she muttered.
I squeezed her hand in answer.
Of course she was lying.
Selene didn't want to save us.
She wanted to own us.
Our bond.
Our power.
Our destruction.
I stepped forward, sword raised.
"You think you can control something even the gods fear?" I said.
Selene's smile sharpened.
"I don't fear the gods," she said. "I only fear wasted potential."
Her eyes flickered to Virelya.
"You're wasting it, you know," she said softly. "Wasting her. Wasting yourself. Running like frightened children when you could be kings and queens of the ashes."
"Is that your dream?" Virelya asked, voice cold.
"Survival," Selene corrected. "And if a little blood must be spilled to buy it, so be it."
My jaw tightened.
Virelya's magic flared beside me, hot and furious.
"You don't want survival," she said. "You want control."
"And you," Selene said, voice almost tender, "want freedom. But there is no freedom in love cursed by fate."
She tilted her head.
"So choose, Caelum Vire. Love her—and burn. Or surrender her—and live."
For one split second, the world held its breath.
The bond pulsed inside me—wild, desperate.
Virelya turned to look at me.
No pleading.
No begging.
Just a quiet acceptance.
She would let me choose.
Even if it killed her.
Even if it killed us.
And gods help me—
I chose.
"I'll burn," I said.
And I charged.
The fight wasn't fair.
Selene was faster, sharper, more ruthless than the rogues she commanded.
She wielded ancient magic with casual brutality, weaving sigils in the air that tore the ground at my feet, sent fire licking up my legs, blinded me with bursts of sickening light.
But I didn't stop.
Every step hurt.
Every blow rattled my bones.
Still, I fought.
Because this wasn't just about survival anymore.
This was about love.
About loyalty.
About not letting them turn our bond into a weapon.
Virelya fought too.
Her magic danced in silver arcs, beautiful and deadly, shattering Selene's spells, driving her back inch by inch.
Together, we were unstoppable.
Together, we were a storm.
But even storms break.
Selene lashed out with a final spell—a blast of energy so raw and violent it cracked the stones beneath us and sent me sprawling.
I hit the ground hard.
Dazed.
Broken.
My sword skittered away into the mist.
Selene stood over me, breathing hard, blood dripping from a wound at her temple.
"Should've surrendered," she panted.
Behind her, Virelya screamed.
A wordless, gut-wrenching sound that tore through the ruined city like a battle cry.
Magic exploded from her in a violent surge of power.
Selene spun too late.
The blast caught her squarely in the chest.
She flew backward—crashed into a broken column—and didn't move again.
Silence fell.
Broken only by the sound of my own ragged breathing.
And Virelya's soft, shuddering sobs.
She dropped to her knees beside me, hands frantically moving over my wounds, trying to heal what little she could.
"I'm fine," I rasped.
"You're not," she said fiercely.
But she leaned into me anyway.
Clung to me like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood.
I wrapped my arms around her.
Held her like an anchor.
Held her like a promise.
We were alive.
But it cost us everything.
The rogues were dead or fled.
The camp was nothing but ruins and echoes now.
And the world we'd known—fractured.
Beyond repair.
But I didn't care.
As long as she was alive.
As long as we were together.
I would burn every empire to ash before I let her go.