Page 27 of His Darkest Devotion

We share a single urgent look. Somehow, in that glance, understanding passes between us. We might be enemies, but the monstrous roars approach from multiple sides. The only chance of survival is to work together, at least for now.

Vaelin breathes hard. “We have to fortify this spot. Fewer entrances here.” He motions to the half-collapsed chamber we stand in. “They’ll come through the main hall.”

I bite my lip, summoning what little energy remains. “I can cast illusions,” I say softly, “something to deter them, but I’m not sure how long I can maintain it.”

He nods, acknowledging my exhaustion. Then he gestures to a chunk of broken stone. “We can block the archway. Force them into a bottleneck.” Even as he speaks, his voice wavers. He’s losing blood. Another roar jolts us into motion.

Together, we scramble to shift debris. My shoulder screams in protest. Vaelin, despite his injury, leverages his superior strength to shove large stones into a makeshift barrier. Dust stings my eyes. We manage to create a narrow channel leading into this side chamber, forcing anything that enters to funnel through a single gap. It won’t hold forever, but it’s something.

My magic flickers along the edges of my senses as I push illusions outward, layering them over the collapsed archway to create the impression of solid stone. If the creatures rely on sight or basic cunning, they might hesitate. My head pounds with the strain.Not too much longer,I tell myself.Just hold on.

No sooner do we brace ourselves behind the half-broken pillar than shadows ripple across the ruin’s entrance. A trio of beasts skulks in, shapes reminiscent of oversized hyenas with elongated limbs and twisted jaws. Their eyes glow with an eerie luminescence, evidence of arcane corruption. One sniffs the air, slime dripping from a mouth filled with needlelike teeth.

Vaelin tenses at my side, sword poised. I can sense his ragged breathing. The moment the first beast steps forward, illusions swirl around it—my attempt to confuse. It snarls, swiping at phantom shapes. But the trick only slows it a few heartbeats. These monsters, born of chaotic magic, won’t be fooled for long.

With a guttural snarl, the beast leaps over the rubble. Vaelin lunges, ignoring the pain in his body. His blade arcs through the air, catching the creature across its shoulder. Green-black ichor splatters the crumbling floor. Another monstrosity charges from the left, hissing. I fling a wave of force at it, but it’s weaker than I’d like. The creature staggers, then recovers with an earsplitting roar.

Panic floods my veins. My illusions won’t hold these abominations off forever. As Vaelin tangles with the first, the second leaps for me, claws outstretched. I scramble backward, nearly slipping on the rubble. My mind races, weaving a quick transformative spell aimed at the beast’s front limbs. The magic lances my skull with pain, but the creature’s forepaws contort, partially stiffening into stone. It crashes onto its side, howling in confusion. I gasp, reeling from the effort.

The final beast remains near the entrance, prowling with caution. Vaelin dispatches the first with a brutal thrust, then staggers. Blood drips onto the stones. He’s going pale. My stomach twists. If he collapses, I’m next.

The creature I partially petrified flails, smashing into a pillar. The structure groans ominously. Stone shards rain down, and a chunk of the overhead arch breaks free. I leap aside, narrowly avoiding being crushed. Dust chokes the air. The monstrous thing tries to shake off the petrification, flesh warping under the chaotic surge of its own twisted magic.

An unspoken understanding sparks between Vaelin and me. We press forward simultaneously—he slices with lethal precision, while I unleash the last dregs of my illusions to blind the creature’s sight. It thrashes, disoriented, and Vaelin lands a vicious strike at its throat. Another spray of greenish fluid, and it collapses with a final shriek.

Only the last beast remains, pacing at the entrance, perhaps wary of our defenses. My chest heaves, body trembling. Vaelin limps, sword tip dragging. The beast snarls, shifting its weight as though preparing a final charge. Through the haze of dust, I see Vaelin lock eyes with me.

“Together,” he rasps.

I nod, forcing air into my lungs. He grips his sword in both hands, ignoring the agony that must be coursing through him. I gather what scant force remains, letting illusions swirl around the beast’s head. For an instant, it hesitates, snapping at intangible shapes. Vaelin lunges. The creature tries to dodge, but it’s slowed by confusion. With one swift, punishing blow, he severs its spine. It slumps onto the rubble, twitching. A sickening hush falls.

For several heartbeats, we remain motionless, listening for any more roars. None come. My illusions fade. The temple echoes with the ragged cadence of our breathing. Shuddering, I sink to my knees. My entire body is numb with exhaustion, my magic spent. Vaelin stumbles, sword clattering from his grip as he braces himself against a fallen column.

The stench of ichor coats the air. We’re surrounded by monstrous carcasses, each oozing vile fluid. Half the chamber lies in ruin, fresh cracks spiderwebbing the walls. I fight nausea, pressing a hand to my mouth. If not for Vaelin’s swordsmanship—and my illusions—those creatures would have torn us to pieces.

Vaelin slumps against the column, head bowed. Blood seeps from his side, dangerously bright. He’s panting, face drawn. Without thinking, I crawl toward him, ignoring the voice in my head that screamsHe’s your enemy.But I can’t let him die. Not after we just fought side by side. My heart beats wildly, conflicting impulses vying for dominance.

I reach him, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder. “You’re hurt,” I say uselessly, my throat tight. He grits his teeth, refusing to meet my gaze. A moment later, his knees buckle. I help him ease down, biting my lip at the sight of his wound. The gash is deep, likely reopened from our battle. Blood mats his tunic, sliding down his abdomen in rivulets.

Wordlessly, I dig into my satchel, retrieving healing salves and a strip of bandage. My fingers shake, but I force them steady. Vaelin’s gaze finally meets mine, a swirl of caution and something else burning there. “Why… help me?” he croaks.

I swallow. “Because… you fought with me. Because those creatures would have killed us both if not for you.” My voice hovers between anger and reluctant gratitude. “And maybe… maybe I’m not as cruel as your Overlord.”

He exhales a shaky breath. No retort. When I press the salve against the wound, he hisses, jerking. But he doesn’t push me away. Gently, I wrap the bandage around his torso, ignoring the sticky warmth of blood on my hands. Each hiss of pain from him makes me flinch. I was raised to despise Dark Elves for their cruelty. But here, in this ruin, he’s simply a wounded man. The confusion knots in my stomach, intensifying.

At last, the bleeding slows. Vaelin sags, half-conscious. My own head spins from the magical exertion. We can’t leave; we’d never make it far in our conditions. So I shuffle us away from the carcasses, deeper into the corner of the side chamber where the air is a bit clearer. I brace him against a chunk of stone, ensuring he’s at least upright. My chest burns from overuse of illusions and transformations, each breath an ache.

A charged silence settles between us. The memory of that battle clangs in my mind—the moment we fought together, not as hunter and prey, but as partners. It’s a stark shift from how we faced each other a day ago, swords drawn and illusions swirling. The tension changes quality, from violent to something… uncertain. My pulse flutters, a wave of dizziness mixing with an inexplicable heat.

His obsidian skin, smeared with drying blood, glistens in the faint illumination that filters through the broken roof. I try to look away, but I keep glancing back, an odd awareness prickling my cheeks. He notices. His gaze locks onto mine, and I feel pinned in place, as though some gravitational pull tethers us.

I remember the moment in the courtyard when our eyes met, the confusion and attraction that flared. Now, with adrenaline spiking my senses, that draw seems magnified. My heart hammers.No.This can’t be real. He’s the Overlord’s enforcer, a man who hunts purnas. Yet the air crackles with unspoken electricity, neither of us able to deny it.

“Elira,” he murmurs, voice rough. The sound of my name in his mouth sends a shiver down my spine. I hate that it does. My rational mind screams that this is dangerous, a swirl of illusions I should dispel. But my body, pulsing with leftover adrenaline, betrays me with its longing for… something.

I search his face, expecting the usual steeled resolve, but I see doubt, conflict, and a flicker of—gods forbid—desire. Heat flushes my cheeks. “We should… keep watch,” I stammer, forcing my gaze away. The night is thick with threats, and we’re in no state to run if more creatures come.

He nods, but his gaze lingers. I sense his breathing deepen, chest expanding against the bandage. My own breath wavers, parted lips struggling for composure. The hush of the ruined temple feels far too intimate. The battered walls, the starlight, the memory of us standing shoulder to shoulder against monsters—everything collides in a swirl of raw emotion.

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