Page 51 of His Darkest Devotion

As the bonfire crackles, I lean against him, letting his warmth ease the trembling in my limbs. Tomorrow, we head into the fire of prophecy. But tonight, we hold each other, hearts aligned in fragile unity, resolved to stand against a storm that threatens everything we hold dear.

Near midnight,I retreat to a small alcove prepared for me in the communal barracks—an old chamber carved into the mountainside. Most purnas sleep fitfully or not at all, anticipating dawn’s march. I settle onto a simple cot, illusions conjuring a soft glow across the rough-hewn walls. My muscles ache, and my mind buzzes with a thousand worries.

Footsteps approach. My pulse quickens, half expecting it to be Vaelin. Instead, Olyssia appears at the threshold, lips pressed in a thin line. “Thought I might find you awake,” she murmurs, stepping inside.

I sit up, tucking my legs beneath me. “Couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “Too many thoughts.”

She folds her arms, eyes flicking over me with concern. “This is big, Elira. The final stand. The gargoyles, the Overlord, the Red Purnas. We’re outnumbered. But seeing you and Vaelin together… it gives me hope.”

My cheeks flush. I sense the half-question in her voice. “He’s… he’s my ally,” I say simply.Ally, confidant, perhaps more.My chest tightens. “I know how it looks—trusting the Overlord’s former enforcer. But he’s proven himself.”

A slight smile curves her lips. “I believe you. And from the way he watches you, I suspect there’s more than alliance between you.”

Heat spreads in my cheeks.I can’t deny it.But I manage a small nod. “Yes, but let’s not dwell. We have a war to fight.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “Fair enough. Just… be careful. The prophecy weighs heavily on you.”

I exhale shakily. “I will. Tomorrow, we face them all. It’s terrifying, but I’m ready.”

Olyssia squeezes my shoulder, then departs, leaving me stewing in my tangled feelings. My illusions flicker along the walls, reflecting my anxious heartbeat. Eventually, exhaustion claims me, and I lie down, letting darkness drift over me in a restless haze.

The next morning,dawn breaks in pale gold across the mountain peaks. A clamor arises throughout the plateau: purnas grabbing staves and scrolls, novices rushing to distribute last-minute charms, half a dozen newly arrived humans forming small militia groups under supervision. The air tastes of tension and adrenaline.

I stand at the center of it all, Vaelin at my side. The Matriarch and elders finalize the battle lines: illusions to confuse gargoyles, wards to repel the Overlord’s soldiers, a strike force to handle Red Purna infiltration. My mouth goes dry—these plans might crumble in the first wave of chaos. But we must try.

We set out just after sunrise, the entire force trickling down the rocky paths. A hush falls, broken only by the rustle of cloaks and the dull clank of improvised weapons. Vaelin keeps pace with me, ignoring the stares from purnas still uneasy about his presence. I sense his tension in the rigid set of his jaw.

Halfway down the slope, I pause at an outcropping, scanning the horizon. In the distance, beyond the rolling foothills, a dark shape blots the morning light—Ghalarak fortress, I presume, where the Gargoyle Warlord bides his time. My stomach twists.I won’t let them enslave me or subjugate entire realms.

Vaelin stands with me, quiet. Then he reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together in plain view of the purnas behind us. A faint murmur ripples through them, but I ignore it. Right now, I need his closeness more than I fear their judgment.

His voice is low, nearly lost in the mountain wind. “We’ll face them. Together.”

I nod, heart pounding.Yes, we fight. I accept the prophecy’s burden, forging a fragile alliance to challenge the horrors of gargoyles, Overlord, and Red Purnas.

Stepping forward, I raise my chin, illusions swirling in a subtle display of resolve. The entire column of purnas and allies halts, glancing my way for guidance. My throat tightens with nerves, but I find the courage to speak.

“Listen,” I call, voice resonating across the rocky terrain, “we face an impossible threat. Gargoyles have awakened, aided by powers that would see us enslaved or destroyed. But we stand with loyal purnas, with humans seeking freedom, even with a Dark Elf who broke his chains.” I pause, meeting Vaelin’s gaze for strength. “We choose to protect each other. We choose to fight for a future that defies tyranny, that defies monstrous fate.”

A subdued roar of agreement ripples through the crowd. My heart swells with gratitude.They believe. Or they want to believe.That’s enough.

We resume our march, adrenaline burning in my veins. I recall the Matriarch’s urgent telepathic call, the Red Purnas’ alliance with the Overlord, and the gargoyle roars echoing across the land.No more hiding. No more fear.

By midday, we approach the lower valleys, where we plan to rally or intercept any incoming threat. As we descend, Vaelin squeezes my hand. I glance at him, reading the unspoken question in his eyes:Are we truly ready?

I press a trembling kiss to his knuckles, letting illusions shimmer around our entwined fingers. My heart floods with a fierce love that transcends fear. “We are,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion.

He exhales, relief flickering in his eyes. In that moment, I realize fully: I trust him, monstrous blood and all. Whatever the prophecy demands, I’ll stand with him, forging a path that might save Protheka from descending into utter ruin.

The day stretches long, the slope behind us now lost in swirling mist. Each step thrums with tension, yet my resolve only grows.This is the break into three,I think, recalling how stories often pivot at such moments: a final push toward destiny. And so, hand in hand with Vaelin, I lead an army of frightened but determined souls to the front lines of a conflict that might reshape our world forever.

We might fail. We might die. But I refuse to bow to terror. Because in Vaelin’s eyes, in the loyalty of my coven, in the fragile alliances we’ve built, I see a spark of something unstoppable: hope.

And so, as we march toward a horizon darkened by gargoyle wings and the Overlord’s looming shadow, I lift my chin, illusions rippling, blood racing with unwavering conviction.I choose to fight. I choose to believe we can save each other—and save a broken world that teeters on the edge of destruction.

Let the prophecy come. We’re ready to face it head-on.

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