I didn't know how long I'd been lying there.
Time doesn't pass the same when your senses are stripped away.
The cuffs kept squeezing. Not physically — magically. Pressing against the flow of mana in my veins like a vice around my lungs. My awareness had been reduced to foggy outlines and the sluggish trickle of my own heartbeat. Even the world I usually saw in faint glow, mana threads, outlines, pulses had dulled. Grayed out like the end of a dying storm.
I stared up at the ceiling, trying to conserve what little energy I had left. My body wasn't broken, but it was barely mine.
Across the cell, William hadn't moved since I told him to get it together. He was quiet now, at least. Sitting like a wilted statue. I didn't have the strength to check if he was still crying. And honestly, I didn't care.
What was I supposed to do — comfort him? Tell him everything would be okay?
When I couldn't even believe it myself?
The devils outside had gone quieter. Still present, still burning with slow, simmering mana, but not speaking. I couldn't see their mana now, not with this even dimmer sight, but their presence loomed like wolves just beyond the trees.
I shut my eyes. Tried to slow my breathing. Focus.
I needed a plan.
But there was nothing. No weak wall. No guard rotations I could exploit. No way to loosen the cuffs. No one I could trust.
I was completely alone.
No.
No, not completely—
Something surged through my chest. A flicker of warmth. Familiar. Urgent. Sharp.
Then a voice, clear and low, threaded right through my mind:
"Annabel… can you hear me?"
My breath caught. I sat up fast, pulse kicking in my throat.
"Salem?"
"I'm nearby. I've been checking our bond near every outpost I come by. I finally felt you."
A shaky laugh left me. I pressed a cuffed hand to my forehead and bit down hard on the swell of emotion rising in my throat.
"Gods, Salem. You don't know how good it is to hear your voice. I—"
No. Focus. I didn't have time for this.
"I'm in a holding cell two floors below one of the main outlook posts. William's here too. They're planning to keep him as leverage against the Elven King. Me? I'm the next meal."
"Next meal!?"
"Princess Kali," I said. The name tasted like rot. "They want her to drain me. Fully. My mana, Salem. All of it."
Silence.
Then—
"That won't happen."
Her voice dropped, low and lethal. There was a tremble there — not fear. Rage.
"Whatever you do, stall. Rōko's riding for backup. But if she's too slow, I swear to the stars— I'll burn Blazewind to the ground myself."
I laughed. A dry, cracked sound. Weak. But it was real.
"I'd say that's crazy… but it's you."
There was another pause. Then:
"Annabel, I lov—"
The bond shattered.
Gone. Like a snapped string.
I gasped and clutched my chest — not from pain, but loss. The warmth was just… gone. Empty space where she'd just been. Cut off like someone had slammed a door on a scream.
I blinked back the surge of panic. She'd found me. That was real.
She was coming.
And I couldn't fall apart now.
(Salem POV)
⸻
The roads blurred under the horse's hooves, cracked and clawed from devil-kind long before I ever breathed. I passed scorched watchtowers and half-collapsed forts, each one crawling with cursed mana — thick like tar, foul like old blood.
And still, I rode.
I didn't look left or right. Just forward. Toward the pulse. Toward her.
Every outpost I passed, I reached. I stretched that fraying cord between us, pulling, praying it would go taut again — but it never did. Not until the sixth. Or maybe the seventh.
A devil stepped out into the road, he was tall, horned, grinning like rot. His armor bore the mark of Blazewind command. His mana wasn't weak. Probably rank 2. Maybe higher.
"Now hold on," he growled, swaggering toward me, jagged blade slung over one shoulder. "Didn't hear about a transfer coming through. You don't smell right. What's your name, soldier?"
I didn't slow.
He stepped closer. "Oi. You deaf under that tin? Speak when spoken to."
When he reached for the reins —
I moved.
Silence, filth.
My arm flicked once. A clean slash.
His eyes went wide, blood fountaining from the gash across his throat before he could even grunt. He staggered back, clutching at the open wound, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.
I was already past him.
Another corpse on my trail.
⸻
A few hundred meters later, I felt it.
The bond. A thread of warmth cutting through the haze. Weak, but real. Familiar.
Annabel.
I sat straighter, hand curling around the reins so tight the leather creaked.
"Annabel… can you hear me?"
A pause. Then—
"Salem?"
Her voice shook. I could almost see her — battered, angry, still standing.
"I'm nearby. I've been checking our bond near every outpost I come by. I finally felt you."
I exhaled slowly, grounding myself in the sound of her.
"Gods, Salem. You don't know how good it is to hear your voice. I—"
I waited.
But she caught herself.
"I'm in a holding cell two floors below one of the main outlook posts. William's here too. They're planning to keep him as leverage against the Elven King. Me? I'm the next meal."
I blinked. "Next meal!?"
"Princess Kali," she spat. "They want her to drain me. Fully. My mana, Salem. All of it."
The world tilted. My hand clenched so tight I felt the bone crack.
They're going to kill her. Slowly. Publicly.
Not if I get there first.
"That won't happen."
My voice dropped into something I barely recognized — low, cold, burning from the inside.
"Whatever you do, stall. Rōko's riding for backup. But if she's too slow, I swear to the stars— I'll burn Blazewind to the ground myself."
A small laugh came through the bond. It sounded like cracked glass, but it was real.
"I'd say that's crazy… but it's you."
And gods, I wanted to hold her.
Just for one second.
Just one breath where I wasn't hunting or hiding or killing — just us, the way it should have been from the start.
"Annabel, I lov—"
A hand yanked me off the horse.
Hard. Fast. Clawed.
I slammed into the dirt — armor cracking, helmet skidding across the blackened stone and bouncing once before settling in the dust. My hair spilled free in a mess of soot-dark strands.
The bond cut off like a blade to the throat.
A devil stood over me — scarred, thickly armored, yellow eyes narrowed with suspicion. His grip was still clamped on my shoulder as I struggled to rise.
"You're not one of us," he said, snarling. "That smell — that mana. You're not on any of our rolls. What are you?"
I raised my head. Let him see.
The truth.
"I'm the last mistake you'll ever make."
His hand reached for the horn at his belt.
To call others.
Wrong move.
I dissolved — shadows curling up around me like steam off boiling tar. He staggered, off balance.
I reformed above him. When your land has dark reflexions everywhere, shadow thrives.
Blade already in hand.
And then — stab.
Straight through his chest.
He gasped. A wet, gurgling sound. Looked down. My blade was buried deep, all the way through — and clutched at the other end was his heart, still pumping slow and confused in my hand.
I watched the horror flicker across his face.
"You should've run."
I crushed it.
Blood exploded across my face — hot, thick, metallic — splattering down my jaw, my collar, the burnished metal of the stolen armor.
His body crumpled.
Mine did not.
The outpost was just across a burned like forest.
I could see it. And i felt Annabel in there