The Tower rose like a black fang at the center of Vale House, its spire splitting the sky. No matter which corridor Elma and Calista fled through, its shadow found them, stretching long across the walls, beckoning them closer.
Every step throbbed in Elma's veins, the shard whispering louder with each pulse. Tower. Break the Owner. Burn the leash until nothing remains.
She staggered once, catching herself against the wall as another wave of heat tore through her chest. The sigils carved into the stone recoiled at her touch, flaring bright before sputtering out. Behind her, Calista's hand steadied her shoulder.
"You're burning up," Calista said.
Elma's voice came rough, raw. "It's the shard. It wants… more."
Calista's gaze sharpened, but her grip didn't falter. "Then we give it more when we get to the Tower. Not here."
The house answered with a groan, walls grinding as though they resented her words. Ahead, a grand stairwell coiled upward toward the Tower's base, but the steps warped as they watched. Stone shifted, stretching into impossible angles, bannisters bleeding with glowing sigils.
Nitron's voice slid through the air, cruel and intimate.
"You think you're running toward freedom, little vessel? The Tower is mine. Every brick, every sigil, every stair belongs to me. It will break you as surely as I did."
Elma forced her feet forward, each step heavy with the shard's fire. Calista moved beside her, their hands brushing but never parting completely. Servants lingered at the edges of the stairwell, faces pale, whispers rising as they recognized what they were seeing: the leashless vessel glowing in defiance, and the master's queen at her side.
The rebellion had faces now.
They climbed.
With every level, the air grew hotter, denser, heavy with the shard's resonance. The stairs twisted beneath their boots, turning into narrow ledges that curled around bottomless chasms. Whispers leaked from the abyss below, voices of women long gone.
"Elma."
"Vessel."
"Burn him."
Her steps faltered as the voices bled into her head, and suddenly she wasn't in the Tower at all. She was kneeling on cold stone, Nitron's leash digging into her throat. The weight of his gaze pressed into her skull. The sound of Calista's silence cut sharper than any whip.
Her breath hitched.
Then warmth—Calista's hand clamping hers, dragging her back.
"Elma. Look at me."
She did, and the vision broke. The leash was gone. Calista's eyes were here. The abyss receded.
"You're stronger than his lies," Calista said. "Stronger than him."
Elma's chest heaved. "Not without you."
The shard surged, approving, searing light racing down her arms. Together they stepped forward, ignoring the phantom screams, until the stairs straightened into the Tower's inner gate.
Two massive doors loomed ahead, carved from black stone, veins of red sigil-light crawling across them like cracks. They pulsed in rhythm with Elma's heartbeat.
The shard whispered again: Open me. Claim me. Become what he fears.
Elma lifted her hand, but Calista caught her wrist. "Wait. He'll be waiting."
As if summoned, the shadows behind them shivered. Nitron's footsteps rang out, deliberate, echoing like a hammer striking nails.
They turned.
Nitron stood at the base of the stairs, his coat torn, pale hair matted with sweat, eyes burning with pure venom. Black sigils writhed around him like serpents, bleeding from his hands into the stone. The house bent under his command, railings splintering, walls bowing.
"You've run far enough," he said, voice sharp as broken glass. "The Tower is mine. And when I drag you back down these stairs, vessel, you'll beg for your leash again."
Calista stepped in front of Elma, her voice slicing through his rage. "You sound desperate, husband."
Nitron's face twisted. He lifted his hand, and the entire stairwell convulsed. Stones ripped free, spiraling into jagged projectiles that hurtled toward them.
Elma threw both arms wide. The shard erupted in a scream of light, a wave of white fire splitting the air. Stone shattered mid-flight, raining down in molten shards. The backlash staggered her to her knees, smoke curling from her arms.
Calista dropped beside her, steadying her before she fell. "He's trying to break you before the doors," she hissed.
Elma's vision swam, but the shard burned hotter, screaming for violence. "Then we finish this inside."
Nitron's laughter followed them as they turned. "Run, little vessel. Run into the Tower. I'll rip the shard from your body myself."
Elma shoved both palms against the black doors. Heat roared up her arms, the shard searing with recognition.
Mine. Ours. Open.
The doors groaned. Red veins cracked wider, bursting into blinding light. With a thunderous boom, the Tower's heart opened.
They stumbled inside.
The air was suffocating, thick with raw magic. The chamber stretched impossibly tall, its walls etched with endless murals—scenes of vessels past, rebellions drowned in blood. At the center, a throne of stone and bone rose like a jagged crown. It pulsed in sync with the shard, a heartbeat that shook the floor.
Elma clutched her chest, her veins blazing. Every mural seemed to reach for her, whispering her name.
Calista's voice cut through. "This place… it's alive."
The shard whispered in agreement. This is where leashes are forged. This is where Owners die.
Elma swayed, caught between terror and hunger. Her body screamed to yield, to collapse into the shard's pull, to let it consume everything. But Calista's hand pressed to her back, steady and grounding.
"Elma," she said firmly. "Don't lose yourself. Not now."
Elma clenched her jaw. "I won't. Not while you're here."
Behind them, the Tower's doors slammed shut. Nitron's presence swelled in the chamber, a wave of black sigils crashing forward as he stepped into the light of the murals.
For the first time, his perfect mask was gone. His face twisted in fury, veins bulging with power he could barely control.
"You should have stayed broken," he snarled.
Elma straightened, fire rippling down her arms. Calista stood with her, shoulders squared, eyes blazing with defiance.
"We're not broken," Elma said. Her voice shook the chamber, echoing against the throne. "We're free."
The shard screamed in triumph. The murals blazed.
And the Tower's heart prepared to witness its master's fall.