The camp was quieter than usual that evening.
The knowledge that they would reach the capital by tomorrow had spread like wildfire. Soldiers spoke in hushed, eager tones, their weariness softened by the nearness of home. Weapons were polished, cloaks mended, boots checked for the final march.
And in the center of it all, chained to a spike hammered deep into the earth, sat Victoria.
The fires burned around her, throwing shifting shadows across her face. She kept her head bowed, letting the soldiers think her weary, beaten, docile. But inside, her mind raced.
This is my last chance.
Once they entered the capital, it would be over. Damien's word was law there. In the palace, she would vanish behind marble walls and golden cages. She would never see the forest again. Never feel the soil beneath her nails. Never breathe free air.
Her wrists ached as she flexed against the cuffs. She had tested them every night, pushing her light into the iron until her skin burned, until she thought the metal might melt. Each time, it had resisted.
But tonight… tonight, she felt the faintest tremor. A crack she had never noticed before.
The goddess's light stirred within her, restless, urgent.
One chance. One night.
The soldiers were uneasy, though they tried to hide it. She caught their whispers when they thought she slept.
"Why bring her to the capital?"
"She's dangerous. You saw what she did."
"If the prince weren't so… attached…"
Some wanted her dead. Others feared her more than they feared Damien.
That fear could turn to suspicion. That suspicion could turn to violence.
Victoria's heart pounded. If she faltered, even once, they would not hesitate to cut her down.
She had to be swift. Silent. Certain.
When the sun dipped low and the fires burned higher, Damien came to her.
As always.
He dismissed the guards with a glance, his presence alone enough to scatter hardened men. He crouched before her, studying her face as though committing every detail to memory.
"You're restless," he murmured.
She kept her eyes lowered. "Wouldn't you be?"
His gloved hand tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes softened, though the steel beneath never faded.
"Tomorrow," he said, almost tenderly. "Tomorrow, they'll all see. No one will ever doubt again that you're mine."
The word scraped across her soul like a blade. She forced her voice to remain steady. "And if I never wanted to be yours?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then Damien leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing hers. His voice was a whisper, meant only for her.
"Then I'll teach you how."
Her breath caught, fury and despair tangling in her chest. His hand lingered on her cheek a moment longer before he stood, his shadow falling long and dark across her chains.
"Rest," he ordered. "Tomorrow will be the end of this."
And he left her, disappearing into his tent, where guards took their posts outside like statues.
Victoria waited.
She counted the slow minutes by the crackle of the fires, by the soft murmur of the soldiers' voices as one by one they fell to silence. The camp settled into uneasy slumber, the night growing deeper, colder.
Only when she was certain the last ember of chatter had faded did she close her eyes and draw the light inward.
It surged immediately, eager, burning through her veins like wildfire. She clenched her jaw to keep from gasping as heat built in her chest, spilling into her arms, pooling in her hands.
She pressed her palms to the cuffs.
The iron flared, fighting her, resisting as it always had. But this time she pushed harder.
Sweat broke across her brow as her skin blistered. She bit her tongue to stifle a cry. The light burned, brighter, hotter, until the iron began to glow faintly red.
"Come on," she whispered. "Break. Please…"
The goddess's gift surged in response, as though answering her plea.
And then—
A crack. Small, sharp, almost inaudible.
Her heart leapt.
The cuff trembled, the metal softening under the relentless assault of her mana. She poured everything into it, every shred of fury, grief, longing, every desperate breath of eight years chained.
Another crack.
She gasped, biting back a sob as the cuff split just enough for the light to spill through.
She yanked, ignoring the pain, and with a final spark of light—
The shackle snapped.
Her wrist was free.
For a moment she could only stare at it, trembling, disbelief crashing over her. Her hand was raw, blistered, but free.
Her other cuff still held. The ankle chains still bound her. But she had done it.
The goddess's light flickered warmly inside her chest, as if to say: Now.
A sound broke the silence.
A shift of boots in the dirt.
Her heart froze.
One of the night guards had turned, his gaze narrowing in the firelight. His eyes flicked to her, to the faint glow that still lingered on her skin.
For one breathless second, their gazes locked.
Then his mouth opened.
Victoria lunged, light flaring in her palm. It seared across the ground, dazzling, blinding. The soldier cried out, stumbling back, hands to his eyes.
"Alarm—!"
She didn't wait. She pulled her other wrist against the weakened cuff, pouring her mana into it until it too cracked. Pain lanced up her arm, but the metal shattered, clattering uselessly to the dirt.
Shouts erupted across the camp.
Victoria ripped at the ankle chains, fury and terror fueling her light. The iron glowed, screamed, then snapped.
The stake remained. But she was free.
She surged to her feet, staggering on unsteady legs, her light blazing around her like a beacon in the night.
Soldiers scrambled, weapons drawn, eyes wide with fear as the glow consumed the camp.
And in the heart of the chaos, the flap of Damien's tent tore open.
He stepped out, his eyes locking instantly on her.
Victoria froze, her heart hammering.
Damien's expression was unreadable—shock, fury, something darker all tangled together. His soldiers surged forward, but he raised a single hand, halting them.
The camp held its breath.
The tyrant and the woman of light faced each other across the firelit night, chains broken at her feet, the taste of freedom sharp on her tongue.
And Victoria knew: the moment had come.