Moonlight pooled through the tall glass windows of the war chamber, casting silver lines across the black marble floor. The witch stood there, barefoot, a shadow wrapped in white hair. She traced the edge of the map on the table, her finger pausing at the southern borders of the Azure Dominion.
"You're planning to strike here," she said, her voice low and calm. "The Dominion's border outposts are weak, and the Duke of Veiren has no loyalty to his king."
Velas stepped out of the shadows behind her, arms folded. "And you figured all that from a glance?"
Liora smirked, her lips bloodless. "I was raised in a monastery near the border. Before I burned it down."
She turned to him slowly, her silver eyes catching the dim torchlight. "Tell me, Velas. Why do you trust me?"
"I don't," he said without missing a beat.
She laughed—quietly, but sincerely.
"But I believe in utility," he continued. "And power. You didn't just burn a library—you destroyed knowledge the Empire has hoarded for centuries. That takes more than recklessness. It takes vision. Pain."
Liora's eyes narrowed. "And pain is currency to you, isn't it?"
"It's the only one the gods never devalue."
She approached him. "You speak like a prophet. But I wonder… do you even know what you're building?"
Velas looked past her, at the red-scarred map. "A kingdom where monsters like us don't have to kneel."
That answer silenced her. Just for a moment.
Then her fingers brushed against the collar still around her neck. "Remove it."
Velas stepped forward. His fingers touched the ancient iron band. Symbols glowed faintly—sigils of suppression and obedience.
With a whisper in an arcane tongue and a pulse of his incubus power, the collar split with a hiss and clattered to the floor.
Liora took a slow breath, rubbing her neck. "I never thought I'd feel air there again."
"You're free," Velas said.
"No." She looked up at him. "Now I'm yours."
---
Elsewhere in the Fortress
Elira watched from the high balcony. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. She'd seen the way Velas had looked at Liora. Not lustfully—yet—but with that dangerous interest he reserved for women who were useful and broken in equal measure.
"You're jealous," said a soft voice behind her.
Elira turned. It was Mira, one of Velas's new recruits—an empath, half-demon, and former courtesan turned spy. She stood barefoot, robes flowing in the breeze, her eyes gentle and distant.
"I'm cautious," Elira replied. "That woman is a walking powder keg."
Mira tilted her head. "So were you, once."
Elira didn't answer. Her gaze returned to the moonlit tower where Velas and Liora stood. Two broken pieces drawn by ambition. And pain.
"Maybe he's what we all want," Mira murmured. "A fire strong enough to forge us into something new."
"Or burn us all to ash," Elira muttered.
---
Later That Night
Velas didn't sleep.
He sat at the edge of his bed, shirtless, the marks of rituals and battle forming a map of scars across his back and chest. His thoughts were tangled—memories of his father's blade, of the brothel where he'd been sold, of the first time he'd kissed a girl not for seduction—but survival.
The door creaked open.
Liora entered, silent as fog. She didn't ask permission. She simply walked to him, holding a flask of dark wine and two cups.
He raised an eyebrow.
"I couldn't sleep," she said.
He poured. She sat beside him.
For a long moment, they didn't speak.
Then she broke the silence. "Do you think there's a future for people like us?"
Velas stared into his cup. "Not one we don't make ourselves."
Liora took a sip, eyes glinting. "Then I'll help you make it. But not for free."
"Oh?" He smirked. "What's your price?"
She leaned in close, lips almost brushing his ear.
"I want revenge."
---
The Next Morning
The fortress stirred with whispers.
Liora had stayed in Velas's chambers overnight.
Elira said nothing—but the tightness in her shoulders didn't go unnoticed. Mira smiled cryptically but kept her observations to herself.
Velas emerged from his quarters, radiating the same calm control he always did—but his steps were more purposeful. Something had shifted.
He stood before his gathered inner circle: Elira, Mira, Liora, and the battle-scarred Captain Darran.
"We strike in two days," Velas announced. "Blackspire believes we're licking our wounds. The Azure Dominion thinks we're disorganized."
He pointed to the southern outpost on the map. "We'll take Fort Veiren first. A small strike team. Me, Elira, Darran… and Liora."
Elira raised an eyebrow. "She's ready?"
"I am," Liora said, stepping forward. "And I know their wards. I can bring them down."
Velas nodded. "Good. We'll take it, hold it, and declare the first true city of our new dominion. A kingdom born not from bloodlines—but from rebellion."
Darran barked a laugh. "You really think the people will follow an Incubus?"
Velas grinned, eyes gleaming. "No. I think they'll follow power. And I plan to give them a damn good reason."