It was a grand celebration of the winter solstice. Children took turns offering thanks to their parents, their teachers, and, of course, to Shepha for all they had been given. Then it was Malbonte's turn.
As the first offspring of an angel-demon union to survive, he had always drawn curiosity. Immortals constantly approached his parents, studying their son with a mix of fascination and wariness. And so, when he stood up to give thanks, all attention was on him.
The room fell silent and his clear voice carried through the hall. "Thank you, Shepha, for my mother! And thank you, Shephamalum, for my father!"
A murmur rippled through the crowd—first confused, then alarmed. Many had no idea whom the boy had just thanked. But some did. They recognized the name Shephamalum and understood the danger of speaking it aloud.
The moment Malbonte uttered the name, Shepha heard it too. He had worked tirelessly to erase all knowledge of his twin brother, Shephamalum, whom he had imprisoned in an inescapable dungeon. And now, for this little half-breed child to blurt it out in front of the largest gathering of immortals…
No, he wouldn't allow it. He would not allow this child to destroy his carefully ordered universe. He immediately dispatched his highest ranking seraph to remove the boy from the celebration.
But Malbonte, though just a child, could sense the seraph's intent. He could sense the fear, the judgment, and the malice radiating from him. He saw the threat in every step as the seraph approached. Terror seized him, and he staggered back, shouting, "No!" over and over. His parents stood paralyzed with fear and confusion.
The seraph reached for Malbonte, gripping his shoulder with iron strength.
Panic overtook the boy. Instinct flared. Within him was a power that had been growing, untamed and immense. In that moment, it surged forth.
A dark force struck the seraph with devastating impact. Black veins spread across his face, creeping down his torso. In mere moments, he collapsed—lifeless.
The boy had killed the highest-ranking angel in Heaven as though it was nothing.
Chaos erupted. Amidst the commotion, Malbonte's parents, shaken from their paralysis at last, took him and ran.
From that moment, Malbonte became the embodiment of everything the immortals feared and hated. For a child to be capable of killing a seraph with such ease, he had to be utterly evil. A monster. A plague. He had to be put away to protect everyone, before he destroyed everything.
And so, the hunt began.
When Vicky was brought into Malbonte's office later that morning, she looked fresh and composed, all traces of her recent illness erased. Her damp hair clung slightly to her skin, still dewy from a bath, and a healthy glow warmed her complexion.
Malbonte's pulse quickened at the memory of waking up to her in his arms. But he buried the thought beneath a cold, impassive mask.
"Have you thought it over?" he asked bluntly.
The abrupt shift in his demeanor—so starkly different from the night before—seemed to catch her off guard. Still, she straightened, determination tightening her features even as unease flickered in her eyes.
"Thought what over?" she asked cautiously.
He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You know what. My proposal."
She hesitated, her silence stretching longer than he liked. His patience thinned.
"I'm waiting," he pressed. "What's your answer?"
"I…"
A sharp knock shattered the tense moment. Malbonte's jaw clenched. What now?
"Enter," he barked.
The door swung open, and Fencio strode in, his grin smug and self-satisfied.
"Luck is on our side," he announced.
Malbonte's irritation deepened. "Speak."
Fencio's eyes gleamed with barely contained glee. "We've caught some big fish today."
The angel's arrogance grated on Malbonte's nerves. Was Fencio deliberately testing his patience, or was he just eager to flaunt his usefulness? Either way, Malbonte wasn't in the mood for games.
Without another word, he pushed back from his desk and strode forward. As he passed Vicky, he caught her by the elbow, dragging her along with him. Her startled gasp brought a flicker of satisfaction to his lips. He didn't want to give her time to think up excuses and stall.
The scene in the camp felt like déjà vu. More pawns from the Academy, kneeling on the stony ground. Among them: Lucifer, an angel, and a demoness.
The angel's aura was potent and reminiscent of Fencio's. That had to be Fencio's son, Dino. The seething fury in his eyes as he glared at Fencio confirmed Malbonte's suspicion. He didn't recognize the demoness, but Fencio was quick to inform him that she was Mammon's daughter.
Malbonte's lips curled into a wicked grin. Rebecca was slipping—letting key pieces fall into his hands was amateurish.
"What are you—" Vicky started, stepping forward instinctively, but Malbonte's arm shot out, blocking her path.
"Imprison them," he ordered.
He gave precise instructions for each. Dino and Mimi were to be placed in private quarters under guard. But Lucifer? He was destined for the very cell where Vicky had been confined. The former demon prince would get no concessions here.
Vicky followed Malbonte back to his office without protest, her steps brisk as if she feared he might lock her away again. She stayed silent until he had reseated himself at his desk.
"These are my friends," she said. "Can I see them? Please!"
Malbonte's eyes bored into hers, searching. Her desperation was palpable—but beneath it, he sensed something else. Was she truly pleading for all of them, or was there one in particular she was most concerned about?
"And whom do you want to visit?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
He tensed, waiting for her answer. All those visions of Lucifer hovering near Vicky flashed into his mind, souring his thoughts.
"Can't I see all of them?" she blurted out.
Malbonte shot her an evil look. "It seems to me that you don't quite grasp the essence of your position. You can't order me around like a mistress. You have no right to ask, let alone demand, anything. The only reason you're still in one piece and unshackled is because you never gave me an answer." He leaned forward, his voice almost a growl. "Are you with me or against me?"
Her lips parted as though to answer, but then closed again. Her gaze flickered between Malbonte and the desk, her posture rigid as if she were bracing for battle. Was it fear keeping her silent, or calculation? The tremor in her hands said one thing, but the defiance in her eyes suggested another. She was infuriating.
"My patience is about to run out," he emphasized.
She squared her shoulders and she met his gaze once again. "I promise to give you an answer as soon as I see my friends."
Malbonte's eyes narrowed. He leaned back, letting the silence stretch between them. Was she stalling again, or was this a genuine plea? He studied her, weighing her sincerity. Granting her request was a risk. But allowing her a shred of freedom might soften her resistance—or reveal where her true loyalties lay.
"You can't see all of them," he said finally, his voice cold. "Make your choice."
"Mimi," she answered immediately. Then, after a brief pause, "and Fyr."
Malbonte's brow twitched, momentarily betraying his curiosity. Her choice of Mimi was understandable. But the seadragon? That choice was…unexpected. Foolish sentimentality, he concluded.
He nodded curtly. "You can have fifteen minutes with each. Safrai will escort you."
The moment the order was given, Vicky turned on her heel and strode out, moving as though she feared he might change his mind at any second.
Lucifer hadn't been her first or second choice. That, at least, was something. And yet, Malbonte resented the relief he felt over her choice.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk as he mulled over the trio they had captured today. How had Vicky warranted such loyalty from three birthright immortals, each willing to risk capture for her rescue?
It wasn't merely that they had come—it was that they had cooperated, setting aside allegiances that typically divided Heaven and Hell, all to free an Unclaimed woman they had known for less than a year. What was it about Vicky that inspired such devotion? Was it her defiance in the face of authority? Her courage bordering on recklessness? Her empathy?
Fencio had scoffed, claiming Lucifer and Dino had both succumbed to Vicky's "spurious charms." But Malbonte had little faith in Fencio's interpretations, especially where his son was concerned. The older angel's grudge against Rebecca clouded his judgment, twisting every thought regarding Vicky.
As for Lucifer… Malbonte's thoughts darkened. There was something there—something beyond friendship. Had the son of Satan allowed himself to be ensnared by sentiment, or was there another motive at play?
A sharp knock at the door cut through his thoughts.
"Enter," he commanded.
A prison guard stepped inside, bowing low. "My lord, Lucifer requests a meeting with you."
Malbonte's lips curled into a cruel smirk, cold amusement glinting in his eyes. So, the demon prince wanted to negotiate.
"Denied," he said instantly. As the guard turned to leave, he added, "When Vicky is finished with her visits, take her to the dining hall. No one is to lay a finger on her."
The guard bowed and exited, leaving Malbonte alone once more.
Since his return, many immortals had reached out to him, offering wealth, armies, or information in exchange for power, their self-serving agendas as transparent as glass. He had been selective, weighing the risks versus benefits before accepting any alliance, discarding those who sought only their own advancement.
Lucifer, he suspected, was no different. His request reeked of desperation. And desperation was unworthy of negotiation.
Malbonte reached the dining area in time to catch the tail end of Vicky's conversation with Zigza. Zigza was a bit of an unpredictable element, but he seemed to have a particular fondness for Vicky. She had apparently impressed him during a past visit to the prison where he had been held.
Curious about their exchange but ready to intervene if necessary, Malbonte lingered in the shadows.
"Why so sad?" Zigza asked, his tone almost flirtatious. "You're not in jail. You're free."
"Bullshit!" Vicky snapped, her voice sharp as a whipcrack.
"Why is that?" Zigza asked, grinning, his tongue flicking between his teeth.
"Am I free?" Vicky demanded.
"You're not shackled, and you're breathing fresh air. You're not in a cage," Zigza replied with a shrug. "Of course, you're free."
Malbonte smirked. Zigza had spent centuries in Hell's prison as punishment for stealing Time, so his concept of freedom was rather skewed.
"So I can fly away from here at any moment?" Vicky asked.
"No, you can't," Zigza admitted, still grinning, though unease flickered in his black eyes.
"Then maybe I can walk around the camp on my own, as much as I want?" Vicky leaned forward, her tone scathing.
"No… you can't," Zigza replied, the grin fading. His voice lost its teasing edge.
Vicky leaned in closer, her words cutting. "Then your freedom is bullshit."
Malbonte stepped forward, breaking the tension. "Of course, it's not as comfortable here as it was at the Academy," he said smoothly, "but this place has its charms."
Vicky stiffened, her shoulders jerking back as she turned toward him.
"Come on," he said, nodding for her to follow. "Let's take a walk."
He led her away from the dining area, waiting for her to speak, to ask something—anything. But she remained silent. Finally, unable to bear the silence, he spoke.
"Maybe you have some questions for me?" he asked, keeping his tone casual.
She glanced at him, her eyes probing. "Do you consider yourself more of a demon?"
Malbonte blinked, caught off guard by the question. It was unexpectedly personal, unrelated to his goals and strategies. After a brief pause, he decided to answer honestly.
"I'm forced to be more of a demon," he admitted. "Evil is expected of me. I am a monster to everyone. They wanted to destroy me then, and they want to destroy me now. I simply…adjust to the situation they created."
"That sounds like an excuse," Vicky challenged.
Malbonte turned sharply to face her, his expression darkening. "I will destroy them all," he said coldly. "And I don't care if I'm a monster in the eyes of others or not. I'll do whatever it takes to achieve my goal."
Her brows furrowed. "And what is this goal?"
He said nothing, his jaw tightening. She waited, but he refused to answer.
After a moment, she asked, "How did it feel to be in perpetual darkness?"
He exhaled slowly, the question dredging up painful memories. "In the darkness lived only the darkest side of my soul," he said. He paused, his gaze distant, conjuring that unspeakable abyss. "It survived only for revenge. I was like a red-hot stove, and the moment I reconnected with my good side, it was as if someone poured a bucket of ice water over me.
"Now I think more soberly. But back then, I was consumed by fury, by hatred. But I watched my plan slowly come to fruition," he continued, his tone cold, distant. "I pulled at the strings, careful not to burn them with my anger. But now… I'd rather cease to exist than go back there and be left without—" He stopped abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"And be left without Bont?" Vicky's soft voice completed the thought, her words landing on the crux.
Malbonte stiffened. He stepped back, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. He couldn't let her provoke him into baring his soul.
"I want to show you something before it gets dark," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "Night falls fast here."
He led her to the paddocks where the subantras were housed. Their talons scraped against the rocky ground with a harsh, grating sound, while their wings rustled the air like dry leaves in the wind. The sharp, metallic tang of their scent blended with the earthy dampness of the terrain, creating an atmosphere both primal and awe inspiring.
Vicky took one look at them and froze; fear radiated from her in waves. Unlike the others in the camp, who could take solace in knowing the subantras were on their side, she had no such assurance.
"Back in the days when angels fought demons, each side tried to tame these creatures," Malbonte said, his voice almost reverent. "Subantras are fast, strong, and violent—perfect warriors. But no one ever managed to tame them."
"Until you…" she whispered, awe creeping into her voice.
"Until me," he agreed. He moved behind her, unable to resist her pull. Her aura had mingled with his dark essence, blending into something unique and alluring. His power no longer roiled within her; it was harmonizing with hers, adapting to its vessel. The realization stirred a mix of emotions in him: anger, loss, and an odd sense of pride.
"They can't defeat me," he murmured in her ear.
She trembled but didn't pull away. "What are you trying to achieve?" she asked, her voice low as she tilted her head, her eyes searching his face.
Her lips were so close. One tilt of the head, and his lips would be on hers.
With an effort, Malbonte kept his gaze on the subantras, though every fiber of his awareness remained locked on the woman beside him.
"I want to kill Shepha," he said calmly.
Vicky's face paled, horror washing over her features.
"I have eyes and ears everywhere," he continued. "At the school, in the Citadel… Shepha will pay for his indifference."
Indifference was a knife that twisted silently, without acknowledgment, without satisfaction. Shepha's cosmic face filled his mind, that unreadable mask when he had passed judgment to split him in half. Shepha's indifference hadn't just condemned him; it had defined him.
It hadn't been enough for the god to cast his dark-half into the abyss to be tortured by his brother—no, even Bont, innocent and untainted, had been left to rot in isolation. That was Shepha's version of mercy. A prison was the best he could offer to the "good" half of his soul. His treatment at Shepha's hands reflected the god's entire philosophy towards his creations.
Malbonte let out a bitter laugh.
"Tell me, which of us is the bigger misanthrope? The Creator, who lets his children destroy each other, or me, who wants to change things—even if my methods are… unconventional?"
"Bont thought otherwise," Vicky said softly.
Malbonte's anger flared, sharp and irrational. He hated how she said that name, soft and reverent, as though it belonged to someone else entirely. What did she see when she looked at him now? Was it Bont's lingering shadow that she mourned? That part of himself he had subsumed in becoming whole. Did she filter all his actions through the lens of that fragmented innocence, comparing him to a ghost that no longer existed?
His hands moved before he could stop himself, gripping her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. His fingers tightened, his dark eyes burning into hers.
"There's nothing worse than indifference," he spat. "I'd rather face hate and pain. At least hatred acknowledges you exist. Indifference… indifference pretends you're nothing."
He released her abruptly, immediately regretting his outburst. Her eyes searched his, not with fear but with something else—something that made him feel exposed, as though she could see through the cracks in his armor into the depths of his soul.
He turned away.
"Come on," he said, forcing composure back into his voice. "A reunion awaits you."
Night had fallen by the time Malbonte led Vicky to the open courtyard. A bonfire flickered there, casting jagged shadows across the stony ground. The sharp scent of woodsmoke mingled with the nighttime aroma of flora and fauna. Around the firepit, four captives stood with their wings and hands bound: Lucifer, Dino, Mimi, and Andy.
Fencio sat by the fire with his hands outstretched toward the flames. He looked up as they approached.
Malbonte gestured for Vicky to join the group. She hesitated, her gaze sweeping over her friends, before finally taking a seat across from Fencio.
"Glad we are all here," Malbonte said, his commanding posture and voice in sharp contrast to the tension hanging over the group. "I think you've all had enough time to consider which side you're on."
Silence greeted him, broken only by the crackling flames and the distant rustle of the subantras.
"So…" Malbonte drawled, his eyes scanning the prisoners, "nobody wants to speak up?"
Lucifer stepped forward with the self-assurance of someone who believed his position unassailable. "I do."
Malbonte tilted his head slightly, waiting.
"I'll fight for you," Lucifer declared, "if everything you want to do is to make this world a better place." He paused, the next words heavy with his expectations. "AND if after the war, I take my father's place."
Ah, there it was: the demand.
Malbonte said simply, "No."
The single word landed like a slap. Lucifer's expression twisted with disbelief, then fury. "No?!"
"No," Malbonte repeated, his tone unyielding.
"Why?" Lucifer snapped, his voice sharp with indignation.
Malbonte's lip curled in disdain. "I'll decide who takes that throne," he said. "Because from now on, Hell will be equal to Heaven. And the new Satan must be worthy of the title."
"I deserve it," Lucifer claimed, his wings straining against their bindings, showing his agitation.
"Then prove it," Malbonte said coolly. Bloodline alone wasn't enough to rule in the world he was building.
The demon trembled with rage, his pupils flashing red. "I'll prove myself," he snarled. "But I won't ask anyone's permission to sit on Hell's throne."
"I hope you achieve your goal," Malbonte said dismissively and turned his attention to Mimi.
"And you?" he asked her. "Have you decided?"
She hesitated, then answered. "I like it here, but… no."
Malbonte's expression didn't falter, but he was disappointed. He had hoped Mimi could be persuaded. Her allegiance would have been a valuable asset, especially in negotiating with Mammon. But she seemed unwilling to be swayed.
"Andy," he continued, turning to the Unclaimed. "A skilled flying soldier like you would be useful to me."
Andy glared at him, his face twisted with fury. "Go to hell!" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.
Malbonte grinned viciously, his dark power flaring just enough to send Andy to his knees. The young immortal gasped, writhing in pain, his bravado shattering in an instant.
"If this were active wartime," Malbonte said, his tone deadly, "I'd personally impale you for those words." He released his hold, letting Andy slump forward, panting. Malbonte leaned down slightly, his voice silk over steel. "Don't ever talk to me that way again, puppy."
Malbonte's eyes shifted to Vicky, who sat quietly, her face pale. She hadn't spoken a word throughout the exchange. His voice softened, but the intensity in his gaze remained.
"What about you?" he asked. "Have you changed your mind about me?"
"Yes," she replied.
"For better or worse?" His words hung in the air, heavy with tension. This was the moment of truth. Was she ready to see him for who he was now, or was she determined to mourn his former self forever?
"For better," she replied.
Her words pleased him more than he cared to admit. He made a great effort to tamp down his satisfaction and keep it from showing.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said simply.
But before Malbonte could continue, Dino cut in loudly, "No one will follow you."
Malbonte's head tilted, his expression unchanging. "Did you decide that?" His voice was calm, almost indifferent—an icy authority that only made Dino's defiance burn hotter.
"Yes. I did," Dino shot back, his scowl deepening.
"Son, be quiet…" Fencio interjected, frustration and unease lacing his words.
Dino's head snapped toward him. "Don't say words that mean nothing to you!" He spat the words with venom, his anger shifting from Malbonte to his father.
Malbonte stepped aside as the father and son locked metaphorical horns. Fencio had been harboring a hope that Dino would join their side. Malbonte had entertained no such illusions. A single glance at the younger angel had told him everything: Dino was too rigid, too angry, and far too consumed by his resentment of his father to ever align with them.
"You don't know anything about what I went through!" Fencio's voice rose, his composure breaking.
Dino scoffed, his lips curling in disdain. "You fell in love with a woman. But the world shouldn't pay for your romantic failures."
Fencio's face darkened, raw tension sparkling between father and son. They stood as opposing forces—one embittered by past failures, the other burning with righteous indignation. Malbonte made no move to intervene. This wasn't his battle, and watching Fencio unravel only served his purposes.
"I made this woman!" Fencio's voice cracked with emotion. He paced back-and-forth as if his fury couldn't be contained in stillness. His fists were clenched, his movements sharp and erratic. "I built her up! I introduced her to Crowley, persuading him to become her mentor. I introduced her to the elite. An Unclaimed! Everyone laughed at me!"
Malbonte observed the captives, noting their shifting expressions. Dino's scowl darkened into something bordering on revulsion. Lucifer didn't bother to hide his disgust. Mimi kept her gaze lowered, lips pressed into a thin line. Vicky, who had been leaning forward to listen, began to shift in her seat, her brows narrowing in anger. After all, Fencio was ranting about her mother.
"She knew that I loved her!" Fencio shouted, the veins in his neck straining with the force of his words. "I was supposed to be sent on a mission where time stood still. It would've been a year for me, but a lifetime for Rebecca. She would've graduated from the Academy and moved on with her life. I would've lost her!"
His pacing stopped abruptly, and he turned to face the group, his face flushed, his eyes wild.
"I told her—oh Shepha, I was honest with her! She knew! She understood everything!" Fencio's voice cracked again, and he ran a shaking hand through his hair. "And she was silent. Cruelly, mercilessly indifferent to the fact that I'd take her silence as a yes."
Dino's expression had hardened into a mask of icy disdain. Even Zigza, who thrived on chaos, squirmed on his perch, his grin faltering as Fencio's tirade continued.
"And I gave up everything!" Fencio roared, his voice vibrating with emotion as his fury reached its peak. "Afraid of losing her, I confessed my sin to the Citadel Council. And she…" His face twisted, his voice dropping into a bitter hiss. "She rejected me."
"You're a coward," Vicky spat.
Malbonte's eyes flicked toward her. Her expression had darkened into a thundercloud, her hands were balled into fists.
"Me?!" Fencio's stupefied reaction might have been comical under different circumstances. But did the angel really expect Vicky to take his vitriol against her mother silently?
"Yes, you!" Vicky retorted. "It's easier for you to put all the blame on the woman who rejected your feelings than to admit your own weakness in the face of life's hardships. You were insecure and tried to trap my mom. You wanted her to give up on her goals and ambitions, all the while pretending that you were supporting her dreams. You wanted to make her feel indebted, responsible for your feelings." She paused for emphasis. "But here's the truth—you paid the price because you chose to play that game. She didn't have to pay for your emotions. Sacrifice without loss is just a transaction. A deal. Don't you get it?"
Fencio's jaw dropped. Vicky's words had stripped him bare, exposing his pathetic self-justifications for what they were. Malbonte's dark eyes flickered briefly with something like admiration.
Fencio's voice cracked as he lashed back, a cry of despair escaping him. "She forced me! She had no compassion for me. She laughed at my fall."
Vicky laughed scornfully, cutting him off with biting contempt. "You're so pathetic, Fencio," she sneered. "Mom did the right thing when she showed you your place…in the doghouse."
She shot out the words like poisoned arrows, each one striking the bullseye.
Fencio's face reddened and his body trembled with rage. His expression twisted into something raw and unhinged.
"I may be pathetic, but I'm here!" he snarled, his voice rising with manic intensity. "I'm strong now. Powerful. All roads are open to me! While your precious Sammy and your mother's almost-lover? They're gone. They'll never know the real joy of immortality."
Vicky recoiled. Malbonte caught the grief that flashed in her eyes—sharp, visceral, and unguarded.
Fencio saw it too, and he savored it. His expression twisted with cruel satisfaction. He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a venomous hiss.
"Now it's my turn to be selfish, to be ruthless. My turn to walk on heads. I laughed at Sammy's body and at Winchesto's severed head! I'll kill you too," he hissed. "And when I do, I'll drag your mother to her knees before me, where she belongs!"
"Enough!" Malbonte's voice thundered over the courtyard, his disgust and anger finally boiling over. "It seems you can only savor your triumph in front of one particular spectator, and she's not here. So spare us your pretentious, bilious speeches. They bore me."
Fencio's chest heaved as he turned to Malbonte, his lips curling into a snarl. "I'll be satisfied only when I take the post you promised."
Malbonte's gaze narrowed, his voice turning as icy as frost. "You don't care about the post. But you'll get it."
Fencio's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might push the issue further. But under Malbonte's steely glare, the fight drained from him. His shoulders stiffened, then slumped as he finally relented, sinking back into his seat with a barely restrained scowl.
Whoosh!
Malbonte whipped around at the sound. Andy had somehow freed himself from the ropes and spread his wings. In one fluid motion, he kicked the bonfire, sending burning logs crashing toward Malbonte.
"Aaah!" Malbonte recoiled, more from the sheer unexpectedness of the attack than the searing pain.
The momentary distraction was all the others needed. In a blur of movement, Mimi, Lucifer, and Dino sprang into action, ripping free of their restraints. Dino and Lucifer looped the very ropes that had bound them around Malbonte, tightening them as they circled him.
"Fly, Vicky!" Dino shouted.
"What about Fyr?" she called, her wings unfurling instinctively.
Dino shot her a fierce look. "I'll get him. Just fly!" He pushed her toward the open sky as he streaked toward the cells.
Malbonte let out a low growl and tore the ropes binding him with a single, savage jerk.
"Up! Now!" Lucifer yelled at Vicky. "He won't follow us beyond the energy dome!"
Without waiting, he and Mimi shot into the sky.
Vicky hesitated for only a heartbeat before launching herself into the sky.
"Not so fast," Malbonte hissed, seizing her wings mid-ascent.
"No!" Vicky screamed, thrashing in vain against his iron grip like a helpless bird.
With a savage twist, Malbonte ripped her wings from her back.
Her anguished cry pierced the night. She plummeted like a wounded bird, crashing hard against the ground. For several agonizing moments, she remained on all fours, trembling, her breath ragged as warm blood trickled down her back.
"Vicky, no!" someone shouted from above.
Malbonte stood motionless, watching as she struggled upright.
"I tore off your wings," he said sullenly. "Let this be a lesson."
He expected despair, anger, even fear. Instead, Malbonte watched with rising interest as her expression morphed into raging, blazing determination. She inhaled deeply and screamed.
The sound tore through the air, raw and painful, as new wings erupted from her back, feathers lengthening and fluttering as they bloomed like unfurling petals.
Malbonte's breath caught.
A thrill of admiration shot through him.
Her new wings were magnificent—rich, lustrous, and powerful, perfectly matching the fire raging within her. She flexed them experimentally, the edges of the dark feathers glinting like gems in the firelight.
"Don't follow me," Vicky commanded, her fury outweighing her fear.
"I won't," Malbonte replied, equally angry at her decision to leave, though his anger wasn't untinged by other emotions. He narrowed his eyes. "Do you remember my promise?"
"Will you be my enemy now?" she challenged.
He nodded, his expression grim. "You can fly away. I'll give you a fifteen-second head start."
With a single powerful beat, she launched herself into the air.
"One… two…" Malbonte began the countdown, his voice ominously measuring out the time.
She ascended quickly, though her movements were unsteady, her raw back muscles clearly struggling against the pain.
"Six… seven…"
Despite the agony etched in every wing-beat, she pushed forward, gaining altitude.
"Ten… eleven…"
As she neared the edge of the protective dome, Vicky turned and looked back at him once.
Malbonte stood unmoving, his gaze locked onto her. His soldiers gathered behind him, awaiting his command.
Dino reached her, the seadragon gliding beside him.
"FIFTEEN."
Vicky burst through the protective dome.
Malbonte turned to Safrai. "Follow them. Give them a fright, but let them escape."
Safrai hesitated, clearly surprised, but nodded. With a sharp gesture, he signaled his battalion, and they took off in pursuit.
Malbonte stood motionless for a long moment, staring at the sky. Slowly, he turned and walked back to his chambers, his footsteps echoing in the silence left by the departing soldiers. The adrenaline rush of the encounter had drained away, leaving a void in its wake.
She had gone—flown beyond his reach. Chosen to leave him, chosen her friends over him.
Or had she? Had it truly been a choice, or had she simply been swept away by their desperation, carried along in the tide of their loyalty?
Tearing off her wings had been instinctive—a display of power, a reminder to his enemies of his ruthlessness. Yet, he hadn't stopped her from flying away. He had let her go. And now, the weight of that decision sat uneasily in his chest.
His power pulsed within her, adapting, settling, becoming hers while still tethered to him. He could feel the bond stretched thin between them, humming like a taut bowstring. She had left—but she had taken a part of him with her. That knowledge left him with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and unease.
He hadn't wanted her chained again, wilting in a cell. The sight of her slumped and fevered, her body wracked with tremors as she battled the sheer force of his energy, had been unbearable. So he had carried her to his chambers, to his very bed, and watched over her through the worst of it.
To break her spirit would be to erase the very things that drew him to her—her strength, her defiance, her resilience.
As he reached his chambers, he hesitated, his hand pressing against the doorframe. A single question lingered in the back of his mind: had he let her go for her sake, or to protect himself from his growing feelings for her?
With a sigh, he stepped inside. The emptiness of the room pressed against him, suffocating in its finality. She had spent only a single night here, yet the space felt irrevocably altered by her absence.
And just at that moment, when his defenses were at their weakest, Shephamalum's whispers slithered into his mind and latched on with grappling hooks.
Malbonte braced himself.
He was in for a long night.