The Hollow Keep rose from black cliffs like a wound in the world—ancient, cruel, and soaked in centuries of silence. Its towers clawed at the clouds. Its gates groaned open only for death.
Aria and Elias stood before it.
"I count four sentries," Elias whispered, eyes scanning the battlements. "No humans among them."
"I'm going in," Aria said. "Alone."
"You're insane."
"They won't expect it. They'll expect you."
Elias looked at her—really looked at her. Gone was the girl who stumbled into a small town bookstore. This was someone else now. Someone willing to fight an empire of monsters for a single soul.
He nodded. "If I don't see you again—"
"You will."
She squeezed his hand once and walked into the storm.
❖
Inside the Keep, Dorian knelt in chains forged from celestial iron—too strong even for his kind. He was weak from blood fasting, and his mind echoed with the words of the Council.
"You were the best of us," the Archlord sneered. "Clean. Controlled. Untouched by mortal stain."
"I was empty," Dorian said.
"Then let us cleanse you completely. We will execute her at dawn. Then, your memories will be stripped. You will forget her name, her face, her love."
"No," Dorian growled, thrashing against the chains.
But they held.
"You will beg to forget, Blackthorn," the Archlord hissed.
❖
Aria crept through the corridors like smoke, guided only by instinct—and something stronger: the pull of Dorian's presence. She could feel it now, deep in her bones. Love had bound them. Love was leading her.
She reached the chamber where he was held—and froze.
Two Council guards stood outside. Unmoving. Pale as statues.
Aria took a breath, gripped her blade, and stepped forward.
The first never saw her. She slit his throat from behind.
The second lunged—but Elias came from the shadows, driving a stake through its chest.
"I couldn't let you have all the fun," he said with a smirk.
Together, they pushed open the door.
Dorian looked up.
"Aria," he whispered, stunned.
She ran to him and fell to her knees, cupping his face. "I found you."
"You shouldn't be here."
"I'm exactly where I should be."
Behind them, a low hiss filled the chamber.
The Archlord.
He descended like smoke in a cloak of midnight.
"You dare defy us?" he boomed. "For a human?"
Dorian stood—barely—but with Aria at his side, he seemed to gain strength.
"She's not just a human," he said. "She's my reason."
The Archlord raised a hand—and spears of shadow erupted from the walls. Elias threw himself into the fight, dueling darkness with silver.
Aria gripped Dorian's hand. "You have to choose. Now."
His eyes met hers—and he knew what he had to do.
With the last of his strength, Dorian bit into his own wrist and pressed it to Aria's lips.
"Drink," he said.
"What?"
"My blood. It'll bind us. Strengthen you. You'll survive what's coming."
"But I'll become—"
"No," he whispered. "You'll be more."
She hesitated—then drank.
The change was immediate. Fire in her veins. Sight sharper. Heart louder. The shadows recoiled from her.
She turned to the Archlord.
"You want a war?" she said.
"I want silence."
"Then come take it."
She and Dorian fought as one—blood and blade, fire and fury.
And when the Archlord fell, it was not to a stake or sword…
…but to love.
Because it had made them dangerous.
Not weak.