Samuel's POV
The dead wind howled across the blighted plains of the Obsidian Verge as I stood at the precipice of the Hollow Bastion. It was here—beneath the cracked moons of Oblivion, where shadows bled from the earth—that she waited.
Roselle Vasilyev.
The last ti we stood face-to-face, we swore to be enemies in this lifeti. No more truces. No more trysts. Just blood and silence between us. But now she'd summoned with a request—no, a command veiled in diplomacy: escort to Queen Nerezza.
Queen of Oblivion. Widow of Realms. The Pale Queen.
And Roselle... what business did she have with her?
The doors creaked open, massive blackened iron parting like the maw of a beast. I stepped inside the Bastion, boots clicking over ancient stone carved with sigils that pulsed faintly—like veins under skin.
She stood at the center of the chamber, bathed in the pale glow of a singular lantern hanging high above. Crimson eyes like twin suns of ruin, and hair as dark as the night I was born into.
"Samuel," Roselle said, her voice like the first chord of a funeral hymn. "You're later than I expected."
I crossed the distance slowly. "You're lucky I ca at all."
She turned to face fully, her silhouette elegant, lethal—like a dagger draped in silk. "Still nursing that grudge?"
"No," I muttered. "Just cautious. Last ti I turned my back to you, I nearly woke up with half a castle collapsing over ."
Roselle's lips curled into a smile—sharp and amused. "That was business. And you deserved it."
I stepped into the light, eyes locked with hers. "So what's this about? You want an escort? To et Nerezza? You know who she is, don't you?"
"I know exactly who she is," Roselle replied, folding her arms. "That's why I ca. And why you're the only one I trust to walk into her domain without trying to stab in the back... at least not right away."
I scoffed. "Trust. That's rich coming from you."
"You defeated her Right Wing, didn't you?" she said, tilting her head. "Vaelira Duskheart wasn't soone to take lightly."
"Crushed her," I said with no hint of arrogance. "But you still haven't answered the question: why are you here, Roselle? And what in all hells does the Queen of Darkness want with the Widow of Realms?"
There was a long silence. Her crimson eyes flickered with thought... or sothing deeper.
"I made a pact with Nerezza once," Roselle said finally. "A blood covenant. Centuries ago—in another life you never saw. She gave power when I had nothing. But now that I've ascended, now that I've claid dominion over my world... she's calling it in."
"A debt?" I said slowly.
"A reckoning," she corrected. "One I can't walk away from alone."
"And you thought dragging into it would help?" I shook my head. "You're insane."
Roselle stepped closer. "You're strong, Samuel. Maybe the only one left who hasn't lost themselves to this world's madness. You still rember who you are. What we are."
"Enemies?" I growled.
"No," she whispered, eyes narrowing. "We're monsters that survived three lifetis of betrayal and blood. And that makes us rarer than gods."
Her hand brushed mine. A spark of mory flashed between us—her lips on my throat, our blades at each other's hearts.
"You still want to kill ?" I asked.
She smiled faintly. "Not today."
I exhaled. "And if I say no?"
"Then I go alone," she said, "and the Pale Queen devours whole. You'll feel it the mont it happens. That thread between us—it'll burn to ash."
I stared at her for a long mont.
She wasn't begging. She never begged. But there was sothing raw behind her words. She wasn't just afraid—she was cornered. And Roselle Vasilyev never got cornered unless the devil herself had arrived.
I finally spoke.
"One condition. If I walk you into that Queen's court... and she tries anything, anything—I burn the realm down."
Roselle's crimson eyes glead. "Deal."
"Then let's go et your Pale Queen," I said, stepping past her.
And as the shadows swallowed us both, I couldn't help but wonder—was I marching into another war...
...or the end of all things?
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