Chapter 5 - The second oath
The battlefield no longer groaned. But its breath clung to them still — in soot-stained armor, in blood that dried too quickly, in a silence that stretched not because of fear… but because of something unspoken.
Lilith stepped forward first. Her heels sank slightly into the scorched soil, and yet her voice did not waver.
"Master," she said, not quite softly. "Perhaps... you should form a contract with him as well."
Her eyes fell upon Valtor, still kneeling, still fierce. There was no admiration in her gaze — only sharp analysis. A tactician considering a weapon yet to be sharpened.
Valtor, though battered and burned, did not falter. Pride held his spine upright, even as pain pulled at every breath.
"That's great," he muttered, tasting blood and conviction in equal measure. "With a master like you… I'll only grow stronger. I feel it. It's already inside me."
The elf did not speak.
His gaze rested on Valtor, unmoving. But within, tension shifted. Not hesitation — no. He did not doubt his power. He doubted the implications of sharing it.
> His power rivals mine. Not quite equal… but close.
Too close. If bound, he cannot betray. But if he does…
Lilith, sensing the pause, tilted her head.
"When a contract is sealed," she said, her voice cutting through the stillness, "betrayal is no longer a possibility. It is erased."
Her words fell like law — not to convince him, but to affirm what she already believed.
Valtor raised his head. His eyes, clouded by pain, locked on the figure above him — tall, unmoved, untouched by the battle's cost.
"I acknowledge your strength," he said. Each word laid down like a vow. "Let me serve. Let me protect. Together… we'll destroy what must be destroyed."
Lilith's lips curled slightly. Not a smile — no, something more ancient. A satisfaction born not of surprise, but of calculation.
The elf's voice followed at last, calm and cold.
"Not yet."
No elaboration. Just a verdict.
"You're wounded. So am I. The bond waits. We return to the village."
Lilith blinked once. Then shifted her gaze.
"And him?"
He stepped forward without answering. Raised a hand.
A strand of pale gold emerged from his palm, neither warm nor cruel — simply resolute. It wove itself into the cracks of Valtor's body, pulling flesh together, erasing pain, binding matter.
And in that moment — as power flowed outward — something moved inward.
A voice. Not heard, but felt.
Cold. Distant. Familiar.
> "Lysanthir…"
The name passed through him like a fragment of a forgotten truth.
It did not echo in his mind — it reverberated in his soul.
He staggered internally.
Not from pain. From memory that wasn't memory.
> That name... mine? A title? A curse?
Why does it feel like I've heard it before fire… before silence… before now?
His hand trembled. Slightly.
But his face remained calm.
Not yet.
Not here.
The light faded.
Valtor rose, taller than before — fire beneath his skin, reverence in his eyes. But then, without hesitation, he knelt again.
"For now and forever," he said. "My claws. My flame. Yours."
And for the first time, the vow felt heavier than words.
It tasted of choice — not fear.
> I've followed no one, Valtor thought. Not the warlords who bled for glory, not the kings who demanded worship. But this… this feels different. Not weakness — direction.
Lilith watched the moment unfold. And for the first time since she had offered her own loyalty, she did not calculate. She felt.
> She had sworn fealty before — once. And it had left her scarred, burned, humiliated.
But this wasn't the same. This wasn't surrender to a tyrant. This was surrender to purpose.
This was real.
And he — this elf — was not just a force. He was a center.
The elf let the smallest flicker touch his lips. A movement so slight it might not have happened at all.
Lilith stepped closer, voice low.
"What shall we do next, Master?"
He looked at them — no longer strangers. No longer uncertain. They were his. That was clear now.
But with that clarity came weight.
> They bowed not from fear, not from desperation. They bowed because something in them recognized something in me.
And that, more than power, demands caution.
"The village," he said. "It rots."
His voice was quiet, but not soft.
"No roofs. Children in filth. The very air repels birds. The stench of fear has soaked into the walls."
A pause. He saw the memory of a world that once cared for him — a world now forgotten.
"We'll speak to whoever still claims control."
His hand lowered slowly to his side.
"If no one answers… we take it."
Lilith bowed her head. Her voice was steady.
"I will follow."
Valtor's clawed fist met the ground.
"I will burn whatever stands in our way."
The elf turned, cloak shifting behind him, gaze forward.
And without command, the words fell from their lips like scripture.
"You walk ahead master. we will walk behind.
"always."