Chapter 180: When Hope Is All You Have

Gill’s grey eyes glinted with approval as Seraphina straightened, blood still seeping from her wounded wrists but determination burning in her gaze.

"Good. Because I’m not much of a fighter." He gestured toward the door.

Seraphina nodded, already moving toward the door. "Then stay behind me. I’ll handle the guards."

They slipped through into the servant quarters—a warren of narrow corridors and small rooms that smelled of old food and unwashed bodies. Gill moved with surprising stealth for someone who claimed to be weak, his footsteps barely whispering against the stone.

They encountered the first guard at a junction. A single soldier, bored and half-asleep, leaning against the wall with his spear propped beside him.

Seraphina didn’t hesitate.

She flowed forward like water, her injured body protesting but obeying. One hand clamped over the guard’s mouth while the other—the one holding her newly acquired sword—slammed the pommel into the side of his head. He crumpled without a sound.

Gill appeared beside her, eyebrows raised. "Impressive. Even half-dead, you move like a proper knight."

Seraphina ignored the compliment, already dragging the unconscious guard into a nearby storage closet. She emerged seconds later, breathing slightly harder.

"How many more?"

Gill consulted his mental map. "Two more patrols in this section, then the courtyard." He paused, his expression turning calculating. "But my predictions might not be perfect. The demon army situation could have shifted patrol patterns. We need to be prepared for—"

A shout echoed from the corridor ahead.

Seraphina’s blood ran cold. A guard had rounded the corner, his eyes widening as he took in the scene—the unconscious soldier being hidden, the bloodied knight, the suspicious figure with glasses.

"INTRUD—"

He never finished the word.

Seraphina moved. Her Oath flared, silver-gold light blazing around her as she crossed the distance in a heartbeat. Her sword drove through the guard’s chest before he could complete his warning. He fell with a wet gasp, blood spreading across the stone.

For a moment, Seraphina stood frozen over the body, her chest heaving. The light of her Oath flickered, dimmed, then guttered out entirely. She swayed, catching herself against the wall.

Gill rushed to her side, his face pale. "That was too close. The noise might have—" He paused, listening. Silence. "...attracted no one. Lucky."

Seraphina’s voice came out thin, strained. "You said... these guards... wouldn’t be here."

Gill winced. "Every prediction has a margin of error. Don’t blame me." He studied her, noting the way she leaned against the wall, the tremor in her hands. "You’re pushing yourself too hard. That Oath of yours is draining you faster than you realize."

Seraphina pushed off from the wall, ignoring the way her vision swam. She bent down, retrieving the guard’s sword—better quality than the one she’d taken earlier—and a strip of cloth from his uniform. With practiced efficiency, she began wrapping her bleeding wrists, binding the wounds tight.

Gill watched her, his expression thoughtful. "You know," he said quietly, "you’re too bound by that Oath."

Seraphina’s hands stilled. She looked up at him, suspicion flickering in her exhausted eyes. "What do you mean?"

"An Oath is a contract," Gill explained, adjusting his glasses. "A binding between subordinate and superior. It gives power, yes, but it also limits. Stunts growth. Makes you dependent on the one you’ve sworn to." He tilted his head. "It’s an ancient concept, really. Outdated. There are better ways."

Seraphina’s brow furrowed. "But... aura and oath are the same thing, aren’t they? The power of a knight?"

Gill let out a small, almost pitying laugh. "No. No, they’re not." He stepped closer, his grey eyes intent behind those gleaming lenses. "An Oath is a leash. Aura is freedom. They feel similar because both draw on your inner strength, but the mechanism is completely different." He gestured at her. "You use your Oath, and it tires you because you’re channeling power through a contract. You’re borrowing strength, not creating it."

He reached out, pressing a finger gently against her sternum. "Aura, true aura, comes from here. From your core. It’s not borrowed—it’s yours. You cultivate it, grow it, make it part of yourself. And when you use it, it doesn’t drain you the same way because it’s not a transaction. It’s an expression."

Seraphina stared at him, her mind racing. The concept was foreign, yet something about it resonated—a truth she’d never been taught, never even considered.

"Then... the technique you mentioned earlier. Absorbing ambient aura to recover." She looked at her bound wrists. "That’s part of it?"

Gill nodded. "The first step, really. Learning to draw energy from the world around you instead of just burning through your own reserves." He shrugged. "But that’s a conversation for another time. Right now, we need to move. That guard’s body won’t stay hidden forever."

He turned and continued down the corridor, leaving Seraphina to follow or not.

Seraphina’s hands tightened into fists at her sides, Gill’s words echoing in her mind.

’You’re borrowing strength, not creating it.’

She stared at her bound wrists, at the blood already seeping through the cloth, at the hands that had just killed a man with borrowed power.

’He’s right. I’ve always felt it—like I’m reaching for something that isn’t quite mine. My Oath gives me strength, but it always leaves me empty afterward. Exhausted. Like I’ve spent something I can never get back.’

Her fingers curled tighter, nails digging into her palms.

’I’m still not strong enough.’

The ground beneath her feet trembled.

Seraphina’s head snapped up, her eyes widening as a wave of oppressive energy washed over her. The air itself seemed to curdle, the torchlight flickering and dying as if afraid to burn.

"That presence..." Seraphina’s voice came out a whisper. "The Lich. He’s here."

Gill stumbled against the wall, his face pale beneath the torchlight. His grey eyes, usually so calculating, held genuine alarm.

"This... this is unexpected. Your princess brought quite the enemy with her." He pushed his glasses up, trying to regain composure. "If that thing is here, the entire castle is compromised. We need to reconsider our escape route. Perhaps a different—"

He stopped.

Seraphina was already moving.

"Hey!" Gill’s voice rose, sharp with alarm. "Wait! Don’t be reckless! You’re in no condition to fight something like that!"

Seraphina didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Her boots pounded against the stone, carrying her toward that crushing presence with every ounce of strength her battered body possessed.

"Your princess might already be—" Gill’s voice followed her, growing fainter as she pulled away. "—this is suicide! Do you hear me?! SUICIDE!"

She heard him. She didn’t care.

’Elise.’

The name was a drumbeat in her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart. That monster was here for her princess. The Lich had finally made his move, and Elise was alone, collared, her magic suppressed.

’If he reaches her... if he takes her...’

Seraphina’s Oath blazed to life, silver-gold light erupting around her despite her exhaustion. It flickered, unstable, burning through reserves she didn’t have. But it held. It had to hold.

"I’m coming, Your Highness." The words were a prayer, a promise, a desperate hope. "Hold on."

Elsewhere, in a tower room overlooking the castle grounds...

Elise sat on a plush chaise lounge, the fabric soft beneath her fingers, the cushions yielding gently to her weight. A small table beside her held a tray of untouched food—fresh bread, cheese, fruit, a pitcher of water. The windows were barred, yes, but they let in sunlight. The door was locked and guarded, but no one had entered to harm her since they’d brought her here.

It was almost civil.

Elise’s fingers drifted to the collar around her neck—that cold, oppressive weight that silenced her magic and reminded her with every breath that she was a prisoner, not a guest. The runes pulsed faintly against her skin, a constant, mocking heartbeat.

’Sera...’ The thought was a knife in her chest. ’Where are you?’

She had tried asking the guards. The first time, they’d ignored her. The second, one had sneered and told her to "worry about herself." The third attempt earned her nothing but silence.

’She’s probably in another cell. Or...’ Elise forced the darker thoughts away. ’No. She’s alive. I’d know if she weren’t. I’d feel it.’

But the uncertainty was its own kind of torture.

’This is bad. This is really bad.’

Elise rose from the chaise, moving to the window. The bars were solid, set deep into stone that had stood for centuries. Beyond them, she could see the castle grounds—guards patrolling, servants scurrying, the distant bustle of a functioning fortress. No sign of her knight.

’If I try to escape, I’ll be caught immediately. The guards are too many, the defenses too tight. And even if I somehow got past them...’ Her hand touched the collar again. ’I have no magic. No way to fight. I’d be recaptured in minutes.’

She turned from the window, her mind churning. ’And even if I could escape... what then? I’m a princess of Melium, found breaking out of a Solarian prison. That’s not just an incident—that’s a diplomatic catastrophe. It could start a war.’

The weight of responsibility pressed down on her, heavier than any chains.

’I have to think carefully. One wrong move and people die. Not just me—innocent people. Soldiers on both sides. Maybe even Sera, if they use her as leverage.’

Elise sank back onto the chaise, her head dropping into her hands.