I have reached Felisia, overcoming Veyl, and grabbed her in my arms, making sure we'll reach the summit before the Elf.

I push my wings for everything they have left, the air cold and thin at this height, the trees dropping away beneath us as I climb. Felisia's arms clamp around my neck and chest, her grip tight enough to cut off my breath. She buries her face against my shoulder, and for a moment, all I hear is the rush of wind and the frantic thump of both our hearts. I scan the sky behind us. Veyl is barely a hundred paces back, lightning spitting from his palms as he vaults from stone to branch, closing the distance with every stride.

I don't let myself look down. I know what happens if I stop now. The exhaustion in my body is like molten lead, and my mana feels hollow, barely enough to keep my wings burning. I grit my teeth and force them higher, but the energy drains away with every beat. We're not going to make it like this. Even if we dip down to face Veyl, even if I manage to keep us aloft for another minute, I'm risking everything. If I run out, Veyl can snatch Felisia, toss me off the mountain, and carry Adrienne to the throne himself. If that happens, everything I've fought for dies on this peak.

I glance at Felisia, feeling my pulse hammer in my throat.

"I'm running out of mana," I shout above the wind. "I can't keep us up much longer."

Felisia's arms tighten. She doesn't look at me at first. I hear her take a slow breath, steadying herself.

"I'll help," she says, voice muffled.

"How?" I say, trying not to sound desperate as the mana in my core flickers low. My Infernal Wings of Ash are already sputtering. If they cut out now, we both fall.

Felisia raises her head, green eyes bright with determination.

"Use the Skill on me. The one that heals you."

"Dark Lattice? Are you insane?" I bark, spinning higher to keep clear of Veyl's lightning, but every turn bleeds away more of my reserves.

"It's our only chance," she says. Her voice is quiet but certain. She pulls back just far enough to look me in the eye, face pale but unyielding. "Do it."

I curse under my breath.

"Fuck."

She's right. There's no other way.

I summon the Grimoire, biting down on the last thread of hesitation, and will the Dark Lattice into existence. A shadowy pattern crawls up my arms and down into Felisia. Instantly, power rushes through me—a flood of raw, unfiltered mana, colder than winter but burning at the same time. My body jolts, veins swelling, energy surging back to full.

Veyl is not far behind, closing the gap with every leap. He flings a fork of lightning that nearly brushes my heel. I shoot higher, pulling even harder on the lattice that links Felisia and me.

Her face goes paler, but she holds my gaze, shaking her head when I hesitate.

"Don't stop. Keep going."

I want to argue. I want to tell her it's enough, that I can't risk her health just for a few more meters of flight. But I can see the certainty in her eyes, the same stubbornness I've seen in battle and in training. If I slow now, we both lose.

The world narrows to the sound of her breathing and the beat of my wings.

I remember the day I met Felisia, back when she was a brat, a real pain, always mouthing off, always wishing someone would come and knock me into the dirt.

She never missed a chance to remind me I was a peasant.

I can't even pin down when she changed, when she stopped wishing for my failure and started fighting at my side instead. Maybe she didn't change. Maybe it was always there, buried under anger and fear, waiting for someone to draw it out.

Veyl's lightning fizzles as we rise above the trees. He tries to keep pace, hurling bolts that fall short as we climb higher and higher, the mountain air thinning.

The power from Felisia is like a lifeline, but I can feel her growing lighter in my arms, her skin turning cold. I almost stop, but then she grabs the back of my neck, fingers digging into my skin, and meets my gaze with a glare as fierce as I've ever seen.

"Don't stop," she says, teeth clenched. "Keep going. Don't you dare let me down now."

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I nod, fighting a wave of emotion.

The summit is so close I can taste the mana in the air.

* * *

On the noble cliff, the gallery bursts into whispers and coos, all eyes on Felisia and me. There's none of the earlier scorn or disbelief; this is the sound of fascination, of romance whispered behind fans.

"Look at them—how close those two are."

"They fight like a pair of lovers."

A third noble sighs, "I wonder if we're witnessing the blooming of a great love story."

Lord Clearwater clears his throat, shooting a glare at the gossips, but even he looks torn between worry and pride. His lips twitch with something like a smile before he masks it.

Guildmaster Dorn scowls.

"Jacob is a peasant. He could never marry a noble. Not in Clearwater. This is just an infatuation that'll end badly for her."

Sir Renquell gives him a flat look.

"You don't understand the world you live in. Among Knights, power is what matters. Strong Knights stand above the nobility. Jacob Cloud is going to reach heights you could never imagine. He's already outclassed half the titled families in the city."

Guildmaster Dorn blusters, but nobody listens.

The cliff's attention stays locked on our ascent.

* * *

The summit looms ahead, wreathed in mist, crowned by a black throne of polished stone that seems to drink in the sunlight. The moment my feet hit the peak, I stagger. Felisia is barely conscious now, her grip slackening. I break the link, severing the Dark Lattice before it drains her dry, and lower her gently onto the throne.

Her body slumps, breath shallow but steady. I brush the hair from her face and study the throne for the first time—a strange, unsettling shape, cold to the touch, carved with runes that throb with a red-black glow.

The moment Felisia's body touches the throne, I feel a change in the air. It thickens, saturated with mana, the energy crackling with more force than I've ever felt. The stone hums, and I see the mana gathering around Felisia, swirling into her chest and limbs.

King Baalrek's voice cuts through my daze.

That's an Infernal relic.

Are you for real? I ask, half-smiling, half-panicking.

Why would I lie to a human kid?

Because you're an Infernal.

Fair point, Baalrek says. But I'm not lying. It's a minor relic, but it's meant to take someone who just underwent great trials and enhance one or more of their Skills. It's a catalyst, a trigger for Skill evolutions.

That sounds powerful, I reply, watching Felisia's face for any sign of distress.

It was barely scratching the surface of our power, Baalrek answers, voice soft with memory.

Can I ask…what happened to the Infernals?

No answer comes. The silence is as heavy as the stone under my hand.

Suddenly, the air thickens further. Mana pours into Felisia faster and faster, far beyond what any Skill evolution should require. The throne's runes flare, and I feel the bracelet on my wrist start to tighten, digging into my skin with a slow, relentless pressure.

Baalrek's tone changes, urgency flooding his words.

Something's wrong. The relic isn't supposed to draw this much mana for a Human.

It's spiraling out of control.

This girl's about to die.

* * *

Lord Clearwater stands, panic in his eyes as he watches the throne blaze with light. Even the other nobles sense the danger, shuffling to the edge, craning for a better look.

"That throne…is that the same one that gave you your boon?" a noble asks.

Clearwater nods, voice tight.

"Yes, but this is different. I only received one Skill's evolution—nothing like this."

On the arena mirrors, the image flickers.

A few Knights shift, ready to intervene if the worst happens.

* * *

Inside, Felisia's eyes roll back, and her breath goes ragged. The throne hums, drawing energy from the very peak. Baalrek shouts in my mind.

You need to act now! Touch the throne—your presence, as someone with Infernal legacy, has triggered the real effect. If you don't intervene, the girl dies. If you try to pull her away, the backlash will kill her on the spot. You have to help her absorb the energy or she won't survive.

I don't hesitate. I press my palm against the cold stone. Instantly, a torrent of mana floods my veins, fire and darkness mingling, threatening to tear my soul apart.

The pain explodes in my head, a white-hot agony that almost knocks me flat.

Do it! Baalrek urges. Channel the energy. Guide it. You have to take the overflow. Share the burden, or both of you will be burned out.

I grit my teeth, sweat pouring down my face. I pour my will into the connection, drawing mana away from Felisia and into myself. The power is too much, but I force it to circulate, following the paths the Grimoire opens in my mind. Every second is a fight. My skin burns. My vision pulses with shadow and flame.

Felisia starts to breathe easier. Color returns to her face, and the lines of pain around her eyes soften. I realize that something else is changing deep inside my chest. The mana that pours into me begins to resonate, echoing through the channels carved by every hardship I've faced. I feel a new Skill stirring, something massive and wild, a synthesis of all I've survived.

I don't let go.

I refuse to let the power slip, even as my vision dims at the edges.

The throne's runes blaze, the whole peak crackling with energy. The air tastes of ash and metal. I lock my jaw and keep drawing the power, willing myself not to fall, not to fail—not with Felisia depending on me, not with the world watching from below.

And deep inside me, something ancient finally wakes up.

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