Victoria had been waiting for the right night.
Weeks of pretending to be docile had lulled Damien's guards into complacency. She'd learned their routes, the shift changes, which torches guttered out first when the midnight wind rolled through the palace halls.
When the moon climbed high, she sat motionless on her cot and listened. Footsteps faded. Doors shut. The silence deepened until she could hear her own heartbeat.
It was time.
She exhaled slowly, calling to the light first—the gentle glow of the Goddess of Beauty. It softened the clank of her chains, dimmed the sound of her movements. Then, beneath it, the second pulse stirred. Heat. Fire. She coaxed it carefully, whispering inside her mind, just enough, not too much.
The shackles burned white-hot for a heartbeat, and with a faint pop the metal split. Pain seared her wrists, but freedom was worth every scar.
Victoria stood, trembling but alive, the air around her shimmering faintly from the hidden fire. She wrapped a torn blanket around her arms to hide the glow and slipped into the corridor.
Guards slept in the outer hall, helmets tilted against the wall. She stepped past them barefoot, barely breathing. Once, a soldier stirred, mumbling her name. Her heart nearly stopped. The light cloaked her again, turning her presence into a trick of shadow and candlelight.
Down marble steps, through empty kitchens, into the servants' corridor that led toward the eastern gates. Every door felt like a trap, every creak of wood like thunder.
When she reached the last door, she hesitated. Beyond it lay the courtyard, open ground, the final stretch between her and the forest.
The fire inside her flared, urging her onward.
She pushed the door open and stepped into the night.
The moon painted the world silver. The air smelled of ash and roses from the palace gardens. For a heartbeat, Victoria almost faltered; this was where Damien had once brought her to walk beneath lanterns years ago, when he'd still been kind.
But the memory only sharpened her resolve.
She ran.
The cold air bit her lungs. She darted between hedges, past statues, across the gravel road that led toward the outer wall. The goddess's light shielded her steps, and the faintest whisper of flame lent her speed.
Behind her, an alarm bell began to ring.
Damien woke instantly.
He knew that sound—had been waiting for it in his nightmares. For one stunned moment he sat motionless, staring into the dark, and then rage and terror collided in his chest.
"She's gone."
He didn't even finish dressing before he was out the door, shouting orders. The palace erupted around him—torches flaring, boots pounding, horns blaring from the towers. But even as soldiers scattered to search, he knew the truth: she was already ahead of them.
Victoria reached the wall. It was higher than she'd remembered, slick with dew. Her arms shook from exhaustion, but the fire within her steadied her grip. She placed her palms against the stone and let the heat seep out. The frost melted; the surface roughened enough for her to climb.
When she reached the top, the city stretched before her, and beyond it—the dark sweep of the forest, her freedom.
She turned once toward the palace. Torches blazed along the walls. She could almost see Damien's silhouette in the chaos, shouting, searching.
For the briefest moment, her heart ached.
Then she whispered, "Goodbye," and jumped.
She landed hard, rolled, and ran into the trees. Branches tore at her clothes, the night swallowed her whole, and still she ran—until the palace lights were nothing but distant stars behind her.
When she finally stopped, gasping, she raised her burned hands to the moonlight. The manacles were gone. The air around her shimmered with both her lights—the soft halo of beauty and the restless pulse of fire.
Free at last.
Back in the palace courtyard, Damien stood among the wreckage of the search, his sword still drawn, his breath harsh in the cold.
The guards waited for orders, but none came. He stared toward the forest, eyes burning with disbelief and something far worse—loss.
"She'll come back," he murmured. "She has to."
But the night gave no answer.