The Thal'Gorin fortress was built from shadow-stone, a dark material with regeneration properties.

The war room where Nyx'ira had gathered the elite guards was deep in the fortress's heart, lit only by the faint purple glow of enchanted crystals embedded in the walls.

Twelve guards stood in a semicircle before her. Each one was a veteran, scarred and hardened by four years of constant warfare.

Their void-like eyes watched their new War Chief with expressions ranging from respect to barely concealed skepticism.

Nyx'ira stood tall despite the weight of Vok'thar's death pressing down on her shoulders.

The shadow-touched blade at her hip felt heavier than it should, as if the weapon itself mourned its previous master.

She'd spent the entire journey back from the titan's cavern trying to figure out what to say, how to explain what had happened.

In the end, she settled on the truth. Or at least as much truth as she dared speak.

"Vok'thar is dead," she said simply, her voice carrying through the war room with quiet authority. "The Soul Warden killed him. Ripped his hearts from his chest and threw him into a cavern like garbage."

The guards erupted in outrage. Shadows writhed around them as their emotions manifested physically, darkening the room further.

Weapons were half-drawn, and more than one guard looked ready to storm out and hunt this Soul Warden down immediately.

"Silence!" Nyx'ira's voice cracked like a whip, and the guards fell quiet, though their fury remained palpable.

"Before you all charge off to your deaths, there are things you need to understand."

She began to pace, her movements controlled but tense. "The war we've been fighting for four years? It was a lie from the beginning. Pho, our supplier, our ally, he orchestrated the entire thing. The gift that humiliated Vok'thar was sabotaged deliberately. The Aethrium deposits we've been dying for are nothing compared to what Pho has been mining beneath the valley this entire time."

One of the guards, a massive demon named Krath whose shadows were permanently stained with the blood of his enemies, stepped forward.

His voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You're saying we've been killing Aurion for nothing? That our brothers died for a profit?"

"Yes," Nyx'ira said flatly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

The silence that followed was murderous.

These were demons who had lost friends, family, comrades-in-arms in this war.

Learning it had all been manipulation, that their sacrifices had been for nothing, was almost worse than if they'd simply lost the war outright.

"There's a dying titan beneath the mountain," Nyx'ira continued, deciding to lay all the cards on the table.

"An actual titan from the primordial age. That's why the Aethrium grows so richly here. Pho found it, built his operation around it, and started a war to keep us from discovering his secret."

Another guard, a lithe female demon named Zyx'ra spoke up. Her voice was as sharp as breaking ice. "And this Soul Warden? He discovered all of this?"

"He did," Nyx'ira confirmed. "And more. He claims to be blessed by Dreknar the Black Flame. Claims our god commanded him to kill Vok'thar because the War Chief's prayers were... annoying."

That statement was so absurd, so casually blasphemous, that several guards actually laughed, bitter, disbelieving sounds that held no humor.

"Our god," Krath said slowly, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, "ordered our War Chief killed because he prayed too much?"

"That's what the Soul Warden claims," Nyx'ira said. "Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant. What matters is that he has power. Enough power to kill Vok'thar with his bare hands. Enough power to force the Aurion into submission. And enough power to do the same to us if we resist."

She pulled a stack of glowing contracts from her dimensional storage, copies of the same documents the Aurion were signing. The magical runes pulsed with ominous light as she set them on the war room's central table.

"He wants every demon in our territory to sign these," Nyx'ira said. "Blood contracts that bind us to his service. They're... extensive. Binding. Once signed, you can't break them without severe consequences."

The guards moved closer, examining the contracts with growing horror. Their shadows coiled defensively as they read the terms, as they understood exactly what signing would mean.

"This is slavery," Zyx'ra hissed, her voice sharp as breaking ice. "We'd be giving up everything our clan stands for. Our independence, our pride, our freedom, all of it gone with a signature."

"I know," Nyx'ira said quietly.

"Then why are we even considering this?" Krath demanded, his massive fists clenching. "Why not fight? Die with honor rather than live as slaves?"

Nyx'ira met his gaze steadily. "Because the Soul Warden has promised something in return. Peace. An end to the war. The death of Pho, who manipulated us all. And..." She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. "Because he says he's reasonable. That we'll retain autonomy in how we govern our people. That we won't be forced to commit atrocities."

"You believe him?" another guard asked incredulously.

"I don't know what I believe," Nyx'ira admitted. "But I know what the alternative is. We refuse, he kills us all, and finds someone else to lead the Thal'Gorin. Someone who will do exactly what he wants without question. At least this way, we retain some measure of control."

The guards exchanged glances, silent conversations happening through shadow-speak, a form of communication unique to their clan. Finally, Krath spoke for all of them.

"What are your orders, War Chief?"

Nyx'ira took a deep breath. This was it, the moment where she either followed Jack's command or tried to resist.

And despite every instinct screaming at her to fight, to refuse, to maintain their clan's independence at any cost, she knew what she had to do.

Except... she didn't want to. The idea of commanding her people to sign away their freedom made her sick to her stomach.

'I won't force them,' she thought, making the decision at that moment. 'I'll tell them the truth and let them choose. Even if it costs me.'

"I will not force anyone to sign the contracts," Nyx'ira said, her voice steady despite the fear building in her chest.

She felt it immediately, a slight constriction around her throat, like an invisible hand beginning to close. The magical binding from her own contract, responding to her defiance.

But she pushed through it. "You are warriors of the Thal'Gorin. You have earned the right to make your own choices. I will present the contracts and explain what they mean. But the decision to sign is yours alone."

Krath's expression shifted to something like respect. "Thank you, War Chief. That means…"

The constriction around Nyx'ira's throat tightened violently. She gasped, her hands flying to her neck as the invisible pressure increased.

It felt like a noose pulling tighter, cutting off her air, crushing her windpipe. Her shadows writhed wildly, trying to defend against an enemy they couldn't touch.

"War Chief!" Zyx'ra lunged forward, but there was nothing she could do. This wasn't a physical attack. This was the contract itself, punishing Nyx'ira for her defiance.

Then the pain spread to her eyes.

It started as a burning sensation, like someone had splashed acid across her face.

Nyx'ira's void-like eyes widened in agony as blood began to leak from the corners, tears tinged red, weeping from her eyes like crimson waterfalls.

She tried to speak, tried to tell the guards to sign the contracts, tried to fulfill Jack's command before the punishment killed her.

But her throat was too constricted. No words came out, only a strangled, choking sound that made the assembled guards step back in horror.

"What's happening?" Krath demanded, looking around wildly as if searching for an attacker. "Who's doing this?"

Nyx'ira collapsed to her knees, still clawing at her throat.

The blood from her eyes ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her armor and the stone floor.

The pain was indescribable, like her eyes were being slowly crushed in an invisible grip while her throat was destroyed.

'Please,' she thought desperately, unable to even form words internally anymore. 'Please just let me tell them. Let me speak!'

But the contract was merciless. It didn't care about her intentions or her reasoning. She had tried to give her people a choice when Jack's command had been clear, every demon would sign.

Her attempt to circumvent that order, even slightly, was being punished without mercy.

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