Asier managed to infiltrate the castle, moving through the shadows with almost ghostlike precision. Every movement was calculated, yet he could not ignore the deafening sound of his own heart pounding violently in his chest—a mix of adrenaline and anxiety that threatened to betray him at any moment. The dark, narrow corridors seemed to stretch endlessly before him, as if the castle itself were trying to devour him. His thoughts were clouded, trapped in a whirlwind of emotions he could barely keep under control. Each step brought him closer to the dungeons, but with every meter traveled, the weight pressing against his chest grew heavier. Uncertainty tormented him like a sharpened blade: what had become of Amara? Was she safe, or had she fallen into the hands of those trying to stop them? He could not afford to lose her now—not after everything they had endured and sacrificed together to reach this point.

  The weight of his mission crushed him more than any armor ever could. Finding Amara was not just an objective; it was a necessity that pierced his very being like a sword through flesh. Memories of their last encounter haunted him: the silent promise to protect one another, the determination and love in Amara’s eyes, the moment their hands had intertwined as if they were the only anchor in a world falling apart.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the damp, gloomy cells of the castle. The air was thick with a penetrating stench of mold and rusted iron, a smell that clung to his skin and filled his lungs. The stone walls were coated with a thin layer of moisture that reflected the flickering flames of the torches mounted along them. The light was weak, insufficient to dispel the oppressive darkness surrounding him. His eyes darted frantically from cell to cell, desperately searching for any sign of her. Then he saw them: Amara’s parents, locked behind the bars of a cell. Their faces reflected exhaustion and despair, their bodies bent beneath the weight of time and suffering.

  A rush of emotions flooded him at the sight of them. Relief washed over him knowing they were alive, but it was quickly overshadowed by a growing sense of unease. Amara was not with them. Something was wrong, and the lack of answers only fueled his anxiety.

  That was when his eyes noticed something he had initially overlooked: a guard lay sprawled on the floor, a deep wound carved into his neck. Blood, still fresh, pooled darkly beneath his body. The sight sent a surge of adrenaline through Asier, and a terrifying thought seized his mind—what if Amara was hurt, or in danger?

  “What happened? Where is Amara?” Asier asked, his voice tight with tension as he struggled to remain calm.

  Amara’s parents exchanged worried glances before her mother broke the heavy silence, her voice trembling.

  “She… she killed the guard to escape. She went in search of the sacred sword.”

  The words struck Asier like a hammer, knocking the breath from his lungs. He took a step back, as if the weight of the revelation had hit him physically. The idea that Amara could have killed someone was hard to process—an image that clashed violently with everything he knew about her. He remained silent, fighting to organize his thoughts and make sense of what he had just heard.

  “Why would she do something like that?” he murmured, more to himself than to them. Images of Amara—her determination and courage—blurred with the doubt and fear now gripping him. Then, like a flash of clarity, he understood. She had done it for him. To help him. To protect him. A deep wave of guilt cut through him. She was risking everything for him, and he hadn’t been there to protect her.

  “She didn’t hesitate for a second. She wanted to go back to you,” Amara’s father added, his voice carrying a mix of pride and sorrow. “But there’s something else you need to know. The sword Anwar carries is not the true sacred sword. Amara is trying to find it before he does.”

  Those words made the world seem to tilt beneath Asier’s feet. The sacred sword… His mind filled with questions as he tried to process the revelation. If what they said was true, then Amara’s mission was far more dangerous than he had imagined. But beyond the danger, he understood something deeper: she had risked everything for him, and he hadn’t been there to protect her.

  “I have to find her. I won’t let her face this alone,” he said firmly, his voice now filled with renewed determination.

  Without wasting another second, he cast one last glance at Amara’s parents before leaving the dungeons behind. Every step echoed with urgency, with the bond that tied him to her, and with his promise never to leave her alone.

  Meanwhile, Amara ran through the castle corridors, her mind working at full speed. The tension in the air was palpable, as if every shadow could conceal a new enemy. Her steps carried her toward a section of the castle where she suspected the sword might be kept. But before she could reach it, she halted at the sight of several guards stationed along the corridor. It was clear she wouldn’t get past them unnoticed.

  With a quick glance around, she spotted a door left slightly ajar and slipped inside the room. To her surprise, she came face to face with Miss Sofía, the king’s lover. The woman was curled up in a corner, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. Amara immediately realized she had an opportunity—though she knew what she was about to do was desperate.

  Grabbing a knife from a nearby table, she raised it and pressed it gently against Sofía’s neck.

  “I won’t hurt you if you cooperate,” she whispered, her voice barely concealing the guilt eating away at her inside.

  Sofía nodded quickly, too terrified to resist. Amara pushed her forward, and together they exited the room. When they reached the corridor, the guards turned instantly, alerted by the unexpected sight.

  “Stop right there!” one of them shouted, raising his weapon.

  “You’d better let me pass,” Amara replied coldly, tightening the knife against Sofía’s throat. “Unless you want the king’s lover to die right here.”

  The guards hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. Finally, they stepped back, unwilling to risk the king’s wrath over Sofía’s death. The moment they moved aside, Amara advanced quickly, knowing every second mattered.

  Asier’s image appeared in her mind like a beacon in the darkness. He was her motivation, her reason to keep going even when fear threatened to paralyze her. The mission was dangerous, yes—but she could not afford to fail. Not now.

  She knew time was against her. Her heart pounded as she moved deeper into the castle, drawing closer to her goal. She could not fail now. Asier’s image was her only motivation to keep moving forward, even when everything seemed stacked against her.

  Amara walked down the long, dark corridor leading to the chamber where, according to the information she had gathered, the sacred sword was kept. Her footsteps echoed against the stone floor, her breathing fast and uneven, as though each step carried her closer not only to her objective, but also to danger. Her mind was tense, trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts driving her forward. At her side, Sofía walked with difficulty, dragged along by Amara’s firm grip. Panic etched her expression—a reflection of the chaos consuming the castle. She trembled visibly, unable to fully grasp how she had ended up in such a desperate situation.

  Amara knew she couldn’t keep taking her along. Sofía’s presence was a risk she could no longer afford. She needed to get rid of her before continuing. Her gaze moved quickly, searching for a place where she could leave her without jeopardizing the mission. At last, she found a nearby room. Without hesitation, she flung the door open and shoved Sofía inside with more force than she had intended.

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  “Your actions have consequences, Sofía,” Amara said coldly, her voice leaving no doubt about her resolve. “Now you’re facing them. I hope you remember that.”

  Sofía didn’t respond with words. Instead, she began pounding desperately on the door, her muffled screams swallowed by the thick wood and the echoing corridor. But Amara no longer listened. Her mind was fixed on her goal. She locked the door from the outside, ensuring Sofía couldn’t escape, and without looking back, continued forward with steady steps toward her destiny.

  When she finally reached the chamber where the sacred sword was supposed to be, Amara stopped. Something was wrong. The room was empty. Its decoration was simple, except for an ornate pedestal standing at the center of the chamber. It seemed specifically designed to hold a sword, with its symmetrical shape and carefully carved details. Surrounding it, the walls were covered in ancient inscriptions radiating an aura of mystery and age. Amara frowned, trying to understand what was happening.

  She advanced slowly toward the pedestal, as if each step might trigger a hidden trap. Her eyes scanned the inscriptions, trying to decipher them. At first, the symbols appeared impossible to understand—a language lost to time. But as she focused, deciphering word by word, the pieces began to fall into place.

  Then the truth struck her like a blow: the sacred sword was not there because it needed to recharge. According to the inscriptions, its power depended on magic obtained through human sacrifice. But that wasn’t all. As she continued reading, a chill ran down her spine when she deciphered the final words. The sacrifice had already been made.

  “Who was the sacrifice?” Amara whispered, her voice filled with horror and disbelief.

  Suddenly, as if the pieces of an invisible puzzle snapped together, she understood. King Richard’s blood had been the necessary offering. Anwar, in an act of unimaginable cruelty, had murdered his own father to awaken the sacred sword. Now he was waiting for the right moment—when the blade was fully charged—to unleash its power.

  The revelation was overwhelming. Anwar’s cruelty surpassed anything Amara had imagined. His ambition knew no bounds, and the sheer scale of his plans made the air in the room feel heavy. Her heart racing, Amara hurried out, knowing she had no time to waste. The guards would soon arrive, and she needed to find a way to escape.

  Elsewhere in the castle, Asier moved quickly. Every corner he searched, every corridor he crossed, brought him closer to Amara—but also filled him with growing dread. His heart clenched in his chest as his mind imagined the dangers she might be facing alone. The sounds of the castle kept him on edge: distant footsteps, murmured voices, and the occasional clash of steel. Whenever guards crossed his path, he drew his sword without hesitation. Fury and fear drove him to fight with relentless intensity. Enemies fell one after another, yet Asier barely felt the exhaustion. His mind was focused on a single purpose: finding Amara before it was too late.

  “I have to find her. I have to protect her,” he repeated to himself like a mantra that kept him steady.

  Amara, meanwhile, ran through the corridors, her mind torn between fear and urgency. She knew she couldn’t let herself be captured. After everything she had discovered, escaping was crucial. But her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a nearby fight—the echo of clashing swords and strained grunts made her heart stop for a moment.

  She wanted to turn back, to find another route, but there was no time. The guards behind her were closing in. With no other choice, she ran toward the sound of the fight, praying she wouldn’t face an enemy she couldn’t defeat.

  When she arrived, her heart lurched. There, in the middle of a group of guards, stood Asier. His figure was unmistakable even under the dim torchlight. His dark cloak billowed with each movement, and his sword moved with lethal precision, tracing arcs of steel through the air. Despite his skill, Amara could see the exhaustion in his stance—tense shoulders, labored breathing, and a slight tremor in his hands. He had been fighting for far too long.

  Fear tightened her chest as she watched him. Before she could move, her gaze locked onto a guard creeping up behind Asier, dagger in hand, his intent unmistakable.

  “Asier, look out!” she screamed, her voice raw with desperation and urgency.

  Her cry echoed through the corridor like an alarm. Asier reacted instantly, spinning just in time to block the attack with the edge of his sword. The metallic clash rang out. Without giving the guard a chance to recover, Asier shoved him back, disarming him with a quick twist of his wrist. The dagger clattered to the floor, and with a single precise strike, Asier brought him down.

  There was no time to celebrate. The remaining guards, seeing their comrade fall, charged at him in dangerous coordination. Asier barely managed to raise his sword when the first attacked with a powerful blow aimed at his chest. He blocked it with effort, but the impact forced him back a step.

  “Asier…” Amara whispered, frozen between the urge to help and the fear of getting in the way.

  A second guard tried to exploit Asier’s imbalance, attacking from the flank. But Asier pivoted fluidly, deflecting the blow and countering with a slash that cut through the air. His blade found its mark, and the guard fell, screaming in pain.

  Still, the others didn’t stop. Three more lunged at once. One aimed a spear at Asier’s shoulder while the other two tried to surround him. Seeing the danger, Asier leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the spear tip that passed inches from his arm. Using the momentum, he spun and unleashed a horizontal strike that caught one guard in the side, sending him down with a muffled cry.

  The remaining two pressed on. One attacked from above with a heavy sword while the other went low for Asier’s leg. Calculating quickly, Asier raised his blade to block the overhead strike while stepping back to evade the low cut. With a sharp turn, he disarmed the heavy-sword guard and, taking advantage of the confusion, finished him with a clean strike.

  The last guard hesitated—but did not stop. Roaring with fury, he charged at Asier with all his strength. Asier waited until the final second before pivoting aside and driving his sword into the man’s side. The guard collapsed with a groan, his body hitting the stone floor with a dull thud before silence settled once more.

  For a moment, Asier stood still, breathing heavily. Sweat streamed down his forehead, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Then he lifted his gaze and saw Amara. Their eyes met, and in that instant, everything else faded away.

  Without thinking, he ran toward her.

  “Amara!” he cried, his voice filled with emotion, relief, and disbelief.

  But the danger wasn’t over. Seconds later, several guards appeared behind her, weapons drawn. Amara’s eyes widened in terror, but before she could react, Asier stepped in front of her.

  With renewed determination, he raised his sword again, adjusting his stance. His body was exhausted, but his mind was clear—nothing would happen to Amara.

  “Stay behind me,” he ordered firmly, never taking his eyes off the approaching enemies.

  The guards advanced in formation, circling him. Asier turned with precision, blocking an attack from the right and countering with a downward slash that struck the attacker’s arm. Another guard took advantage of the distraction and lunged toward Amara, but Asier reacted instantly, thrusting his sword forward and stopping the enemy before he could get close.

  The last guard, seeing his companions fall, hesitated—but Asier gave him no time to reconsider. With a swift movement, he advanced, disarmed him with a clean slash, and knocked him unconscious with a blow to the head.

  At last, when silence settled again, Asier lowered his sword. The echo of battle still lingered in the corridors, but there were no enemies left to face. With a heavy sigh, he let the blade fall to the floor and turned to Amara.

  Without saying a word, he pulled her into a tight embrace, as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. In that moment, nothing else mattered. He had found her, and she was safe in his arms.

  Tears filled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat. He was alive—and he had come for her. They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, letting relief wash over them. They had survived. Together.

  “I found you,” Asier whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

  At that moment, neither of them wanted to let go. Danger still lurked, but all that mattered was that they had each other. They were both relieved to be safe. After all the danger and war surrounding them, neither wanted to be separated again.