"Yes," Urillia said calmly.
"The Royal Covenant—the Phoenix Pact."
The lavender field darkened, its colors deepening as if the world itself listened.
"The Phoenix Pact is an absolute contract," Urillia continued, her voice steady, almost detached. "In exchange for immense power—power capable of challenging demons, apostles, even pillars—you will be bound to the royal bloodline of Azel. Your aura, your will, your very existence will be tied to the Empire."
She turned, golden eyes piercing.
"You will fight when commanded. You will move where ordered. You will never raise your blade against the royal family, nor act against its interests. In return, you will be granted strength that rivals legends."
Amira didn't hesitate.
"I refuse."
The word rang sharply across the field.
Urillia blinked once.
"I have no intention of serving the royal family," Amira continued, her voice firm. "I have no intention of being bound. Not to you. Not to the Empire. Not to anyone."
She clenched her fists.
"I won't trade my freedom for power."
For a moment, Urillia simply stared at her.
Then—
"Then you are willing to let your friends die?"
The words fell like a blade.
Amira's breath hitched.
"At this rate," Urillia went on coldly, "Talagra will fall. The poison will spread unchecked. The Noctyrix will awaken. Kulmar will complete his ritual. And every soul in this city—men, women, children—will perish."
Amira stepped back.
"Then... then we find another way," she said desperately. "If we work together—if all of us—"
Urillia cut her off instantly.
"What way?"
The lavender field cracked beneath her feet.
"There is no path forward without the Phoenix Pact," Urillia said flatly. "Denias' aura is gone—I can no longer sense him. That means he is either dead... or worse."
Her gaze hardened.
"You three are weak against Kulmar Tote, you are nothing more than resistance that delays the inevitable."
She spread her hands.
"At my current rank, even I cannot harm him. The ritual has begun. The garden's seal is broken. There is no strategy left. No clever maneuver. No heroic sacrifice that saves everyone."
She stepped closer to Amira, her golden eyes burning.
"I don't care about your pride. I don't care about your ideals. And I certainly don't care about your desire for freedom."
Her voice dropped to a ruthless whisper.
"I will trade your freedom to save a million lives without hesitation."
Then she asked the question that struck deepest of all:
"Are you willing to let an entire city die—children choking on poison, families torn apart by shadows—just to preserve your selfish sense of choice?"
Silence swallowed the lavender field.
Amira trembled—not from fear, but from fury and despair.
Selfish.
Was it selfish... to want to choose her own fate?
She saw Leon's reckless grin.
Asuma's quiet determination.
The way Asuma had broken when Fionalla died.
The people collapsing in the streets.
The screams.
The shadows.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"...You're cruel," Amira whispered.
Urillia did not deny it.
"I am a ruler," she replied. "Cruelty is a luxury I cannot afford to avoid."
The lavender flowers bent beneath an unseen wind.
"So choose," Urillia said softly.
"Your freedom... or their lives."
It was obvious what the princess was saying.
Amira understood it painfully well.
Her family had always been bound to the royal family—through bloodlines, wealth, influence, and obligation. The Balars prospered because the Empire allowed them to, and in return, the Empire never truly let them go. From childhood, Amira had sworn she would be different. She would not be another name carved into a ledger of loyal servants. She would live by her own will.
Yet here she stood.
Faced with the same invisible chains.
Is this the curse of my family? she wondered bitterly.
That no matter how far we run, the Empire always pulls us back?
She exhaled slowly.
"...Can I propose a deal?" Amira asked.
Urillia's golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"What?"
Amira straightened, forcing herself to meet the princess's gaze.
"I will form the pact," she said clearly. "But only under one condition."
The lavender field stilled.
"I remain by Asuma's and Leon's side," Amira continued. "Not as your weapon. Not as your knight. I fight with them first. If you agree to that, then I'll accept the Phoenix Pact."
Urillia studied her—truly studied her—for the first time.
Then she nodded.
"That is acceptable," Urillia replied. "Your pact will only activate when I am in danger... or when I summon you to my side. The covenant will remain until either you die—or I do."
Amira swallowed.
"...Okay," she said. "What do I need to do?"
Urillia didn't answer.
Instead, she stepped forward.
Her hand pressed firmly against Amira's chest.
In an instant, the world exploded.
A torrent of immense, overwhelming aura surged through Amira's body, tearing through her circuits like wildfire through dry grass. Her breath caught as her vision blurred, golden flames bursting behind her eyes.
A massive magical seal unfurled across her arm—intricate, ancient, alive—its design resembling a burning phoenix entwined with royal sigils. The mark burned, not with pain, but with unbearable intensity.
The process lasted only seconds.
But it felt eternal.
Urillia withdrew her hand.
"The power I granted you will last fifteen minutes," she said calmly. "If you exceed that limit, your body will begin to collapse. Your aura circuits will rupture. You will be left at death's door."
Amira staggered, barely steadying herself.
"This restriction applies to me as well," Urillia continued. "Because I already bear two pacts, any excessive use of my aura will damage me in the same way."
She looked away slightly.
"The Phoenix Pact is dangerous. Even cursed. It has claimed members of my family before. But it is also our strongest protection."
Amira clenched her fists.
Power surged through her veins—raw, intoxicating, exhilarating. Magic unlike anything she had ever felt before. It felt like ecstasy... like standing in the heart of a blazing sun.
And yet—
It came with chains.
Invisible ones.
Her freedom—no longer entirely her own.
I chose this, Amira reminded herself fiercely.
For them. For the city. For the lives I couldn't ignore.
She lifted her head, lightning crackling faintly around her.
"I won't waste it," she said.
Urillia allowed herself a thin smile.