Chapter 18 – I Built a Barrier That Not Even a Mosquito Can Penetrate (For Your Safety)

【Elizabeth PoV】

Arkwright’s visit replayed in my mind like a horror movie stuck on loop.

I carried the Hero back to my chambers, his weight comfortable in my arms despite my depleted mana reserves. Every shadow in the corridor looked suspicious now, every distant footstep a potential threat. The Bishop’s words echoed in my skull, that calculated tone when he’d asked if the Hero felt restricted.

He knew something was wrong.

Maybe not the specifics, maybe not the full truth, but enough to be dangerous. Enough to come back with more questions, more scrutiny, more people trying to take my Hero away.

I laid him on the bed with exaggerated gentleness.

His golden hair fanned across the pillow, face peaceful and devastatingly vulnerable. The blue pajamas were wrinkled beyond salvation at this point but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He looked perfect, untouchable, mine.

And absolutely defenseless.

The thought hit me like ice water.

What if the Berserker hadn’t been random? What if someone had sent it specifically to test the Hero’s strength, to probe for weaknesses? What if right now, in some dark room, assassins were planning their next move based on today’s observations?

My hands clenched into fists.

No.

No one was getting close to him ever again.

I pulled the chamber doors shut and locked them with physical bolts and three different sealing spells. The heavy thunk of metal sliding into place was satisfying but nowhere near enough. Physical barriers were jokes to anyone with decent magic.

I needed real protection.

The kind that would make the gods themselves think twice before crossing the threshold.

I started with the windows.

There were four of them, massive things with stained glass depicting various saints doing heroic nonsense. Beautiful, expensive, and tactically a nightmare. Anyone with a long-range spell could blast through glass like it was tissue paper.

I planted my feet and raised both hands, pulling divine mana from reserves that were already dangerously low.

“Sanctuarium Lucis Aeternae.”

The words rolled off my tongue in the old liturgical language, each syllable burning with power. Golden light erupted from my palms, spreading across the windows like liquid metal. The spell solidified into a barrier that looked like stained glass but felt like compressed starlight.

The Golden Aegis, first layer.

It would stop anything short of a military-grade siege spell, and even then the attacker would have maybe three seconds before every holy knight in the city converged on their position.

I moved to the second window, repeating the incantation.

Sweat beaded on my forehead from the mana drain. I was running on fumes now, maybe ten percent capacity, but I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Not until every possible entry point was sealed tighter than a dragon’s treasure vault.

Third window. Fourth window.

The room glowed with residual holy magic, the air thick with power that made my teeth ache.

Still not enough.

I turned my attention to the walls themselves.

Most people assumed walls were solid, safe, end of story. Those people were idiots. Any competent mage could phase through solid matter with the right spell, walk through stone like it was fog.

I needed something that would fry them at the molecular level for trying.

My fingers traced complex patterns in the air, weaving layers of detection magic into the physical structure. Each ward was keyed specifically to my mana signature and the Hero’s, meaning anyone else who touched the walls would trigger an alarm that would wake the dead.

“Vigilia Sempiternus.”

The Eternal Watch.

Invisible threads of magic sank into the stone, spreading like roots through the entire room. They pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of awareness that would scream if anything foreign made contact.

I added a second layer, this one more aggressive.

“Ignis Purgatorio.”

Purgatorial Flame.

The spell settled over the first like a second skin, waiting. If someone was stupid enough to ignore the detection ward and keep pushing through, they’d find themselves experiencing what it felt like to burn from the inside out.

Totally reasonable security measures, honestly.

The door was next.

I stared at the heavy oak, the ornate carvings of angels and divine battles. It looked impressive but I knew exactly how flimsy it actually was. I’d seen demons tear through blessed wood like it was cardboard.

This required something special.

I pressed both palms flat against the door’s surface, channeling the last dregs of my mana into the most powerful seal I knew.

“Claustrum Animae Vinctae.”

The Prison of Bound Souls.

The door shuddered under my hands as the spell took hold. Dark gold light traced the edges, sinking deep into the wood grain. This wasn’t just a barrier, it was a trap. Anyone who tried to force entry without my explicit permission would find their soul temporarily ripped from their body and held in stasis until I decided to let them go.

Extremely illegal magic, probably classified as a war crime in six different countries.

I didn’t care even a little bit.

The spell completed with a sound like a massive lock clicking shut.

I stumbled backward, catching myself on the bedpost. My vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges. Mana exhaustion was setting in hard, the kind that would leave me bedridden for a day if I pushed any further.

I had to push further.

I looked at the Hero, still sleeping peacefully despite the magical fortress I was constructing around him.

Someone could still scry on him, use remote viewing spells to spy from a distance. They could gather information, plan attacks, maybe even cast curses through the connection.

Unacceptable.

I dragged myself upright through sheer force of will.

“Silentium Absolutum.”

The Sanctuary of Silence.

This spell was different from the others, less aggressive and more… suffocating. It created a dead zone where no magical signals could pass in or out. Scrying would show static. Telepathy would fail. Even divine communication with the Goddess herself would hit a wall.

The air in the room changed quality, becoming heavy and still.

Perfect.

I swayed on my feet, my body screaming at me to stop, to rest, to not be a complete lunatic about this.

I told my body to shut up and keep moving.

The final touch needed to be visible, a deterrent for anyone dumb enough to test the other defenses.

I gathered wind magic and light magic, weaving them together with the kind of delicate control that required absolute focus I definitely didn’t have anymore. The spell took shape near the window, a shimmering construct of compressed air and photons.

An illusion of the Hero, standing tall and alert, staring out at the city.

I refined the details with obsessive precision. The way his hair caught the light, the exact shade of his eyes, the confident set of his shoulders. It looked real enough to fool casual observation, fake enough to take a sniper’s arrow or assassination spell while the real Hero slept safely in bed.

The decoy flickered slightly as my concentration wavered.

I stabilized it with a burst of mana I absolutely didn’t have to spare.

The room tilted sideways.

I grabbed the bedpost again, breathing hard. My reserves were beyond empty, running on fumes and spite. Every muscle felt like jelly, my bones aching from magical strain.

But the room was secure.

Completely, utterly, impossibly secure.

No one was getting in here without me knowing, and anyone stupid enough to try would regret it for whatever remained of their short, agonizing life.

A knock echoed through the door.

I turned, already preparing to verbally destroy whoever—

“Your Holiness, it’s Marcus.”

His voice was muffled by the layers of magical sealing but I could hear the urgency.

I dragged myself to the door, unlocking just enough to crack it open. Marcus stood in the hallway with three other guards, all of them looking varying degrees of concerned.

“What.”

“The guards who were present at the market incident. They’re requesting permission to speak with you about the Vow of Silence ceremony.”

I stared at him for a long moment, my exhausted brain trying to process why I should care.

Then it clicked.

The guards were a liability, witnesses to the Hero’s condition, people with eyes and mouths and the ability to gossip. They’d seen him collapse, seen me carry him away. Even with the Vow binding their tongues about specific details, they could still spread rumors through implication and careful word choice.

“Fire them.”

Marcus blinked.

“Your Holiness?”

“All of them. Every guard who was in that square today.”

I let the door swing wider, leaning against the frame because standing unsupported was becoming difficult.

“Pay them severance, give them references, I don’t care. I want them gone by morning.”

“That’s forty percent of our security force—”

“Then replace them.”

I fixed him with a stare that probably looked more unhinged than authoritative given my current state.

“Call in the Shadow Paladins.”

Marcus’s face went carefully blank.

The Shadow Paladins were my personal black ops unit, soldiers I’d handpicked and trained myself. They didn’t answer to the Church, didn’t answer to the kingdom, didn’t answer to anyone except me. They were fanatically loyal in the kind of way that made regular soldiers uncomfortable.

Most people didn’t know they existed.

The ones who did know didn’t talk about it.

“All of them, Your Holiness? That’s—”

“Every single Paladin. I want this estate locked down tighter than the Grand Cathedral vaults.”

I pushed off from the doorframe, standing at my full height despite my body’s protests.

“No one enters without my explicit permission. No servants, no messengers, no Church officials. The Hero is under absolute quarantine until further notice.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened but he nodded.

“It will be done. Though I should inform you, the other servants are already asking questions about the Hero’s condition.”

“Tell them he’s in divine meditation, preparing for the Victory Ceremony.”

The lie came easily now, smooth as silk.

“Anyone who disturbs his rest will answer to me personally.”

“Understood.”

Marcus hesitated, his eyes flicking past me toward the room beyond.

“Your Holiness, are you… are you well? You look—”

“I’m fine.”

I started closing the door.

“Just tired. Send word when the Paladins arrive.”

I shut the door before he could argue, sliding all the locks back into place.

The room swam around me.

I made it three steps before my legs gave out completely. I hit the floor hard, catching myself on my hands. My arms shook with the effort of holding my weight.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

The Hero was safe, the room was secure, the guards were being replaced with people I actually trusted. This was all perfectly reasonable, totally proportional responses to a legitimate threat.

I crawled to the bed because walking was apparently beyond me now.

The Hero slept on, oblivious to everything I’d done for him. His chest rose and fell with steady rhythm, face peaceful in the glow of the magical barriers surrounding us.

I pulled myself up onto the mattress, my body moving on pure muscle memory.

“No one’s getting to you.”

I whispered it into the silence, reaching out to touch his face.

“Not assassins, not demons, not the Church, not anyone. This room is a fortress now. The safest place in the entire kingdom.”

My hand trembled against his cheek.

“And if that means you stay here with me, away from all the dangers and the politics and the people who would use you…”

I let my fingers trace down to his jaw, memorizing every perfect angle.

“Then that’s what love looks like. Keeping you safe, even if you don’t understand why.”

The Golden Aegis pulsed faintly around us, warm light filtering through elaborate prison bars I’d disguised as decorative window grilles.

He wouldn’t see them as bars when he woke up.

He’d see beautiful craftsmanship, artistic gold work, aesthetic choices.

He wouldn’t realize the windows no longer opened, that the door only responded to my mana signature, that the walls themselves were designed to keep him in as much as keep others out.

This was protection, not imprisonment.

This was love, not obsession.

I believed that with every fiber of my exhausted, fraying consciousness.

My eyes drifted shut, my body finally overriding my brain’s objections.

The last thing I registered was the sound of the Eternal Watch humming softly, a lullaby of deadly magic wrapped around the most precious thing in my world.

Safe.

He was finally, completely, perfectly safe.