Benjamin limped into the cavern, one arm clutching his ribs, the other still gripping his axe. He could feel the dull ache of bruises spreading across his torso, but he ignored it. There was no time.
The ritual circle was before him.
Even after everything, after the fight with the golem, the aching exhaustion settling into his bones, the sight of the glowing runes sent a rare shiver down his spine.
It was old—ancient, even. A massive stone dais, its surface etched with intricate sigils that pulsed with a soft blue glow.
Benjamin wasn't one for magic, but he could recognize power when he saw it.
Carefully, he pulled out the notes Merrick had given him, his fingers rough against the parchment. The young magician had been thorough—every line, every instruction was there.
"Alright," he muttered, scanning the text. "Let's see what this damned thing can do."
He knelt at the edge of the circle, pressing his hand to one of the smaller runes. The stone beneath his fingers hummed, almost like it was alive.
Then the sigils flared to life.
The ground vibrated, and a low, resonant chime echoed through the chamber.
Benjamin gritted his teeth. This was it.
The portal was opening.
*
Mira's legs burned as she darted through the dim corridors, the key clutched tightly in her palm.
Darron was still behind her. Even after the fight, even after she'd cut him deep, he refused to stay down.
"I don't know why you're so desperate to do this, Mira," Darron's voice echoed behind her. He was limping now, but still dangerously close. "You don't even know what's waiting for you in that cave."
Mira didn't answer.
She whirled around a corner, pressing herself against the wall, her breath shallow.
She could hear Darron's footsteps getting closer. Slower. Hesitant.
She clenched her dagger. Wait for it.
Darron stepped into view.
Mira struck.
Her dagger flashed, catching the dim candlelight, and buried itself into Darron's thigh.
He yelled in pain, staggering back.
Mira wrenched the blade free, her chest heaving.
Darron's knees buckled, and he collapsed, one hand clutching his wound. His dueling cane clattered to the floor.
He tried to speak, but his voice was weak now, ragged.
Mira took one last look at him.
Then she turned and ran.
*
Flint wiped blood from his lip, staring at Char with a new expression.
Not anger. Not annoyance.
Amusement.
"You've got fire," Flint admitted. "But you don't understand what you're fighting for."
Char tightened his grip on his knife, ignoring the pain lancing through his ribs. "I think I understand just fine."
Flint chuckled. "Do you?"
He stepped back, wiping dust from his coat. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you, since you're so determined to get in my way."
He exhaled.
"You think this town survives on its own?" He gestured around. "Hallow's Rest thrives on travelers. Merchants, wanderers, adventurers—every single one of them needs to stay the night. They need to eat, to rest, to spend their coin."
He pointed toward the direction of the cave.
"If that portal is activated—if people can just teleport from here to Jaffalex—" He scoffed. "No more need for inns. No more need for supplies. No more need for Hallow's Rest."
Char's mind reeled.
He hadn't expected this.
Flint wasn't guarding the ritual circle because of some secret power or dangerous magic.
He was guarding it because he was afraid of losing the town's economy.
Char clenched his fists.
"You're sacrificing everyone's freedom for money?"
Flint shook his head. "Not money. Survival. You don't get it, boy. If this town loses its purpose, it dies."
Char took a slow breath.
He thought of everything he'd been through—the bandits, the fights, the death he'd seen.
Then he thought of Edmund Ardent.
A true threat. A real monster.
Flint was nothing compared to that man.
And Char had had enough of being pushed around.
This time, he was going to win.
Flint saw the change in his stance. "You really think—"
Char moved.
Fast.
Before Flint could finish speaking, Char dashed forward, his knife flashing through the air.
Flint twisted, trying to counter—
But Char was already inside his guard.
With a sharp pivot, Char drove his knee into Flint's ribs. The older man gasped, doubling over—
Char followed up with an elbow strike to his temple.
Flint stumbled, dazed—
And Char finished it.
With a final, brutal strike, he slammed his knife hilt into Flint's jaw.
The man crashed to the ground.
Unconscious.
Char stood over him, breathing heavily. His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline still surging through his veins.
Then—a realization.
He'd won.
Really won.
He wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was fighting back.
And this time—he'd come out on top.
Char took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. He still had work to do.
He turned and ran toward the cave.
*
Mira burst into the cavern first, her lungs burning from the sprint.
Benjamin was waiting beside the glowing circle, his face lined with exhaustion.
"Where's Char?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
Mira barely had time to respond before Char rushed in, breathless.
"We're all here," he said quickly.
Mira tossed Benjamin the key.
"Good," Benjamin said, turning to the circle. "Then let's get the hell out of here."
The runes flared, their glow intensifying as the ritual activated.
A low hum filled the air, vibrating beneath their feet.
Mira glanced at Char. He was staring at the portal, eyes wide.
"This is it," he murmured.
"Yeah," Mira said, offering him a small smile. "Guess it is."
The portal hummed, its light pulsing with energy. The runes on the ground glowed brighter, flickering like a heartbeat, just seconds from activation.
Then—a shout.
"Stop right there!"
Char's stomach dropped.
He turned—and saw them.
Flint.
Darron, one of his assistants.
And five more men, all assistants too.
They stood at the entrance of the cavern, their faces shadowed by the flickering torchlight.
But it wasn't just them.
At the center of their group, on his knees, bound and gagged, was Merrick.
He was hurt—his clothes torn, blood staining his sleeves and collar. His wrists were bound behind his back, and a thick cloth was tied around his mouth.
Flint stepped forward, his face dark with fury.
"You really thought you could just leave?" he snarled. "That you could steal from me, ruin everything I've worked for, and just walk away?"
Char's breath hitched.
Merrick struggled, his eyes darting between them, silently begging for help.
Then Flint drew a knife—a long, curved blade—and pressed it against Merrick's throat.
"Step away from the circle," Flint ordered. "Now. Or I gut him right here."
A cold silence.
The portal's glow flickered, still waiting.
The air was thick, heavy.
Char felt his fingers tighten around his blades. His mind raced.
This was bad.
They were outnumbered. Outmatched. Flint wasn't bluffing—Merrick's life hung in the balance.
Mira gasped, stepping forward. "You don't have to do this!" she pleaded. "We weren't trying to ruin the town—"
"Enough." Flint's voice was like stone. "You've already done enough."
His grip tightened on Merrick's collar. "This is the deal: You let go of this foolishness. You step away from that circle, and you never speak of it again."
He pressed the blade closer. "Or I end him."
A horrible silence.
Char's pulse pounded in his ears.
His fingers itched for his knives. His body tensed, ready to move—
But could he make it in time?
Merrick's life balanced on the edge of Flint's blade.
Mira's breath hitched.
She stepped forward—hands open, trembling.
"Don't do this," she whispered. "Take me instead."
Char's chest seized.
Mira's voice was calm, but her eyes burned with quiet defiance.
"If you want to punish someone," she said, "then take me. I was the one who stole the key. I was the one who led them here."
She swallowed hard.
"Let my brother go."
Char froze.
His heart pounded.
This wasn't happening.
Flint's expression barely changed. "Touching," he said. "But you're not worth as much as him."
His grip tightened on Merrick's collar.
Mira took another step forward. "Please."
Char couldn't move.
Mira was willing to die for this. For her brother.
And he didn't know what to do.
Then—a voice broke the silence.
A low, rough voice.
"That's enough."
Benjamin stepped forward.
His posture was steady. Unshaken.
The cavern fell silent.
Mira froze.
Flint's eyes narrowed.
Even Darron, half-leaning against the cave wall, looked startled.
Benjamin met Flint's gaze, his expression unreadable.
"You want someone to take responsibility?" Benjamin said.
He exhaled.
"Then take me."
Silence.
Char's breath caught.
Mira's eyes widened.
And for the first time, Flint looked—genuinely surprised.
The cavern seemed to hold its breath.
Benjamin's voice was steady.
"This isn't their fault," he said. "It was mine. From the moment I set foot in this town, I planned to leave. And I planned to take him with me." He nodded at Char. "I was the one who trained him. I was the one who encouraged all of this."
He stepped forward, his boots scraping against the cavern floor.
"So, Flint," he said, his tone grim.
"Let the kids go.
"And take it out on me."
The air was electric.
The portal still glowed, waiting.
Char couldn't breathe.
Mira stared, her hands trembling.
And Flint—
Flint smiled.
Like he'd just won.
"Alright," he murmured.
"Deal."
The blade shifted against Merrick's throat.
And everything collapsed.