The silence lingered long after the ritual ended.
Kitana rose on unsteady legs, the forest ash still clinging to her palms. Her body felt… wrong. Not in pain. Not in agony. Just wrong. Like something had been carved out of her and filled with something else—something old, and watching. She didn't speak. Neither did Lucian or Moira.
They simply walked.
Each footstep stirred the ash and dead leaves of Fellspar, trailing faint footprints through a land that had forgotten how to echo. The air felt thinner the deeper they went, the trees more twisted, bark flaking like dried scabs. Shadows loomed longer, even when there was no clear source of light.
Kitana kept her eyes ahead. But inside, a voice whispered: Was that really the right thing?
She had stopped the hunger. She had fed without killing.
But it didn't feel right. It felt like submission. Like she'd accepted a truth she had sworn never to live by.
Her right hand flexed—human again, but the memory of claws remained. She didn't speak those thoughts aloud. Not yet. Not when her chest still ached from sobbing into Lucian's shoulder, and her pride hadn't found its footing again. A low growl snapped her from the spiral.
Lucian stopped beside her. Moira turned her head, veil rippling once.
From the blackened treeline, things moved.
Six of them—no, seven. Crawling on all fours, their backs arched like broken wolves. Flesh peeled away in places, revealing twisted bones and eyes that glowed with that unmistakable hell-born red. Demonic beasts, tainted by the wars that had scorched this land centuries ago. But these weren't like the one that had nearly killed her in the marshlands. These were wild. Lesser. Forgotten things made of hunger and rot.
"Stay close," Lucian muttered.
Kitana didn't answer. She reached behind her, drawing her grandfather's katana.
The hiss of the blade leaving its sheath was almost soothing.
She wondered—briefly—how he would have looked at her now. Half-demon. Killer.
Would he have seen her? Or the thing she was becoming?
The beasts charged and Kitana moved. She met the first mid-leap, blade slicing through its throat in a clean arc. The weight of the strike felt like muscle memory, not rage. Precision, not hunger. Another beast lunged for Moira—only to crumple as Lucian's sword split its spine with a flicker of blue flame. The rest fell just as fast. Kitana didn't even feel her heart rate rise.
Too easy.
Too quiet.
She stood over the last of them, breathing shallowly. Her katana dripped foul-smelling blood onto the cracked ground.
"They're getting weaker," Lucian muttered, cleaning his blade.
Moira stepped around a carcass, her expression unreadable behind the veil. "Or something stronger is keeping them from thriving."
They kept walking. And then—they stopped.
The dead trees ended suddenly. A clearing spread before them, wide and barren. The ground dipped downward in a basin of cracked stone and collapsed roots. At its center yawned the mouth of a cave—massive, jagged, and black as a demon's eye socket.
The rock around the entrance pulsed faintly. Veins of red light slithered like scars across the stone. Heat poured from the gap in slow, rhythmic exhalations—like the cave itself was breathing.
None of them had to say it.
Whatever was inside… wasn't sleeping.
Kitana's hand clenched around her blade. Moira stared into the dark. Lucian strangely smiled .
The cavern yawned before them like the mouth of some ancient beast.
Kitana stepped first.
Heat curled against her skin, a dry, suffocating breath from deep within the earth. The air reeked of sulfur and something older—something buried. Lucian moved beside her, sword drawn and glowing faintly with cold flame. Moira followed in silence, her veil trailing like smoke.
The deeper they walked, the more the world narrowed.
The tunnel twisted. Red light pulsed through the stone like blood in veins. Cracks split the path beneath their feet, heat venting upward in slow exhalations. Kitana's breath grew shallow. Her chest tight.
Her katana remained in her grip. The memory of the ritual still clung to her muscles—an ache not of exhaustion, but of dissonance.
It felt like she was wearing someone else's skin.
Then—screams.
Not human. Never human.
A sound like grinding stone layered over shrieking wind. Then claws. Then eyes—red and hungry—emerging from the darkness ahead.
Dozens. No, hundreds.
Demonic beasts burst from the depths, scrambling along walls and ceilings like insects. Some galloped on all fours, others slithered and twisted like they had no bones at all. Their bodies were misshapen, mouths where ears should be, legs that bent in wrong directions.
They came in waves.
"Seven, front!" Moira called from behind. "Three more above!"
Kitana moved. Her blade sang as it split through the first creature's jaw. The next she ducked under, slicing its legs and spinning to meet a third. Lucian joined her, blue fire slashing arcs through the chaos, cutting limbs from bodies like butter.
Moira didn't fight—she didn't need to. Her voice cut through the storm:
"Left flank! Behind you, Lucian!"
"Fast crawler at Kitana's three o'clock!"
Her warnings kept them alive as the swarm closed in.
Kitana's breath came hard. Her arms burned. Blood sprayed across her cheeks, hot and hissing. She cut without pause, muscle memory guiding each strike. But the hunger…
It whispered again.
One moment—one half-second—she felt it stir inside. A surge of power. So easy. All she had to do was give in. Her arm twitched.
Just a little, the voice urged. You'll last longer. Be faster. Stronger.
No.
She shoved it down.
"Watch it!" Lucian shouted.
She snapped her head up—ducked—barely avoided the teeth of a charging beast. Her blade came up late but landed true, cutting a deep slash across its face. Time twisted. Minutes stretched. Maybe hours. The battle became a blur of blood, sweat, and screaming steel. Still, they fought. Tireless. Unrelenting.
And finally—silence.
The last beast fell with a dying gurgle, twitching until its malformed body went still. The stone floor was slick with black ichor. Their boots stuck to it with each step. Kitana wiped her blade on her cloak, chest heaving. "Too many," she muttered.
Lucian leaned on his sword. "And all demonic beasts. Not a single lesser or high among them."
Kitana narrowed her eyes, still scanning the dark ahead. "Why would a vessel rely on filth like this?"
Moira's voice was quiet. "Why only beasts?"
A voice answered.
"That's because I don't need any help."
It didn't echo. It landed, like a blade at their feet.
Kitana froze.
From the stone ledge above, a figure emerged. Tall. Horned. His skin shimmered like cracked obsidian, etched with burning red lines that pulsed like veins. His robe dragged behind him, made of shadows that seemed to resist light. His eyes were deep pools of ink, and when he grinned, his teeth looked carved from coal.
"Well, well," he said, arms open. "Storming into my den. Just the three of you? Bold. Or very, very stupid."
Lucian lifted his blade, calm. "We don't need more to kill you."
The vessel's grin widened. "No, no. Not you." His gaze slid over them—and landed on Kitana. His pupils dilated. "Ahhh… you."
Kitana felt her stomach drop.
"Oho," he chuckled. "You didn't come for me."
He leapt down, landing with a boom that cracked the floor beneath them.
"You're aiming for my lord. The Duke."
His grin turned manic. "You're even dumber than I thought."
He raised a hand. Shadows twisted into blades. The heat in the air spiked.
"I accept your challenge," he purred.
And the air exploded. Lucian met him first. Steel crashed against dark magic, blue fire against red heat. Sparks showered. Kitana joined, her katana flashing in deadly arcs. She and Lucian fought in rhythm, twin edges striking from both sides. The vessel barely seemed phased.
He laughed through the blows. "You call this a plan? You want to kill Merikh? And this—this is the best you've got?"
Kitana lunged—but he twisted away, catching her blade mid-swing with a gauntleted hand. His strength sent her flying backward.
Lucian roared, charging in. But the vessel was already moving.
"Pathetic," he snarled. "He's a god among us, and you can't even scratch me!"
He summoned a jagged black blade and hurled it—straight at Kitana. She couldn't move. Her legs refused. That whisper inside her screamed. Let me out! Let me—
Then—light.
Moira.
She stepped in front of her, veil blown back, eyes not empty but full of light hand raised. The blade struck something invisible and shattered into smoke.
Behind her, faint wings of gold shimmered into view—wisps of a past self.
The air froze. Even the vessel hesitated. "An… angel?"
Moira didn't lower her hand. Her voice was soft—but like steel.
"Not exactly."