The spiral staircase twisted upward, a narrow escape. But the beasts were relentless, their grotesque bodies toppling over one another, collapsing the stairs beneath their weight. Cleo barely made it to the top floor, her breath ragged as she deliberated—left or right? There was no time. She chose left, her legs burning as she sprinted toward the large stone door at the end of the hall.

  She was so close when a hand—if it could be called that—clasped her ankle, its grip like iron. Cleo yelled as she was yanked back on the limping leg. the sharp claws tearing into her calf. not only irritated with its terrible odor but that it was getting its hands on her. She looked down in horror at the creature pulling her under it. Its eyes were milky white, devoid of life, yet filled with a hunger that chilled her to the bone. Its decayed ribcage exposed a heart, black and pulsing with unnatural life.

  With all the strength she had left, she drove the blade into the creature’s heart, twisting and turning it as black ichor spilled over her hands. The monster let out a final, pitiful wail before collapsing on top of her, its weight nearly crushing her. “that easy?” she says to the creature before the hallway was swarming with more of them, their snarls growing louder, more desperate. She stumbled toward the stone door, her vision blurring with exhaustion.

  Just as the first beast lunged at her, the door creaked open with a low groan. Cleo slipped inside, slamming it shut behind her. The sound of the lock sliding into place was a small comfort, at least until the foolish man came back.

  She collapsed to the floor, her body trembling with fatigue. Crawling under the bed, she tried to calm her racing heart. Above her, a spider was weaving its web, each thread carefully placed, a delicate trap in the midst of chaos. Cleo stared at it, her mind foggy with exhaustion.

  “Foolish man,” she whispered, her words barely audible. Was she speaking to herself? To the monsters outside? Or to the unseen forces that had driven her to this moment?

  Sleep tugged at her, heavy and relentless, pulling her under. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the spider, its web nearly complete.

  zadarrah.

  He had seen her genuine fright over something as simple as a piece of rope. The absurdity of it gnawed at him. Just what did she think him capable of? The thought was fleeting, pushed aside as he encountered an army of twenty soldiers. They were draped in flamboyant attire, their confidence as gaudy as the symbols of their master, which they paraded like obedient fools. Eravell soldiers.

  “Warlock,” the leader addressed him.

  The voice wasn’t Michael’s, and that fact alone vexed Zadarrah. This was the perfect place to bury a perverted man like him.

  “Do not take another step. You are ordered by the king to return to the kingdom—peacefully.”

  Zadarrah spat on the ground, his disdain clear, before striding toward them. The soldiers, sensing the danger, parted instinctively, creating a path for him out of sheer fear.

  Samuel, on the far right, dismounted from his horse and hurried to catch up with Zadarrah. “My good man…” He clapped Zadarrah on the back, but Zadarrah shrugged off the touch, quickening his pace.

  Samuel raised his hands in mock surrender. “My fault, I apologize. I realize you’re not inclined to much physical contact. However, I’m on a different trail. My sister, Cleo, seems to have vanished. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her… possibly?”

  Zadarrah kept walking. “No.”

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  “Really?” Samuel’s voice took on a teasing edge. “Because her jewelry is in your pockets.”

  Zadarrah exhaled sharply, irritated. “What do you want?”

  Samuel smiled, placing his hands on his hips. “You didn’t kill her, did you?” The pointed tone of his voice suggested there would be consequences if the answer was yes.

  “She’s well taken care of,” Zadarrah replied curtly, continuing to walk away.

  “Good. Then where is she? She is needed.”

  Zadarrah rolled his eyes. “To burn more corpses?”

  Samuel laughed as they moved away from the soldiers, ignoring his signal not to follow. Still, Zadarrah could hear them creeping into the forest behind.

  “No, I don’t know why she chose that task,” Samuel mused. “Perhaps it’s a punishment of sorts. She never liked being dirty—it drives her mad.”

  “Really.” Zadarrah’s tone was flat, betraying his lack of interest.

  Samuel observed him closely. “She’s still young, my good man. But if you wish to wed her, you must follow due process.”

  Samuel’s chuckle died in his throat as Zadarrah’s hand shot out, lifting him off the ground by his collar. “Careful.”

  Samuel laughed nervously, “Apologies.”

  he knew zadarrahs hatred for humanity. their religions, their culture, their existence, their relationships and fleeting emotions that only end in betray. why one would tie themselves to another for all their lives was beyond him.

  Zadarrah dropped him unceremoniously, turning away without a second thought.

  “So, I take it you’re not coming back to the kingdom?” Samuel called after him as Zadarrah walked off. “There’s a plague coming, Zadarrah. This land… nothing will remain if it’s left unconfined. Men, children, women of all races will die…” But his words did nothing to stop Zadarrah. “And she won’t stand by and let that happen.”

  Zadarrah paused, his jaw tensing. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the troops retreat.

  He considered his journey. He might not return on time. The sun was already kissing the horizon; nightfall was mere minutes away, and the trek back would take a day on foot.

  Resigned, he tucked himself under a tree, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. After much deliberation, sleep finally claimed him, thoughts of how his day would pan out in the morrow swirling in his mind.

  Before dawn, he awoke, driven by the urgency of his mission. As he searched for the coven where the ring truly lay, he stumbled upon a trail of corpses leading to a massive wall built from charred remains and bones. It stretched as tall as the eye could see.

  With a powerful leap, Zadarrah soared into the sky, leaving a crater where he had stood, and landed on the roof constructed from more corpses. Despite their decayed state, there was no recognizable scent. He stomped on the corpses until they gave way, releasing a foul black magic into the air.

  Zadarrah grimaced at the stench before leaping into the blood-red realm. The entrance sealed behind him, living corpses closing in, trapping him.

  He took a step forward, the crunch of bones beneath him echoing in the stillness. A drumbeat resonated in the distance, accompanied by a sinister voice leading a haunting melody:

  “Lead us, Father, to your doom,

  Leave us, Father, as we swoon.

  Tell us, dear Lord, what we must do,

  Enlighten us, sacred angel, whom we shall fool.”

  “Zadarrah?” Melodias’s voice pierced the eerie silence, its resonance mingling with the twisted chant echoing through the air.

  He turned to face the haunting figure. Her bone-white hair floated weightlessly, as if caught in a slow, unnatural wind. Her eyes were wide, frozen in a silent scream, her jaw unhinged and distended far beyond human limits, snapping grotesquely out of place as it continued to gape, stretching down to her abdomen.

  A scowl twisted Zadarrah’s face, and he instinctively took half a step back.

  Her fingernails had grown into sharp, glistening points, like the edges of razors. In a strained, garbling whisper, her voice rasped his name, “Za…da…rah…!” Each syllable clawed at the silence, her voice low and haunted.

  Then, without warning, she lunged toward him, her body gliding as though carried by the wind, her fingers aimed straight for his heart.