The portal tore open over a pine forest.
Mike dropped from the sky like a meteor.
He slammed into the ground outside the rusting remains of a military facility, the once-fortified concrete perimeter walls shattered under his impact. The trees around him bent from the force of his arrival, red and black aura leaking off him like wildfire smoke.
Within seconds, the demons were on him.
A squad of horned beasts, armored in rusted metal and spiked bone, rushed forward from the shattered outer yard. Their shrieks echoed through the pine as they formed a loose semicircle around the dragon.
Mike didn't wait.
His wings snapped outward, hurling snow and dirt into the air. His chest glowed red. And then
ROAR.
A blast of black and red fire erupted from his mouth, engulfing the demons in an instant. Their bodies didn't just burn, they evaporated, disintegrating into ash and chunks of smoking bone.
From the woods behind them, more poured out. Dozens. Then hundreds.
Demons. Cultists. Twisted creatures from the inside of the base, crafted by Hecate's foul resurrection magic.
The facility had once been a secure command center, tucked deep into the side of a Virginia mountain. Underground bunkers. Reinforced lower levels. Now, it was a temple of horror and undead.
Mike marched forward, fire coiling around him.
"HECATE!" he roared into the open air.
The answer came in the form of a new enemy.
Not demons this time, but zombies.
The air grew still. Then came the moaning. Groaning. Dozens of rotten corpses pulled themselves from the snow-dusted earth. Some wore old uniforms. Others wore robes, or civilian clothing. But all of them had glowing glyphs carved into their foreheads.
Necromancy.
The work of the witch.
They shuffled forward in waves, arms outstretched, eyes hollow, mouths open with hunger. Dozens turned into a hundred. Then more. Behind them, red glyphs floated in the air, magic circles tied to the base's wards, summoning more and more from below.
Mike bared his fangs. "Fucking bitch!"
His wings flared again, and the world turned red.
He swept the zombies with a cone of black and crimson flame, melting bodies to bone, evaporating glyphs with the sheer force of his aura. But they kept coming. Charred remains twitched and rose again, undead muscle reforging with fresh sigils.
He turned and torched another horde. Then another.
Each time, more surged forward.
A pair of demons burst from the base's broken gate, dragging behind them chains of bones that writhed like serpents. They hurled them at Mike, trying to ensnare him.
He roared again and leapt, wings snapping downward. He smashed into the demons mid-air and crushed both under his claws, bones exploding outward. Fire erupted in every direction.
But the tide still swarmed.
The air thickened with ash and necrotic magic. The earth cracked from the pressure of overlapping glyphs. The fortress loomed ahead, its steel doors sealed, glowing faint red with the witch's cursed magic. And still more undead crawled from every crevice.
Mike landed, surrounded. Wings curled inward. His body trembled from the strain of constant battle.
Then came the flare of fire that wasn't his.
BOOM.
A wave of golden-red flames surged from the woods to the south, disintegrating a line of approaching zombies.
From the shadows of the trees, a familiar figure emerged, his body wrapped in smokeless flame. Two burning eyes gleamed beneath two massive horns.
Hamza.
He strode calmly forward, dragging one hand behind him through the snow, a line of flame trailing in his wake. As zombies lurched toward him, they disintegrated before they got close, ash turned to dust in the air.
Mike exhaled a half-laugh, half-snarl. "Took you long enough."
Hamza nodded. "Had to discuss a matter with the king." He paused. "But you're still reckless."
Mike turned back to the next wave of zombies. "Save the lectures. Burn them."
They fought side by side.
Mike ripped through the undead hordes with tooth and claw, fire sweeping outward in arcs. Hamza moved like a storm, his form blurring between strikes, each movement incinerating five or ten enemies at once. His flames weren't just fire, they were essence. Soul-searing. Absolute.
Together, they carved a burning path toward the main facility doors.
The sky grew darker with the necrotic fog. A new shriek echoed from the far end of the yard, dozens of glowing-eyed abominations surged from the outer perimeter, larger, faster, armed with jagged blades pulsing with death.
Mike didn't wait.
He leapt into the air, wings beating hard. He smashed into the center of the elite group like a boulder dropped from orbit, sending corpses flying. Then he torched them. Every single one.
Hamza moved in behind, carving runes in the air that exploded in waves of fire. Bodies incenerated, unable to rise again.
They reached the main gate.
Mike roared once more, and his claws slammed into the reinforced metal. The door, enchanted with layer upon layer of infernal and celestial wards, cracked on the first strike. Crumpled on the second. Then shattered on the third, metal curling like paper beneath his rage.
Inside, the corridor descended sharply, lights flickering overhead.
Darkness. Blood. Symbols on every wall.
"Always hiding like a fucking rat! Hecate! Where is my fucking wife!?" Mike roared, storming forward.
More undead rushed toward them in the hallway. Mike didn't slow. He barreled through them, fire trailing behind him. Hamza moved behind him, his own flames sealing the halls and covering their flanks.
The two tore through the upper levels like a storm.
Mike crushed bodies beneath his claws. Hamza erased them with flame.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, a massive elevator shaft that descended into the heart of the mountain.
Mike stared at it. The doors were missing. The shaft was open, and the cable long gone.
Hamza stopped beside him.
"I can't go further with you yet," Hamza said.
Mike looked at him, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"The descent is steep. You'll need to be in human form to fit. The undead energy below is thick enough that my presence will trigger every ward she's laid. She'll know I'm there the moment I step in."
Mike frowned, his body still wreathed in essence. But after a moment, he exhaled.
His dragon form shimmered, shrank.
His wings folded, his tail pulled back into bone, and the aura faded as he transformed into his human form, bare-chested, dirt-streaked, bleeding from a dozen cuts, but eyes burning with hatred for the witch.
Hamza reached out and put a hand on Mike's shoulder.
"Destroy any glowing symbols you see on the way in and I'll follow behind you."
Mike exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly.
"Will do." Mike looked down the dark shaft. "How long do you think I have before she replaces the crone?"
Hamza nodded once. "Long enough for you to do this smart. Do not be reckless."
Mike didn't answer.
He stepped to the edge of the shaft, wind from the deeper levels pushing up against him.
He jumped.
Darkness swallowed him.