Darkness.
But not cold. Not silent.
Kelsey floated in the empty space, chains of violet light wrapped tight around her soul just like before. The shimmering boundaries pulsed with dull, lifeless energy, and the air was still. But something had changed. The pain wasn't as strong. The fear wasn't as loud.
She was awake.
Truly awake.
The thoughts no longer bounced around like echoes; they were sharp, clear. She remembered who she was. She remembered her name.
And she remembered Mike.
A ripple in the boundary. A figure emerged through the gray mist, robes as dark as the sky above. Eyes like silver eclipses. A skeletal hand lifted in greeting.
"Hello again, Kelsey," Thanatos said gently.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're back."
"I am," he replied, pausing next to the shimmering boundaries. "And this time, I've come to free you."
Kelsey blinked, her soul began pulsing rapidly. "Why?"
"Because I owe a debt," Thanatos said, moving next to her without resistance. "To your husband."
She swallowed hard. "Is he… alive?"
Thanatos smiled faintly. "More than that. He's coming. Even now. And the time has come for you to meet him again, with your own will."
He arrived beside her. His touch wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold either. It was grounding. Solid. Real.
With a wave of his hand, the violet chains began to dissolve. Rune by rune, they cracked and shattered like glass.
Kelsey then met his eyes. "How?"
Thanatos nodded toward the far side of the shimmering space, where an obsidian door waited, a door she had never been able to approach before.
"He broke the Crone. Tore through the Pit. Consumed the throne demons and burned a path through the fortress. Now he's here, in the final corridor, bleeding and furious."
Her mind began racing.
Thanatos extended a hand.
"Let's go meet him."
And together, they moved toward the door.
Thud.
Mike slammed a corpse against the wall as its ribcage exploded under the pressure of his clawed palm. Blood and rot splattered the rusted metal, and a fresh wave of undead surged from the shadows.
The corridor groaned under the weight of bodies. Limbs crawled across the floor, broken spines twisted like snakes, and shrieks echoed off the walls like a cacophony of decay.
Mike pressed forward anyway.
His entire body was torn open, slashes, punctures, burn marks from corrupted essence. His scales were cracked, peeling in places. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes still burned bright red in the dark.
Another swarm launched itself at him.
He exhaled black and red fire, sweeping through the hallway, incinerating twenty of them at once. Screams filled the air, brief, desperate, and then gone.
He staggered forward.
The walls pulsed with necromantic energy. Green symbols burned through the metal like cancer, and his dragon senses screamed warnings through his skull.
At the far end of the hall, a figure waited.
Tall. Robed. Horned. Nebiros stood calmly with one hand resting on a twisted bone staff, the other held a jagged ceremonial dagger. His face was more skull than flesh now, eyes glowing like two dying stars.
"You've made quite the mess, little dragon," he said with a sneer. "Your blood will bring glory to our Lady's new vessel."
Mike didn't answer.
He kept walking.
Nebiros raised his hand, unleashing another wave of twisted undead. These were faster, darker. Fused with demons. Chained together with blades in their hands. But Mike had had enough.
He roared, and the corridor shook.
He tore through them like a hurricane, claws shredding flesh, fire blasting apart the chained horrors, his tail cracking skulls like eggshells. Blood rained from the ceiling. Bones bounced down the halls.
Then the last one fell, and Mike stood before Nebiros, swaying slightly.
Nebiros smiled.
"You're weakening."
Mike said nothing.
The necromancer lunged, dagger flashing in the light.
Mike let him stab it.
The blade pierced deep into Mike's abdomen, sliding between ribs. Black blood sprayed.
But Mike's claws clamped down on Nebiros's arm.
Hard.
"Surprise," Mike growled.
He grinned wide as his head transformed, jaws elongating, horns curling, fangs growing as his draconic maw returned in full.
And he bit.
His teeth sank deep into Nebiros's shoulder, crunching through bone. The demon screamed, essence leaking from the wound.
Mike drank it.
The pain in his abdomen dulled instantly. Torn muscle began to knit. His back straightened.
Nebiros tried to pull away, but Mike locked his claws around his waist.
With a muffled laugh through his bloody grin, Mike yanked the demon close and bit again, tearing off most of the arm.
"STOP!" Nebiros howled. "NO—PLEASE—"
Another bite. Ribs crunched. Viscera spilled.
Then, one last time, Mike clamped his jaws around the demon's head and crushed it.
The body twitched and went still.
Mike swallowed.
His body surged with power. The deepest wounds began to close. Cracks in his scales healed. The light in his eyes grew brighter.
He rose slowly, blood running from his jaw.
With a breathless exhale, he turned toward the massive double doors at the far end of the corridor. Black steel. Bone-carved handles. Runic locks glowing with the same infernal green.
He walked toward them.
He didn't hesitate.
He placed both hands on the doors.
And pushed.
They creaked open.
And there she was.
The chamber beyond was massive, walls made of obsidian, floors of blackened stone. Bones littered the ground like discarded puppets. A throne of twisted spines sat at the far end, and on it… Hecate.
Her hair was a tangle of black vines. Her eyes glowed with violet fury. Her body radiated old, primordial magic. She looked more specter than woman now, like a phantom puppeteering a corpse.
As he stepped into the room, her lips curled into a smile.
"My love returns," she said mockingly. "Covered in filth. Still pretending you're something other than a beast."
Mike didn't say a word.
"Oh come now," she cooed. "You've come so far. Look at all you've killed for me. Doesn't it feel good? Isn't it better to just let go of your old life and become what you were always meant to be?"
Mike stared at her.
Then, in a low, even voice, he said:
"Thanatos. Now."
Hecate's expression shattered.
Her pupils dilated. Her power flared. A scream ripped from her mouth.
"No!!"
She clutched her chest as glowing cracks began to form along her skin, violet fissures splitting her aura. Her hold over the room pulsed, flickered, then snapped.
Somewhere deep in the walls of her soul, something was breaking.
And behind her eyes, Kelsey began to wake.
The black soul-prison trembled.
Kelsey floated, hand pressed against the obsidian door.
Thanatos behind her, expression calm but alert.
"He's here," Kelsey whispered. "I feel him."
Thanatos nodded. "And now… the rest is yours."
The key he had given Kelsey appeared. The door blazed with light.
It began to open.
Back in the throne room, Hecate screamed in fury. Magic lashed outward like a hurricane, spells designed to kill gods, to tear apart flesh, to obliterate souls. Mike stepped into the onslaught, fire wrapping around his form, black and red flames coiling around his limbs like armor.
He didn't speak.
He didn't scream.
He walked forward.
And when he reached the base of her throne, he raised his eyes.
She saw him, truly saw him.
And in that moment, he knew.
Kelsey was back.