The crypt was older than the manor itself.
Stone steps spiraled downward beneath the west wing, past torchlit corridors and walls etched with runes that pulsed faintly as Mila passed. They whispered in tongues no living being spoke anymore — but she felt them stirring.
Elias walked beside her, blade strapped to his back, pistol at his hip. His eyes were dark, jaw tight.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
At the base of the stairwell stood a massive iron door — scorched black, sealed shut with blood magic.
The ring around Mila's neck flared hot against her skin.
She took it off, fingers trembling only slightly, and pressed it into the center of the door.
It hissed. The air trembled. Then—
CLANG.
The seal broke.
The door opened with a sound like the earth itself groaning.
And beyond it stood the ghost of a man they were never supposed to face.
---
He wasn't fully human anymore.
Elias's grandfather — Lord Calder Ashbourne — looked like a king carved from shadow. Tall, regal, with silver hair and eyes that burned white. Around him, spirits clung like mist, whispering, moaning.
"So," Calder said softly, "you've brought your little darling to see the end."
"She's not just mine," Elias said. "She's the reason you won't rise again."
Calder smiled. "You think love is power?"
"No," Mila said, stepping forward. "But I've lived without it. And I'd rather burn than bow to a man who feeds on fear."
His gaze shifted to her. "Ah, the orphan. The stray. The girl with no name worth remembering."
"I'll make sure you remember it in hell."
The runes in the chamber lit up.
And the crypt exploded into battle.
---
Spirits lunged from the walls — twisted, faceless things — reaching for Mila's skin.
Elias pulled his blade and fought like a man possessed, every movement sharp, calculated, deadly.
Mila spun with her dagger, slashing at the shadow-beasts, dodging claws and fire. The ring pulsed on her wrist now — binding her to the power of the house.
Calder laughed through it all, floating above them like a god untouched.
"You can't kill what's already buried!" he shouted. "I built this family with blood. I am this house!"
Mila looked at Elias.
"Then let's bury him deeper."
---
Elias nodded and reached into his coat.
He pulled out the second half of the ritual spell they'd found in the archives — the one that could seal Calder permanently.
But it required two hearts bound by truth.
And Mila had to speak first.
She grabbed Elias's hand and said it — clearly, without fear.
"I love you."
His breath caught.
Even in the middle of chaos, he froze — and his eyes filled with something Mila had never seen there before.
Not just desire.
Hope.
He grabbed her waist and kissed her — hard, desperate, like it might be the last time.
Then he said it back:
"I love you too."
The ring burned white.
Power surged through their joined hands.
And Mila stepped forward, facing Calder with the full weight of that truth behind her.
"You're done feeding on fear," she said. "Your bloodline ends with us."
---
The ritual activated.
The chamber walls screamed. Spirits scattered into flame. Calder roared, voice cracking with fury.
He raised a hand—
And a spear of shadow shot toward Mila.
She didn't move.
But Elias did.
He threw himself in front of her.
The spear hit his side, slicing through with brutal force.
"Elias!" Mila screamed, catching him as he fell.
He gritted his teeth. "Finish it… Mila…"
Tears blurred her vision.
She stood over him, blood on her hands, the ring glowing in her palm.
Then she turned to Calder, lifted the dagger she'd carried since the garden, and drove it into the heart of the ritual circle.
A blinding light exploded through the chamber.
Calder screamed — not in pain, but in rage, as the earth swallowed him whole.
Then silence.
And darkness.
---
When Mila opened her eyes again, the chamber was still.
No spirits. No magic.
Just Elias — bleeding in her arms.
"No," she whispered, pressing her hands to the wound. "No no no—"
His eyes fluttered. "Hey… don't cry…"
"I can't lose you," she sobbed. "Not after everything."
"You won't," he whispered.
And then — somehow — the ring flared again.
The runes in the wall glowed gold.
The house had accepted her.
Not just as a fighter.
As a mistress.
A queen.
And the house gave her what she asked for.
Elias's wounds began to knit closed. Slowly. Painfully.
But he lived.
---
Hours later, the manor was silent.
The remaining Ashbourne traitors had vanished into the wind.
The loyal guards bowed when Mila entered the hall — not out of duty, but respect.
She wasn't just Elias's girl anymore.
She was part of the Ashbourne legacy.
On her own terms.
---
Elias found her on the rooftop balcony that night, wrapped in one of his shirts, watching the stars.
He sat beside her, hand brushing hers.
"You saved me," he said softly.
"No," Mila said. "We saved each other."
He looked at her.
Really looked.
"I want you to stay," he said. "Not because of the contract. Not because of the house. But because I don't know how to breathe without you anymore."
She smiled, and leaned into him.
"I'm not going anywhere."