Fog smothered Wormwood Forest, thick enough to choke on. The trees loomed skeletal, their twisted arms clawing at the night sky.
Tempers frayed. Hegmar, already strung taut with paranoia, finally snapped and clashed with Felson. Their shouting forced Behmen to call a halt. They camped in the mist, hoping tempers—and the cursed fog—would lift.
Li Feng, exhausted, didn't climb onto the prison cart for another midnight "lesson." That, at least, put Hegmar at ease. If not for Li Feng and Mordo keeping their nightly vigil, Hegmar would have already slit the girl's throat.
But tonight the fire burned steady, and both sorcerers sat beside it. Hegmar saw his chance.
In the dead of night, crossbow in hand, he crept toward the cage. But Behmen, woken by uneasy dreams, caught him. Steel clashed as the two men grappled—one intent on killing the witch, the other on seeing her judged at Severac.
The struggle jolted Li Feng awake. He rubbed his eyes, then froze at Mordo's whisper.
"You feel that?"
Li Feng nodded. "Summoning residue. Weak, but familiar. Should we warn them?"
Mordo didn't hesitate. He surged to his feet and shouted: "Beasts nearby!" His staff glowed as he vaulted atop the cart, glaring at the girl. "What did you summon this time, fiend? Can't I get one night's rest?"
The demon looked offended. He'd only wanted to show a spark of power, prove his worth as a "witch." But doubt and suspicion clung to him no matter what he did.
Feigning innocence, he spread his hands. "You're clever—you know the wolves won't touch this cart. Safer in here than out there."
Behmen stiffened as the howls echoed. Wolves, circling. Not natural. Controlled. His suspicion hardened when the girl smirked through the bars.
Controlled was better than ravenous, he told himself. Controlled, he could fight.
Mordo slammed his staff against the cart. "Call them off, or I bleed you here."
The demon's tone turned sly. "I spent everything summoning them. Driving them away isn't an option. But it's just a handful—surely you can manage. And perhaps a gift for my student." He winked at Li Feng. "Wolveskin makes a fine cloak. Their meat, a feast compared to that bread you choke down."
Li Feng ignored him. His focus locked on a wolf breaking through the mist. It lunged. He slid aside and cut down with his enchanted blade, splitting the beast in two.
The fight was short and brutal. Blood soaked the dirt. The summoned wolves lay dead.
Then came the second chorus of howls—closer, sharper, more numerous.
Behmen's jaw tightened. "Mount up!"
They rode hard. Wolves darted ahead, leaping from a rise. One struck Hegmar's horse, dragging him down. The man screamed as teeth tore into flesh.
Mordo, balanced on the cart roof, felt it—the flicker of corruption in Hegmar's soul. Then, impossibly, Hegmar roared, heaving a wolf from his shoulder and smashing it dead with bare hands.
Behmen charged to aid him, blade flashing. Felson saw the wolves flinch—their eyes wide with animal panic. They'd lost too many. The pack broke, fleeing into the fog.
Hegmar slumped unconscious, soaked in blood but breathing. Li Feng frowned. That shouldn't have been possible. He should've been dead. Butterfly wings, he thought uneasily. Did my presence shift the script?
He shook it off. Dead or alive, what did it matter?
Behmen dragged the guide onto the cart, binding his wounds roughly. They pressed on, wary of wolves circling back.
At last, dawn burned the mist thin. Wormwood Forest spat them out, bleak and scarred.
Behmen, still seething, raised his crossbow at the witch.
Li Feng raised a hand first, pointing ahead. "Look. Severac Monastery."
Through the mist, the silhouette loomed on its mountain—grim walls and towering spires.
Behmen lowered his weapon reluctantly.
From the cart roof, Mordo studied Hegmar. The man's soul flickered like a dying ember. Whatever rode in him now—it wasn't Hegmar anymore.
Then his gaze lifted to the monastery gates. Etched across the stone walls, invisible to mortal eyes, wards shimmered with power.
Li Feng squinted. "No clue what I'm looking at."
Mordo leaned forward, voice low with awe. "The reason the demon never dared approach. The gate's warded. Like the three Sanctums—but smaller, focused. Think of it as a scanner. Outside, it stops him. Inside, useless."
His eyes narrowed, intrigued. "And the energy fueling it… it isn't arcane. It feels like faith."
Faith-fueled wards made sense. In a world where the Church towered over kings, divine power was currency, and a monastery housing the Key of Solomon would be locked down with more than mortar and prayers.
When Behmen's knock went unanswered, Kai scrambled up the wall and unbarred the gate.
The convoy rolled into Severac, finding only silence. No monks. No pilgrims. Just the cold echo of abandoned halls.
In the cart, the demon smirked at the vaulted arches like greeting old friends. Li Feng's hand hovered near his burning sword. Mordo's staff glowed faintly, his stance coiled tight.
Tension spread like fire. Felson's hand drifted to his blade. Behmen's eyes narrowed. Trust was in short supply.
At the cathedral doors, Felson tied off the horses while the priest, desperate to prove himself, rushed inside. With a grimace, Behmen followed.
That left the courtyard: Felson, Kai, Li Feng, and Mordo.
Li Feng pointed his sword at the cage. "Sir Knight, I'd sleep easier if that steel pointed at the demon, not at me."
"Demon?" Felson frowned. The Church had called her a witch.
Inside, the girl stiffened. She'd meant to wait until the priest returned with the Key, then unveil her true form. But her own student had unmasked her first.
Her gaze cut toward Hegmar on the driver's bench—then she laughed, sharp and shattering. Flames erupted around her hands, bars dripping molten.
"For centuries," she thundered, "you hanged and burned all who defied your greed. Hell thanks you for every soul you sent us. Now—taste your reward!"
She never finished. Li Feng's blade flared, carving through fire. "Spare me the monologue," he snapped. "You're not paid by the word."
Felson froze, sword trembling as the girl's face twisted into something inhuman. Kai bolted for the cathedral, shouting for Behmen.
Felson swallowed. "Well. That's a story for the grandchildren." He side-eyed Mordo. "Your friend's got a flaming sword. You packing monk fists?"
Mordo's answer was a crack of his staff—against Hegmar.
Felson jolted. "The guide? What—"
Hegmar's body twisted, joints bending too far, tongue flickering forked. "Hunters," he hissed. "Do you know what it costs to keep a body this intact? And you dare strike it?"
Felson didn't need explaining. Even he saw it now: Hegmar was claimed.
Li Feng's eyes narrowed. "So that's why the wolves only mauled you. You were already gone."
Mordo ground his teeth. He remembered Li Feng's warning—the plague could only be purged by ritual. Kill the demon here, and they might doom the world. So he fought to contain, not destroy. The effort left his arms shaking.
Inside the cathedral, Behmen and the priest found nothing but corpses, monks shriveled by plague. The priest cracked, ranting, until one survivor gasped his last breath and pointed them to the Key of Solomon.
Then Kai burst in, wild-eyed. "The witch—she's changed! Mordo and Li Feng are fighting demons!"
"Demons—plural?" Behmen seized the grimoire and ran, the others close behind.
The instant they spilled into the courtyard, Mordo slammed his staff down. Space folded, and the mirror dimension locked into place. Walls shimmered, trapping everyone inside—knight, priest, sorcerers, demons.
Felson staggered as reality warped. Mordo's staff blazed. "Deborsak! Begin the ritual! Li Feng, take the fragment—the body's mine!"
The demon hissed. A mirror dimension here? Impossible. This plane severed his tether to Hell. No reinforcements. No endless well. Just what he carried in this vessel.
On one flank, Li Feng and Behmen pressed the cage-born fragment. Felson noticed it: the thing flinched from Li Feng's sword, but shrugged off Behmen's steel.
Li Feng drove a shallow cut, sweat dripping. "See? With real swordsmanship, it'd already be kindling. I told you to teach me!"
Behmen snarled back, blades clashing. "And I told you—ten years earlier, maybe. Your form's an insult. My neighbor's blind grandmother swings straighter."
The demon groaned. "You two bicker like children."
Pressed back, Behmen spat. "My blade's useless. Any ideas?"
"Bless it, baptize it—hell, just use mine." Li Feng shoved his flaming sword into Behmen's grip and pulled out a deck of cards. "I'll play mage."
Cards whipped through the air, blazing arcs of light. Behmen tested the sword, fire crawling his arm, and grinned. "Now this is a weapon." He charged.
Together, they tore the projection apart. Its scream shredded into nothing as the fragment dissolved.
Only then did Li Feng turn to Mordo's fight.
Hegmar—the true body—fought like a beast, shrugging off strike after strike.
When Li Feng's eyes met his, the demon rasped, "My student. Such a perfect vessel. Why waste it? I gave you spells, and you never cast one."
The poison landed. Behmen, Kai, even Felson turned sharp eyes on Li Feng. Only the priest kept chanting, clutching the Key.
Li Feng sighed, flicking another card. "Really? You're going to play that angle? And Behmen—pointing my own blade at me? That's low." He snapped the card toward Hegmar. "You taught me tricks, yes. All traps. Spells with leashes, spells with trackers. What's next—one that butt-dials me at midnight?"
His grin was cold. "You want my body? You'll choke on it."
The priest faltered. No divine light answered. The demon laughed. Amateurs. The grimoire wasn't a weapon—it was a phone. The words were the number. Faith, the line. But inside the mirror dimension?
The signal was cut.
No call would ever go through.
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