Jack watched Kleo spring into action, her white blade carving through the air with lethal precision. Her strike was true, but the witch was fast—inhumanly fast—and the blade barely grazed her throat, leaving a shallow, weeping cut.

  The witch cracked her neck, her pale lips curling into a grotesque smile as if welcoming the challenge. Her blackened tongue flicked out, twisting through the air, weaving an incantation that summoned dark tendrils from the shadows. The tendrils lashed out, wrapping around Kleo’s leg and yanking her off her feet.

  Kleo hit the ground hard, the impact stealing her breath. The witch lunged, but Kleo’s legs snapped up, delivering a forceful kick to the witch’s chest. The impact sent the witch stumbling back, only to trip over Jack’s outstretched leg.

  Jack grinned from the floor, giving Kleo an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Helping!" he rasped.

  Kleo shot him an exasperated glare, shaking her head as she scrambled to her feet.

  "A little more would be nice?" she muttered as she rushed past him, her blade poised to strike again.

  Jack coughed and rolled onto his side. "What? I just tripped her! That’s helping."

  Kleo’s strikes were relentless, but the witch parried each with dark elegance. Her tongue flicked again, drawing shapes in the air, summoning barriers of shadow that deflected Kleo’s blade with bursts of purple sparks. The witch’s tongue wove enchantments relentlessly overwhelming Kleo's defenses. With every move, Kleo grew more desperate, her strikes increasingly wild.

  Then, the room plunged into darkness.

  Jack froze. He couldn’t see his hand before his face, let alone the battle raging feet away. He could hear Kleo grunting, the witch hissing, and the eerie echoes of their clash reverberating across the chamber.

  Dammit, Jack, he thought, guilt gnawing at him as he realized what he had to do.

  Ignoring his promise to Kleo, he drew on the mana at his core, summoning an orb of light. It flickered into existence above his head, illuminating the immediate area but failing to penetrate the oppressive darkness beyond. He placed the orb high over his head like a torch and stepped cautiously toward the sounds of the fray.

  The sounds of battle danced through the blackness, and he struggled to orient himself. As he approached Kleo, the haze of shadow began to lift. Jack steered through the gloom until he saw them—Kleo and the witch, locked in a deadly struggle.

  Kleo stood over the witch, her blade raised high, ready to deliver a decisive strike. The witch lay prone, her hands up in a feigned gesture of surrender. Jack’s eyes widened as the witch’s long serpent-like tongue slithered out, writhing as it began forming another spell. He could see it coming—Kleo’s attack would be countered, and the tide would turn once again.

  A strange sensation hit Jack, a spark of reckless inspiration. He knew this was it—the coolest thing he’d ever do.

  He launched forward, dropping to his knees, letting his momentum carry him across the slick stone floor. The witch’s head snapped toward him, her hollow eyes widening in surprise. As he reached her, Jack’s left hand darted out, grabbing the vile tongue mid-incantation. The slick, disgusting appendage writhed in his grasp, but he held tight, jerking it hard enough to make the witch’s body arch. With a triumphant yell, Jack brought his dagger down in a swift, smooth arc, severing the tongue with a single strike.

  The witch shrieked in rage as Jack’s momentum carried him past her. He sprang to his feet, tossing the severed tongue over his shoulder with exaggerated flair.

  "You’re welcome," he called to Kleo, a grin splitting his face.

  Kleo stared between horror and admiration before snapping back into action. She darted around the witch, her blade glowing with radiant power. For the first time, the witch seemed shaken.

  But it wasn’t over.

  The witch let out a guttural roar, bile and blood spewing from her ruined mouth as she lunged at Jack. Skittering across the floor, her claw-like hands closed around his ankle, yanking him off balance. He hit the ground hard, the air rushing from his lungs as the witch crawled atop him. Her skeletal hand pinned his right arm, rendering his dagger useless. Her other hand drew back, claws ready to deliver a killing blow.

  Jack’s heart thundered in his chest. He raised his left arm instinctively, knowing it wouldn’t stop the death blow.

  Then Kleo appeared, her hand clamped around the witch’s wrist, halting the blow mid-swing. Then she struck, the radiant light surging from her blade as she plunged it deep into the witch’s side. The witch’s head tilted forward, her forehead pressed against the floor as she screamed in agony, her voice fractured and broken, as the light burned through her body.

  Jack saw the fear in the witch’s eyes, and she clawed desperately at the ground as an unbearable pain tore through her body.

  For a moment, he thought it was finally over.

  Then the witch struck—her head snapping backward in a vicious headbutt that connected with Kleo’s temple. The crack of bone echoed through the chamber, and Kleo crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

  Jack’s world narrowed to Kleo’s still form. His breath hitched, panic surging through him.

  "No," he whispered. Then, louder: "No!"

  The witch turned toward him, her mangled face twisting into a wicked grin. Jack’s blood turned to ice.

  This was the end.

  Kleo lay motionless on the cold stone floor, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Jack knew she was alive, feeling the connection of her mana pulsing in time with his own. But she was down and out. He knew she would not get up before the fight was over.

  The sorceress, her pale, twisted form wreathed in shadow, stood and advanced on him with deadly intent. He was no match for her, even after the damage she sustained, and he knew it. The end of his life—and, by extension, Kleo’s—was only moments away.

  There was no time to weigh options. There was no chance to calculate the cost. Desperation coursed through him like fire, and with a groan of effort, Jack reached into the bond that tied him to Kleo. He pulled on her mana with reckless abandon, drawing it into himself, feeling it surge through his core like an unrelenting tide. The power tore at him, wild and uncontrollable, stretching him well beyond his limits.

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  The sorceress let out a wail, her grotesque voice echoing off the walls as she lunged toward him. Jack braced himself close to the wall, waiting until the last moment. His body shook, the overwhelming energy threatening to break him apart, but he didn’t falter.

  Wait for it.

  As she closed the distance, he threw himself forward, leaping with every ounce of strength he had left. They collided with bone-jarring force, her claws raking at him as his legs wrapped around her waist, locking her in place. Her momentum carried them into the wall, and Jack seized the moment, grasping her head with both hands and pushing his thumbs into the hollow pits where her eyes had once been.

  "Take it," he growled through gritted teeth. "Take it all!"

  He unleashed the mana in a torrent, pouring it into her with no restraint, no thought for what it might do to him. The effect was instant and horrific as her skin began to bubble and melt beneath his hands, the vile stench of burning flesh filling the air. Her mouth opened in a piercing scream, black bile spurting from her nostrils and ears as her hair and flesh sloughed away in chunks. The castrated stump of her tongue writhed grotesquely as she fought against the finality of her destruction.

  Jack held on, his grip tightening as she thrashed and clawed at him. The mana burned through him, a wildfire raging inside his veins. His nerves screamed in agony, his muscles spasming uncontrollably, but he refused to let go. He would not stop—not until she was dead, even if it meant he would join her in hell.

  Time blurred. Jack felt he was watching the scene from outside his body as if he were a detached observer of the macabre tableau. The dark witch’s form twisted and contorted, her blackened bones emerging from the sludge of her liquefied flesh. His own body shook violently, and he felt like he was on the verge of disintegration. He could no longer distinguish where he ended, and the energy of the mana began.

  Then, with a final, gut-wrenching spasm, the sorceress went still. Her body collapsed into a steaming heap of rot and ash, the last of her wretched existence pooling at Jack’s feet.

  Jack looked at Kleo and saw that she was looking at him, sheer terror on her face. Then Jack crumpled to the floor beside the remains of the witch.

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  His vision swam, darkness encroaching at the edges. Was this death? Or was he standing on its precipice, looking down? It felt like a choice, and for a moment, he thought it didn’t matter, but then he realized the truth: he wanted more time with Kleo.

  The witch is dead. I want to live*.*

  Kleo is alive. I want to live*.*

  Goddess, I want to live*.*

  Then darkness took him.

  As Jack collapsed, Kleo caught him, easing him down until his back rested against the cold, damp stone wall. He groaned, his body limp in her arms, his breath shallow and uneven. The fight had drained them both, but Jack had taken the brunt of the damage—most of it self-inflicted. It had been reckless but was also the only reason they were still alive.

  If he’d asked her for permission, she would have said No. It’s too risky. And if she’d said no, they’d both be dead. The thought filled her with conflicting emotions: gratitude for his bravery, anger at his foolishness, and a deep, aching worry that threatened to choke her. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, the gesture tender and desperate. His head lolled, his eyes fluttering open before closing again.

  "Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me."

  He made a faint noise in response, something between a grunt and a sigh. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her going.

  Kleo leaned back against the wall beside him, every movement sending sharp pain shooting through her body, and the ache in her head throbbed with every beat of her heart. Her injuries weren’t severe, but they were numerous, and exhaustion clawed at her like a ravenous beast.

  They weren’t going anywhere tonight; she knew that much. They both needed rest, but Jack’s condition terrified her. In his heroic desperation, he had poisoned himself with mana. Mana Sickness wasn’t something she had much experience with, and what little she did know wasn’t comforting. His recovery wouldn’t be quick, and it wouldn’t be easy.

  Her gaze swept the grim interior of the sorceress’s castle. Shadows loomed in the corners, and the faint smell of decay clung to the air. Every creak and distant sound set her nerves on edge. This place was steeped in darkness, its walls humming with residual malice. It wasn’t safe, and every instinct screamed at her to leave—but moving Jack in his condition was impossible. For now, they were trapped.

  And then there was the wolf.

  Kleo’s hand tightened around the hilt of her dagger as she thought of the beast. The enchantress was gone, sent back to whatever hell she’d come from, but the wolf… it was still out there. Its monstrous presence had shadowed their journey to this godforsaken lair. If it returned now, while Jack was defenseless and she could barely stand, their odds weren’t good.

  All she knew was that it was near. She had felt its presence during the final moments of the battle, when the sorceress wailed and screamed, her jerking death throes a horrific scene that Kleo would never forget.

  Now, the wolf's presence was gone, and something had changed. The dark aura was dissipating. Although the air was still heavy with the sorceress’s lingering power, it had lost some of its oppressive weight. It was as if her death had lifted a veil—one that had clouded not only the wolf’s mind but its heart. Kleo couldn’t be sure. The beast might still be a threat, or it might be something else entirely.

  She sighed, her head falling back against the wall.

  "Goddess," she murmured, "if you’re listening, we could really use a break right now."

  Jack stirred weakly beside her, his fingers brushing against hers. She squeezed his hand gently, her voice soft but firm.

  “Rest, Jack. I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me. Let me worry about you.”

  He barely managed to lift his arm, pointing toward the door. Kleo’s blood ran cold as her eyes followed his gesture.

  The wolf.

  It stood in the doorway, its massive black frame silhouetted by the faint light of the moon spilling through the castle’s broken windows. A low, rumbling growl emanated from its throat, fangs bared in an unmistakable warning. Yet… something was different. The fierce glow of its purple eyes was gone, replaced by a steady, golden yellow. Its posture was still threatening, but there was a hesitation in its movements, a flicker of uncertainty.

  Little more than a rasp, Jack muttered, “Maybe you shouldn’t have kicked him in the balls. He looks… Bitter.”

  Kleo couldn’t help the exhausted snort that escaped her, but the weight of reality replaced it. Dragging herself to her feet, she drew her dagger. The wolf’s reappearance wasn’t ideal—hell, it was the last thing she needed—but at this point, what was one more fight? She was battered, bruised, and utterly spent, and if this overgrown mutt thought it could take her, it clearly didn’t understand just how few fucks she had left to give.

  “I swear to the Goddess,” Kleo muttered, her voice low and dangerous, “if this thing tries anything, I’m cutting it down. I don’t care if I have to die doing it.”

  The wolf growled again, stepping forward, its muscles rippling beneath its black fur. Kleo matched its step with one of her own, baring her teeth defiantly. The wolf froze, its golden eyes narrowing in confusion. When Kleo growled back—a raw, guttural sound she didn’t know she was capable of—it flinched, its aggression faltering.

  Surprised by its reaction, Kleo decided to push further. She took another step forward, waving her dagger wildly in front of her. “You want some more? Come on, you demonic asshole! I’m not holding back this time.”

  Then, because exhaustion had taken her sanity hostage, she made the most absurd gesture of her life. Dropping her free hand to her waist, she mimed elongating an imaginary appendage with an exaggerated flourish. With a theatrical sweep of her dagger, she pantomimed slicing it off, then flung the nonexistent piece over her shoulder with dramatic flair.

  “That’s how it’s gonna go this time!” she barked, glaring at the wolf. Her voice cracked as she stumbled back, wobbling unsteadily on her legs.

  “Let’s go! I’m ready, you bastard!”

  The wolf stared at her, utterly bewildered. Its growl faded, and its posture slackened. It sat back on its haunches, its head tilting as if it couldn’t quite believe what it saw. Its golden eyes fixed on her, its expression one of curiosity.

  Kleo blinked, lowering her dagger. “That’s right, bitch,” she muttered, her voice still trembling with adrenaline. “Back off.”

  Jack, despite his weakness, let out a faint laugh. “Pretty sure he got the message.”

  She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “He better hope so. I’ve been through too much shit today to let some oversized hairball push me around.”

  The wolf made a faint huffing sound—almost like a sigh—and lay down, its body relaxing on the ground. For a long moment, Kleo and the wolf stared at each other, an unspoken understanding settling between them.

  “Well,” she said finally, her voice tinged with reluctant awe. “I guess we’re not killing each other after all.”

  “Great,” Jack rasped, his smile faint but genuine. “Now, can you come sit down? I don’t want to die alone.”

  Kleo rolled her eyes, lowering the dagger.

  “You’re not dying, you idiot, but the next time you try to marry another woman, I will make sure you do.”

  Jack coughed out a weak laugh. “Fair.”