The following day, the abbey hummed with quiet energy. Bart and Tholomew bustled about in the kitchen, arranging dishes and setting the table for five. Even Antonio, usually buried in his research, was up early, meticulously arranging candles in the main room. He muttered to himself as he adjusted their alignment, his quest for perfection getting the better of him.

  Jack and Kleo slept in, savoring the rare luxury of a slow morning. They lay entwined, sharing warmth and whispered words. Bitter had disappeared into the night and hadn't returned by the time they finally rose, though this wasn’t unusual for him.

  During the night, Kleo experienced the strange, rhythmic pulse—clearer and more insistent this time, the intervals between beats shorter. Jack, as before, had felt nothing. Though they discussed it briefly, neither could make sense of its meaning, so they set it aside for another time.

  Jack immediately glanced at the sky when they finally dressed and emerged from the cottage. "Looks like rain."

  Kleo followed his gaze, the clouds above a patchwork of gray. "At least we won’t be on the road. It feels like we should stay another night or two. Apart from... everything, that was the best sleep I’ve had in a while."

  Jack smiled. Her nights had been turbulent lately, and seeing her rested, even a little, lightened his heart.

  Bart saw the pair approaching and stepped outside to greet them, wiping his hands on his apron.

  "Morning, you two. How’d you sleep?"

  “Well, actually,” Kleo said, her tone bright. “Best sleep I’ve had in weeks.”

  “Glad to hear it." Bart's grin turned mischievous. "By the way, I tried to keep Antonio from pestering you last night, but he was determined. Luckily, Bitter convinced him otherwise."

  Jack and Kleo exchanged raised eyebrows, then smirked.

  “Speaking of Bitter,” Jack said, scanning the courtyard, “we haven’t seen him this morning. I hope he doesn’t show up and scare anyone—especially your brother or the priest.”

  Bart’s grin widened. "Shame if he spooked Antonio. Truly a shame.” His tone dripped with mock sincerity. “Well, come on in. Everything’s ready, and I hope you’re hungry."

  Jack clapped Bart on the back. “Bart, I’m always hungry.”

  The three entered the abbey, their laughter warming the cool morning air.

  The dining room table offered a feast for the senses: roasted lamb, tender vegetables, and assorted soft cheeses. Baskets of brown and white bread flanked small bowls of freshly churned butter, while a large bowl of coarse greens—glistening with olive oil—anchored the center of the spread.

  Jack and Kleo met Tholomew, Bart's identical twin. While the brothers looked exactly alike, their personalities diverged sharply—Tholomew exuded a gentle demeanor that contrasted with Bart's wry pragmatism. They all waited for Antonio, whose frustrated mutterings echoed from the main room, accompanied by heavy objects scraping against stone.

  When Antonio finally appeared, the newcomers stood to make their introductions. The priest was a wiry man of average height with a sharp nose and squinting eyes, giving him the look of a hawk searching for prey. His thin face bore the lines of age, yet he moved with a nervous energy contradicting his years.

  Antonio's gaze lingered on Jack and Kleo, his eyes narrowing as if he were appraising their worth. Then, he clapped Bart on the back. “Excellent work, Bart! Truly excellent. Let’s not waste time—I’m eager to hear about our guests and share our work here.”

  With that, everyone sat, diving into the feast. Plates filled quickly, the smell of roasted lamb mingling with the earthy tang of fresh bread and butter.

  Antonio wasted no time turning the meal into an interrogation, his questions sharp but curious.

  “So, where are you two from?”

  Kleo, sensing Jack was mid-bite, stepped in smoothly.

  “We’re from Cabal. Newlyweds, we are on a honeymoon adventure, making our way to Ilimar.”

  Antonio leaned forward, his eyes glittering with interest. “An adventurous choice. And what brings you through this area? We don’t get many visitors.”

  “The river,” Kleo replied, her tone light and conversational. “Traveling alongside it made sense for us. Plenty of fish, easy navigation—aside from a nasty storm a few weeks ago, it’s been smooth sailing.”

  “Ah yes, that storm was quite something. How are you feeling about staying here so far? Bart has been accommodating, I hope?”

  “Very much so,” Kleo said with a warm smile. “We had a peaceful night’s rest, and Bart’s stew was the highlight of our day. He’s been a wonderful host.”

  Antonio nodded. “Good, good. And he’s told you about our mission here?”

  Sitting across the table, Bart froze mid-chew, his face a study in careful neutrality.

  “The Cult of Morghadus,” Kleo said. “Yes, he gave us an overview—something about summoning the demon to establish a new world order? Very ambitious.” She paused as if considering her words.

  “From what I understand, Morghadus commands around sixty legions of demons in the netherworld. Is that correct?”

  Antonio’s chest puffed outward.

  "Ah, well, some texts suggest as many as ninety legions. It’s an area of scholarly debate. I’ve spent years curating a library of sources—if you’re interested, I’d be delighted to show you after the meal.”

  Kleo’s expression lit up. “I would love that. I’ve only had access to a few books on demon histories. Your collection must be extraordinary.”

  Bart and Tholomew exchanged glances, their lips twitching as they tried to suppress knowing smiles. Jack caught their look and smirked. Kleo’s flattery was effortless, weaving a web of admiration that Antonio fell into without a second thought.

  As the meal wound down, Antonio stood.

  “It’s settled, then. Kleo will accompany me to my library, and I shall impart some of my knowledge of Morghadus. The rest of you can tidy up and show Jack around the grounds.”

  Jack grinned. “I want to see the goat pit.”

  Antonio blinked, taken aback by the request, but quickly recovered.

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  “Ah, the pit. Essential for our offerings, of course. Very well, Bart or Tholomew can show you.”

  The priest’s expression grew solemn as he clasped his hands.

  “And now for an announcement. We are finally ready. At the twenty-third hour, we shall conduct the sacred ritual to summon Morghadus. All of you are required to attend—our success hinges on each of us fulfilling our roles. This will be a night to remember.”

  Antonio bowed grandly, then gestured for Kleo to follow him.

  “Come, my dear, let me show you the wonders of the abbey.”

  As the priest led Kleo away, Bart, Tholomew, and Jack exchanged bemused looks.

  “This should be good,” Tholomew said with dry humor.

  “Probably the only entertainment we’ll have for months,” Bart added.

  Jack laughed. “Now the goat pit, and tonight we’ll see what the great Antonio has in store for us.”

  With that, the three men cleared the table, their spirits buoyed by the absurdity of the night's promise.

  Jack was bouncing with excitement as they finally headed outside. The twins exchanged confused glances, baffled by his enthusiasm but happy to indulge their new friend.

  As they made their way toward the goat pit, Bitter came bounding from the direction of the cottage, tongue lolling and legs churning at a speed that made Tholomew take a step back in alarm.

  Bart caught his brother’s arm, steadying him.

  When Bitter reached them, his pace slowed to a cautious walk. His head tilted, and his eyes darted back and forth between Bart and Tholomew, clearly puzzled.

  Jack chuckled. “He thinks he’s seeing double. You two look exactly alike, and you’re wearing matching outfits. Poor guy has no idea what’s going on.”

  Jack placed a hand on Bart’s shoulder.

  “Bitter, this is Bart. You remember Bart from last night, right?”

  Then, turning to Tholomew, he added, “And this is Tholomew—Thol for short. You haven’t met Thol yet, so I can see why you’d think two Barts were running around.”

  Bart gave a friendly wave. “Hello, Bitter. Nice to see you again.”

  Tholomew, still wary, gave a stiff nod. “Uh, hi, Bitter. Aren’t you… a big boy?”

  Jack patted the wolf’s side. “See? Nothing to worry about. Now let’s go see the goat pit.”

  With an enthusiastic clap, Jack led the way. “No more interruptions, let’s do this!”

  The brothers followed but stopped a respectful distance from the pit. Bart gestured forward.

  “We’ve seen it plenty. Go ahead, Jack, you and Bitter, take a look.”

  Jack nodded and started toward the hole, Bitter trotting at his side. He paused about ten feet from the edge, scrunching his nose.

  “I didn’t realize goats smelled so bad.”

  Tholomew shrugged. “Yeah, these goats smell particularly bad.”

  Jack nodded. “What kind are they?”

  “They were mostly alpine goats,” Bart said with a straight face. “Find them in the hills. Mostly bucks, so they smell even worse.”

  “Ah, I guess that makes sense,” Jack said, continuing forward. Then he stopped again, turning back to face them.

  “Wait—you said they were alpine goats. What kind are they now?”

  Bart grinned, barely containing his laughter. “The dead and rotting kind.”

  Jack blinked, processing this. “Wait, so the goat pit is where you toss dead goats and let them… decompose?”

  “Exactly. What did you think it was?” Bart asked, his voice teetering on the edge of laughter.

  “Well, you’ll probably find this funny, but…” Jack trailed off, realizing his mistake as the brothers erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

  Bart doubled over, tears streaming down his face, while Tholomew fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.

  “You… you thought it was a pen? Like where we keep the goats and let them run around?” Tholomew gasped between wheezing laughs.

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Kind of…honest mistake, right?”

  The laughter only intensified. Jack tried to join in, but the overwhelming stench near the pit made him gag. He turned and jogged back to the brothers, who were now leaning into each other for support, still howling.

  “Oh man,” Jack muttered, his face flushed. “I’m never going to live this down, am I? Promise me you won’t tell Kleo. I mean it—you have to promise.”

  Bart wheezed out, “No guarantees,” before collapsing into laughter again, his brother joining him in a fresh fit of hysterics.

  Even Jack couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

  “Unbelievable. A pit full of dead goats. What kind of life am I living?”

  Bitter gave a low huff, unimpressed by all of them, and trotted toward the cottage, leaving Jack humiliated.

  When Kleo returned to the cottage, Jack was resting on the bed. “How was your afternoon with your new best friends?”

  “Well, the goat pit was a bit disappointing, but other than that, we had a good time. I like both of them. Their life in Ilimar was much like what I experienced growing up in Cabal. I get why they want to be out here, even if they have to put up with Antonio. He’s a bit self-important for my liking. By the way, how was your time with Antonio? Learn anything interesting?”

  "I learned that his library is the only thing impressive about the man.”

  Jack nodded, “Yeah, the guys and I are expecting quite the flop tonight. It should be interesting, don’t you think?”

  Kleo thought about this.

  “He’s closer than the brothers gave him credit for. He isn’t a complete idiot, just blind to his failings. He was missing a key step and misinterpreting one critical phrase of the ritual, so I pushed him in the right direction.”

  Jack’s voice shot up an octave. “You did what?”

  “I gave him a little push in the right direction,” Kleo said, her tone calm but measured. “He was going to figure it out eventually. Better he figures it out while we’re here, right?”

  Jack waved his arms frantically. “No. I don’t see how that’s better at all.”

  “Okay, handsome, calm down. If we’re not here and Antonio somehow manages to summon Morghadus, the demon will pull Antonio, Bart, and Tholomew straight to some forsaken hell for all eternity.”

  "What about the ninety legions of demons rampaging across the world?"

  "It doesn't work that way at all. When humans don't understand something, they make up nonsense, and then self-important men like Antonio repeat it until everyone accepts it as truth. Most of the demon history books written by humans are pure fiction.”

  "Besides, Bart and Tholomew are your friends—do you want to leave the abbey knowing that Antonio might succeed and thus doom them all?"

  Jack frowned, mulling over her words.

  “Bart does make a good lamb stew,” he muttered.

  He still wasn’t happy, but he could see her point.

  “So… if Antonio summons this Morghadus, you're going to fight it?”

  “Oh, Jack,” Kleo said, shaking her head with exaggerated disappointment.

  “If he summons Morghadus, we are going to fight it. Okay?”

  “Okay? No. Not okay.” Jack threw his hands up.

  “Were you in the woods yesterday when I was fighting goblins with my pants around my ankles, weaponless, except for the sword between my legs?”

  Kleo tried—and failed—to stifle a giggle.

  “Yes, I was there. And honestly? It was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.”

  Her tone and look in her eyes made it obvious she was lying, and they both knew it. Jack shook his head, trying to picture the scene from her perspective. Despite himself, a grin tugged at his lips.

  They started laughing—soft chuckles that grew into full-blown belly laughs. Finally catching her breath, Kleo added, “I mean, sword seems like a bit of an exaggeration. Maybe a dagger?”

  Jack rolled his eyes but kept laughing. The tension eased, at least for the moment.

  His smile faded as reality settled back in. “What if I do something stupid like that against a demon? What if I screw it up—badly?”

  “You won’t,” Kleo said, her tone turning firm.

  “You didn’t screw up against the Dark Witch. I was there, Jack. I saw it all. You were brilliant. A little reckless at the end, but you did what needed to be done.”

  Jack hesitated, guilt flickering across his face.

  “I made mistakes against the Dark Witch. Big ones. Right from the start—like when I stabbed her in the chest on the altar.”

  Kleo’s head snapped back, her eyes wide with shock. She grabbed Jack by the shoulders, her fingers gripping tightly as she stared into his eyes.

  “You remember that?”

  Jack scratched his head, a flicker of amusement in his voice.

  “Yeah, I do. I stabbed her, and it didn’t do a damn thing. Then I froze. Didn’t she throat-punch me right after that?”

  His hand instinctively rose to his neck, and he winced as though reliving the pain. “Gods, you wouldn’t believe how much that hurt. I thought for sure I was going to suffocate.”

  Kleo’s expression turned serious, her voice low and urgent. “Are you sure it’s a real memory? Do you remember anything else?”

  “It’s real—I know it is. But no, I don’t think I remember anything else. Why does it even matter right now?”

  Jack threw up his hands in exasperation. “We’re talking about fighting a demon. That feels a little more pressing, don’t you think?”

  Kleo smirked. “First of all, I have a basic plan. Aren’t you impressed?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow, wary but curious. “Kind of. Let’s hear it.”

  “Fine. You do what you do best—use your force spell to keep him off balance. Distract him.”

  “Okay… and?”

  “I’ll do what I do best: deal out lethal damage. What do you think?”

  Jack blinked, deadpan. “I think we’re both going to die.”

  Kleo grinned, unfazed. “So, you’re in?”

  Jack let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Sure. Why not? Do you want me to show you the goat pit before a demon devours your soul?”

  Kleo burst into laughter, shaking her head as she hugged him. “Absolutely not.”