“Stay sharp,” Rikard muttered, his grip tight around his sword. His breathing was steady, his stance firm. He wasn’t afraid.

  His eyes tracked the darkness, focused, calg.

  “I see it move,” he whispered. “I track it. We’ve wou before—that means it die.”

  Across the fire, the creature hissed, its unnatural, too-wide mouth peeling open.

  It knew.

  It kneeren’t just another meal.

  We weren’t easy prey.

  And I’d make damn sure to keep it that way.

  Rikard moved first, and I followed without hesitation.

  The creature lunged, but Rikard was already trag it, eyes flig with every unnatural twitch of its body.

  “Left! Now!”

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I swung with everything I had—felt the bite of steel sinking into flesh.

  The creature screamed.

  Its cwed hook—gone. Severed, twitg on the ground, bck blood pooling at its feet.

  For the first time, it felt pain.

  And then—

  It vanished.

  Gone.

  Like mist dissipating in the night.

  Rikard didn’t stop.

  He surged forward, swinging wildly into the darkness. The air itself seemed to around his bde—until suddenly—

  A shriek.

  Not Rikard’s.

  Not the scream of a dying man.

  The creature.

  Rikard hit something.

  His sword cleaved deep into its shoulder, bck blood spilling like tar across the cavern floor.

  We were winning.

  I rushed forward, my sword raised.

  This was it.

  This was over.

  I took my stance, my bde gleaming in the firelight, aimed straight for its head.

  With one swipe, my bde sliced through flesh and bone.

  The creature’s head rolled, its bulging, too-many eyes still twitg, its jagged maw frozen in a silent snarl. The body lurched, spasming violently before colpsing to the ground with a heavy, wet thud.

  And just like that—

  It was over.

  For a long moment, I just stood there, sword trembling in my grip, breath ragged. It was dead. We were alive.

  A slow, breathless chuckle broke the silence.

  I turned—Rikard was grinning.

  “Well, shit.” He let out another shaky ugh, rubbing his face. “That actually worked.”

  A ugh bubbled up in my chest, raw, exhausted, almost delirious. After everythiually won.

  We shouldn’t have. We should’ve died like the others. But we didn’t.

  Because we fought together.

  Also this time, I was the one who he killing blow.

  Not Rikard.

  Me.

  I g him, still catg his breath, still grinning like an idiot. He saved my ass too many times to t. But this time, I saved his.

  And damn it—that felt good.

  Rikard let out a long sigh, stretg his arms before g me on the back. “Alright, I’ll admit it—you saved my ass back there. That means I owe you. First round’s on me whe back.”

  I smirked, rolling my sore shoulder. “Oh? What are we talking? A good meal?”

  “Damn right,” Rikard grinned. “Whatever you want.”

  I didn’t miss a beat. “Roman’s?”

  “Nah.” He wrinkled his nose. “I told you before—Roman’s is overpriced. The food’s not even that good.”

  I chuckled. “Right. Lyria’s, then?”

  He nodded, already turning to retrieve his sword. “Now that’s real food. Best mb stew you’ll ever have.”

  I grinned wider, raising a brow. “You just like Lyria’s because she’s pretty.”

  Rikard stiffened. His face immediately went red.

  “Shut up.”

  I ughed, shaking my head as I wiped the blood from my bde.

  He ignored me, bending down and grabbing the severed head of the creature. He held it up, examining its grotesque features. “Let’s this up. I think we did it.” His voice was lighter now, almost relieved. “We killed The Mother.”

  And then—

  Laughter.

  It echoed through the cavern, curling through the air like something alive.

  Loud. Overwhelming.

  I felt it in my chest, in my bohe very cave trembled with it. For a moment, I thought the walls would colpse around us, burying us beh the earth.

  Then—silence.

  The fire flickered.

  And from the darkness, something stepped forward.

  It moved slowly, deliberately, its silhouette f in the dim, flickering light.

  A woman-like figure—but no woman at all.

  Its limbs were too long, its fingers ending in twisted, gnarled cws. Its body was skeletal, hollow, draped in thin, gray flesh that seemed to barely g to its bones. And its face—gods—its face was wrong.

  A maw too wide, stretg in a way no human mouth should. Its eyes sunken, bottomless pits of void.

  A voice—low, crawlih my skin like a whisper made of razors.

  “That… is not The Mother.”

  Rikard and I so attention, swords raised.

  The figure took aep forward, tilting its head.

  “I am The Mother.”