The horrible visage of the demon materialized before them, its great goat's head crowned with spiraling horns that twisted like sinister monuments, their jagged contours pulsing with otherworldly malice. Its crimson eyes burned with a baleful rhythm, glowing and dimming like the heartbeat of some ancient, unnatural force. The jagged teeth of its enormous maw glistened with blackened drool, each drop a viscous glob that clung to its jaw before falling to the ground in sickening splatters, hissing as they met the floor.

  Its hulking form was a grotesque mosaic of sinew and shadow, black and crimson marbling across its flesh like veins of dark fire. The monstrous legs that supported it were thick with muscles, spasming with violent, unnatural tremors that sent shockwaves through the room with every twitch. It loomed forward, its hunched posture supported by elongated arms ending in monstrous, four-fingered hands—gnarled and skeletal, each digit capped with talons sharp enough to carve through steel. The sound of its breathing was a low, guttural growl, each exhalation a wave of heat and the acrid stench of decay.

  As Morghadus exhaled, a putrid cloud of foul breath rolled over Jack like a tidal wave of rot and decay. The stench hit him with the force of a battering ram, and his body convulsed in immediate revolt. It felt like he had inhaled searing flames, the burning sensation racing down his throat and igniting his stomach with unbearable heat. His eyes watered incessantly, and bile rose sharply in his throat. Before he could stop himself, his body gave in, and he doubled over, spewing the contents of his dinner in a projectile torrent that splattered across the floor in a nauseating mess.

  Desperate for air, he sucked in a sharp breath—only to regret it immediately as the stench of rotting flesh and decay filled his lungs, and his insides burned once more. He collapsed to his knees, wracked with convulsions, retching uncontrollably. His hands groped at the ground, slipping on the slick bile beneath him and sending him sprawling with a sickening thud. He lay there, chest heaving, his body trembling, slick with sweat and vomit, unable to muster the strength to crawl away from the towering monstrosity before him.

  At that moment, Jack felt a crushing wave of regret, his mind spiraling backward through the fragmented memories of his soon-to-be-short life. Faces, places, and choices blurred into one suffocating tide, pulling him back to the moment of his birth—and of all things, he regretted being born most. Then, a singular thought cut through the chaos: Kleo.

  The regret faded, replaced by a fragile yet fierce determination. Gritting his teeth, his trembling fingers found a jagged edge in the stone floor, and he dragged himself forward, inch by inch, each movement a monumental effort. The shadows cooled his fevered skin as he collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath. He clawed at his face, trying to clear his eyes, but his hands and shirt were slick with bile and sweat. After frantic wiping, he managed to open one eye, though his vision swam with tears and grime.

  Cursing his weakness, he focused on the scene before him. The demon had shifted, its monstrous form looming ever closer to Kleo. It took a deliberate step toward her, the impact of its rear foot sending a tremor through the ground. The shockwave bounced Jack’s body against the cold stone.

  The creature leaned down, its immense jaws stretching wide, blackened teeth gleaming, and its grotesque, lolling tongue sliding from its maw. Kleo stood upright, motionless, her head tilted to face the beast. Jack’s chest tightened with confusion and dread. Why wasn’t she moving?

  The demon sniffed, its massive snout sweeping over Kleo’s form. Its exhalations stirred her hair, yet she remained still, her composure unbroken. Jack blinked, trying to clear his vision, desperate to make sense of the scene.

  Then, to his utter astonishment, the demon recoiled. Its jaws snapped shut, and its massive body jerked backward. One long, skeletal arm lifted, claws curling into a fist as if warding off something unseen. It stared at Kleo, its grotesque features twisting—not in rage, but in something close to recognition.

  Jack’s mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what he was witnessing. Then came the sound—a low, guttural laugh. Faint at first, it grew steadily, swelling in volume, until it reverberated through the room, a maniacal crescendo that froze Jack’s blood. He forced himself to focus, and his heart stopped as he realized the source of the laughter: Kleo.

  The demon howled in outrage, a thunderous cacophony reverberating through the chamber.

  “You fool of a priest, what have you done?”

  The priest, trembling and pale, managed only a stammered, “M-my Lord?” before the demon’s massive claws swept him from the ground. In one swift motion, the demon raised the man to its grotesque maw, and with a deafening roar, its fingers clenched. The priest’s body burst like an overripe berry, sending a crimson spray of gore raining down on the ritual’s participants. Where a man once was, only a fine red mist remained hanging in the air like a macabre shroud.

  Jack’s stomach churned violently, and his body convulsed in uncontrollable spasms. The primal, animal part of his brain screamed at him to flee, to escape the monstrosity that had reduced a man to a pulp. He had never seen anything like it—never imagined a man could burst. The image burned itself into his mind, a grotesque memory that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his days.

  He clawed for composure, his limbs trembling as if his body rebelled against him. Fear wrapped around him like chains, making every movement a monumental effort. But even as his body screamed for retreat, his mind locked onto one thought: Kleo.

  She was in danger, and he couldn’t leave her to face this alone. Gritting his teeth, Jack forced himself to his knees, fighting through waves of helplessness that threatened to crush him.

  His eyes refocused, and he saw her standing with her arms raised high above her head, her fingers curling inward like talons gripping invisible threads of power. Jack watched, mesmerized, as she swept her arms downward in one swift motion. Her hands slammed together, and a deafening crack split the air, a resounding boom that seemed to tear through the fabric of the room. The shockwave exploded outward with a force that rattled the very foundations of the building.

  The demon reeled, its hulking form bracing against the floor as the shockwave crashed into it. Despite its great strength, it stumbled backward, claws scraping furrows into the stone as it desperately tried to hold its ground.

  Jack’s mouth fell open, a thin string of bile dangling from his lips like a grotesque mimicry of the demon’s dripping maw. He couldn't comprehend what he was witnessing. The sheer power radiating from Kleo filled the room with an almost blinding brilliance, its energy alive and pulsing.

  And then, something surged within him. A spark of Kleo’s power coursed through his core, raw and untamed. It swirled chaotically, wild and unrelenting. Jack fought to control it, to shape its erratic flow into something he could wield. But the more he tried to impose his will, the more it slipped away, defying him. He had to let go of everything. Fear. Doubt. Regret. He released it all, surrendering himself to the current of power within him.

  The energy danced erratically at first, then began to attune to the rhythm of his steadying breath. A wave of calm washed over him, quieting his trembling hands and clearing the fog of terror clouding his mind. Small but unwavering, a glimmer of hope ignited within him for the first time. His resolve hardened. When the moment came, he knew he would be ready. When she needed him, he would not fail her.

  Kleo slammed her palms together, unleashing a torrent of energy that crackled through the air like a living storm. The demon’s malevolence was intoxicating—its presence fed her core, swelling her power to heights she had never imagined. The thrill was undeniable, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once. Her body craved more; her core answered the call, and for one fleeting moment, she felt invincible.

  Morghadus would burn. The demon would be reduced to ash and shadow under her might. She was no mere warrior—she was divine intervention in Demana form, a vessel of unstoppable force. There was no question that she would end this abomination. It deserved obliteration. The only question was, when the battle ended, who would she be? Would she still be Kleo? Or would this power, this intoxicating surge of raw energy, transform her into something unrecognizable?

  She wasn’t Jack in the aftermath of the Dark Witch’s fall, standing on the brink of destruction, drained and broken. Her power wasn’t borrowed; it was hers to wield. But wielding it came at a cost. Every surge of energy pushed her closer to the edge, where the boundaries of control blurred, and the danger of corruption loomed. If she tipped too far and let the power consume her, she knew it would twist her—slowly, insidiously—into a creature of darkness, something far worse than Morghadus.

  And the suffering wouldn’t stop with her. Jack, Rugr, Bitter, the brothers, even the Woogs—they would all pay the price for her failure. She could feel the Kadas Shadoom testing her resolve, whispering the fate that awaited her if she faltered. This wasn’t a battle of strength—it was a battle of will, of balance. And Jack was the key.

  She could feel his presence through the binding, steady and sure, a quiet beacon in the storm of her power. His strength amplified hers, not with force but with stability. He was her anchor, her ballast against the tidal wave threatening to pull her under. Her love for him and his unwavering trust in her held her back from the brink.

  Her corruption would be his corruption—they were intertwined now. She would not let that happen—not to him or them. With a deep breath, she focused her energy, drawing back from the precipice. Her power roared within her, but she tempered it, wielding it with precision. Jack was always with her, and they would end Morghadus together.

  The demon’s great tongue lolled in the air, lapping up the faint mist of blood that lingered—a final insult to the pathetic priest who had summoned him. Only the smallest particles remained; the priest’s body was obliterated. His fate had been sealed the moment Morghadus breached the veil.

  The priest was a fool. The girl had been a trap—a fucking Demana. Damn, the Sa Kamal and their lies. They had claimed eradication and boasted of wiping every last one of these vermin from existence, yet here she stood, her vile blue eyes blazing with defiance. Proof of their failure. When he returned to their realm, they would answer for their incompetence, and the price would be steep. He would extract it claw by claw, savoring their screams as they begged for the mercy he would never grant.

  He lunged at the girl, muscles rippling with unholy strength, but her power lashed out like a tidal wave, forcing him back. He dug in, bracing against the surge, his talons carving deep furrows into the stone beneath them. The girl sneered, her expression mocking, her gaze alive with the thrill of battle and a lust for his destruction. At least, he could appreciate that—a shared hunger for annihilation. She craved his death as much as he craved hers.

  And her death would be exquisite.

  She would feel the slow crush of his jaws, her bones splintering like twigs, her flesh rendered into pulp. He would savor every scream, every gasp, feeding the slurry of her remains to his baby rocs. He’d keep her eyes—pluck them from her shattered skull and shove them into his nostrils. Let her watch, helpless, as he split her body in two, devouring her piece by trembling piece.

  But then, something else caught his attention.

  A link. A foul, shimmering thread of mana binding her to another. The stench of it clogged his senses—intimate, potent, and sickeningly pure. He sniffed the air, his gaze swinging toward the wall, where a hunched figure quivered in the shadows.

  A human male. Weak. Pathetic. An ugly, pulsing lump of flesh, writhing in terror, bile pooling around his trembling form. He reeked of fear and unspent power, his love for the girl radiating from him like an open wound. She cared for this sniveling creature. She loved him

  Morghadus’s lips curled into a jagged smile, his jagged teeth glinting in the flickering light. He would kill the man—with malice. Devour their bond. He would savor the sweetness of their love as he crushed it into nothingness. Then, when it was over, he would leave their shredded connection in a pile of rotting filth, festering with maggots. He would make her watch as he turned her love into the most meaningless, vile waste imaginable.

  Let her see what true power meant.

  The demon stalked toward Jack, its massive, jagged jaws spreading wide with a bone-chilling creak, ready to snap him in half. Its crimson eyes burned with malice, twin pits of incandescent fury that seemed to sear through flesh and bone. Each ponderous step sent tremors rippling through the ground, knocking loose debris from the abbey’s crumbling walls. The vibrations echoed in Jack’s chest, rattling his already frayed nerves.

  Behind the hulking creature, Jack caught a fleeting glimpse of Kleo. Her hands moved in a precise, fluid motion, weaving an intricate spell that coalesced into a shimmering wave of force. The air around her rippled, charged with unseen energy. Jack’s breath hitched as realization struck—it was the same technique she had practiced with him.

  His instincts took over. Planting his feet, Jack braced himself as the energy wave hurtled toward him. Time seemed to slow as the force struck, washing over him with a tingling, electric heat that surged through his veins. The sensation was intoxicating—wild and untamed—but Jack tightened his focus, pulling the energy inward, harnessing it with a flick.

  With a guttural shout, he released the wave, redirecting it back toward the demon. The impact was devastating, colliding with the creature’s chest like a battering ram, throwing it backward with a deafening crack. The demon let out a guttural snarl, staggering as its colossal frame swayed. Its grotesque head jerked wildly, and for a surreal moment, Jack thought it might sneeze. He raised his hands defensively, muttering, “ Oh no, please don’t sneeze on me.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The demon’s shoulders heaved as it steadied itself, a feral growl rumbling deep within its throat. Its fiery gaze shifted past Jack, locking onto Kleo. The fury in its eyes boiled over, a murderous intent ignited into a blazing inferno.

  Then it moved, lunging forward with horrifying speed, its sinewy neck extending and muscles rippling beneath its blackened hide. Its gaping maw stretched impossibly wide, rows of jagged, black teeth gleaming like shards of broken glass.

  The roar came next—a sound so primal and thunderous it seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of the abbey. The force of it was more than noise; it was raw, oppressive energy, a crushing weight that drove Jack to his knees and sent loose stones tumbling from above. He clamped his hands over his ears, but it was useless—the sound pierced through him like a physical blow, rattling his mind and clawing at his sanity.

  Through the chaos, Jack saw Kleo standing firm in the face of the onslaught. Her eyes burned with a fierce determination as she met the demon’s glare, unflinching. The beast focused on her, its body coiling like a predator preparing to strike. Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears, his thoughts a jumble of fear and desperation.

  Kleo, don’t you dare fail now.

  Kleo locked eyes with Morghadus, the air heavy with shared hatred. Her fingers flexed as she braced for his attack, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The demon struck with feral speed—faster than she had anticipated. She dodged to her right, but his massive wrist clipped her thigh, sending her into an awkward tumble. She rolled and sprang to her feet, testing her leg with a grimace. That’s going to leave a mark.

  The pain was sharp but manageable—a mistake, but a small one. She couldn’t afford another. This fight wasn’t about survival but ending Morghadus for good. Their plan depended on precision, timing, and Jack. She cast a glance toward him and felt a pang of worry. He was on all fours, struggling to rise, his breath ragged. His face was a mask of determination, but his body seemed unwilling to cooperate.

  Goddess, help him, she thought, swallowing the lump of doubt threatening to choke her. Then, their eyes met. She made the signal with her right hand, a deliberate flick of her fingers, and saw his eyes widen with recognition. Fear flickered in his gaze, but he nodded. She knew he would come through—he had to.

  Morghadus’s gaze shifted between them, his grotesque maw curling into a cruel mockery of a grin. He understood. He could feel their bond, the way their energies intertwined. He growled, his burning eyes settling on her. He knew she was the greater threat, and like the Dark Wolf before him, he would charge her with relentless fury.

  But Jack moved first.

  The crack of impact echoed through the room as Jack’s sphere of force struck the demon’s ribs. The crunch was unmistakable, and Morghadus let out a bellowing snarl of pain. Its head snapped toward Jack, its fury ignited, but it was all the opening Kleo needed.

  Ignoring the searing pain in her leg, she sprinted forward, counting her steps. One. Two. Three. She launched herself upward, drawing on the force within her core, propelling herself higher than any human leap could carry. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the terrible maw yawning wide to meet her, teeth glinting like jagged, obsidian shards.

  She saw Jack’s orb—a radiant, pulsating sphere of pure energy—hovering between her and the beast’s jaws. It radiated with warmth and familiarity, embodying their bond and shared resolve. To her, it wasn’t light—it was love, their love, forged through their trials, strengthened in the fires of trust and faith. This was their weapon, and it was beautiful.

  This has to work, she thought. It must. If they failed, there was no second chance. Death would not be the end—not for her. She would face corruption, the slow, insidious decay of her soul. And yet, even in that fleeting moment of dread, she knew she wouldn’t allow it. Kadas Shadoom would not allow it.

  The orb pulsed, waiting for her. She stretched her arms wide, clasping it in both hands and drew the energy into herself. It flowed through her body like molten light, filling every vein, nerve, and fiber. It was overwhelming, yet she wielded it with purpose.

  Time snapped back to full speed as she opened her mouth, releasing the divine light in a blinding torrent. It surged forward, a pure, unrelenting force, pouring directly into Morghadus’s gaping maw. The demon froze, its soulless eyes widening as it realized, too late, the inevitability of its end.

  The light seared through him, consuming him from within. Smoke and ash erupted from his mouth and eyes as the divine force burned away his flesh, his essence, his very existence. His death cry was drowned in the roaring light, the sound of it breaking like glass against the radiant tide.

  And then it was over. The great form of Morghadus collapsed into a blackened husk, his hulking body reduced to ash and embers. The ground beneath him quaked one last time before falling still.

  Kleo’s mouth closed, and the light extinguished. Her body trembled, spent and heavy with exhaustion. She felt the world tilt as darkness closed in around her. The last thing she saw was Jack, his face etched with relief and terror, watching her as she fell.

  She surrendered to unconsciousness, trusting he would catch her before she hit the ground.

  Jack clambered to his feet, his legs shaking uncontrollably, threatening to betray him as he lurched forward. His heart pounded in his chest, his body rebelling against the torrent of adrenaline coursing through him. Kleo had given the signal—it was time to act. He forced himself to steady his stance, breath ragged as he summoned the energy from his core, molding it into a small, brilliant mana sphere.

  The orb pulsed in his hands, potent and raw, its light casting sharp shadows in the blood-soaked chamber. This was it—the plan they had formed in desperation. Simple, untested, and terrifying. Jack’s role was to distract the demon long enough for Kleo to execute the killing blow. The memory of their first encounter with his magic flashed in his mind—Kleo had accidentally redirected his magic back at him that day, and it had launched him into a shelf. Now, she would redirect that same power into herself, channeling it into a surge of unstoppable force.

  Or so they hoped.

  The theory was sound. The execution? He had no idea. It had to work—it was their only chance. But the thought of watching it fail, watching everything unravel before his eyes, made him want to turn away. He couldn’t. Not now.

  Jack pushed the sphere forward with everything he had, and the orb streaked through the air like a comet, slamming into the demon’s side with a resounding crack. The impact shook the room, eliciting a guttural snarl from the monstrous creature. Jack heard the crunch of ribs breaking, a sickly, satisfying sound. He couldn’t revel in it. Kleo was already moving.

  She sprinted forward, her every movement precise and deliberate despite the pain that lanced through her injured leg. Her leap was breathtaking, her body a blur of motion as she propelled herself high into the air. Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the demon lunge upward to meet her, its massive jaws opening wide in a hideous display of primal hunger. It was going for her, determined to consume her whole.

  Jack’s stomach twisted with rage and fear. He pulled again, summoning every last ounce of energy he had, forging it into a second orb that burned hotter and brighter than the first. His hands trembled as he released it, his voice tearing from his throat in a primal scream. The orb soared upward, its radiance cutting through the gloom like a miniature sun hovering before Kleo.

  The moment froze, suspended in time. Jack watched as Kleo reached out, grasping the orb with both hands. The light enveloped her, infusing her with its power, and when she opened her mouth, the divine radiance poured forth. It was beautiful and terrible—a brilliant, searing torrent of pure energy that cascaded over the demon, consuming it entirely.

  The beast thrashed violently, its marble-black flesh blistering and bubbling under the relentless assault. Its eyes erupted in grotesque pops, dark smoke billowing from the empty sockets. Its snarls turned to agonized howls, then faded into silence as its body collapsed in a smoldering heap. The ground shook with the force of its fall, and the room was filled with the acrid stench of burnt flesh.

  Jack sank to his knees, his chest heaving as the weight of relief crashed over him. He had done it—they had done it. Mission Accomplished. But his elation was short-lived.

  Kleo.

  His eyes found her in time to see her body go limp, her arms falling to her sides as her strength gave out. She began to plummet toward the unforgiving stone floor. Panic surged through him. He flicked his right hand desperately, his force spell sputtering weakly as he tried to cushion her fall. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  She fell fast, and Jack’s heart dropped with her. She hit the ground with a hard thud.

  Jack rushed to her side, collapsing onto his knees as he gathered her into his arms. Her body was still, her skin hot to his touch, and for a horrifying moment, he thought he had lost her. His trembling fingers brushed the tangled strands of hair from her face, revealing her pale features, serene but hauntingly fragile.

  “Kleo,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His hands cradled her head, his thumb brushing against her cheek. The chaos around him faded into the background—the demon’s charred remains, the flickering light of the room. None of it mattered. She mattered. That was all.

  Then, a faint stir. Her chest rose in a shallow breath, and her lashes fluttered open. Her gaze found his, her lips curving into a faint, tired smile. She raised a hand to his face, her touch warm against his clammy skin. That simple gesture, so gentle and deliberate, sent a wave of emotion crashing over him, more profound than any power he’d felt during the fight.

  “Jack,” she whispered, her voice soft and frail.

  Tears welled in his eyes, spilling freely as he laughed, his relief pouring out in waves. He rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. Jack held her close, tears falling onto her skin as he whispered, “Kleo—We need to talk.”

  Kleo let out a soft, breathy laugh, and the sound was music to his ears, a balm for his frayed soul.

  Morghadus was ended, and they had done it together. They were a team, and Jack knew that whatever came next, they would face it together. He knew they always would.

  After a few minutes, Kleo was feeling steadier, and Jack helped her to her feet. Her robe and clothes were torn to shreds, held in place by threads. With a grimace, she stepped out of the robe, naked and battered.

  Jack’s eyes scanned her for serious injuries. Beyond the bruises blooming along her right side, the only other injury was her left leg, swollen above the knee—a souvenir from the demon’s strike.

  “How do I look?” she asked, bracing for the worst.

  Jack tilted his head, pretending to appraise her like a painting. “Hmm. Not great…but I’d still do you.”

  She punched him hard in the arm.

  “Owww!” Jack yelped, clutching his arm in mock agony. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

  He sighed. “You’re alive; that’s all that matters— but you need to put something on.”

  Here,” he said, untying his robe, “take mine.”

  Kleo recoiled in mock horror. “Uh, no thanks.”

  Jack laughed and began bouncing excitedly as if a dam had broken.

  “Did you see me?!”

  He mimed throwing the sphere of energy, adding exaggerated sound effects.

  “I just let it all flow, and then—whoosh! A massive ball of blinding light!” He flung his arms wide, imitating an explosion. “Aaaaahhh! And everything went…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…white! Everything was so white!”

  Kleo giggled, charmed by his enthusiasm.

  “I saw you vomit,” she teased. “You’re still wearing most of it.”

  She wrinkled her nose and grimaced.

  Jack glanced down at his ruined clothes, sticky and stained beyond saving.

  He sighed. “Yeah, okay…not my finest moment.”

  “You did good, Jack,” she said. Her expression softened, and she leaned in as if to kiss his cheek but stopped short, her nose wrinkling again.

  “But first, we really need to give you a bath.”

  Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “You were amazing too. I don’t even know where to start. Staring down a demon? That’s badass.”

  “Thanks. His breath, though--nasty.” She leaned closer, feigning concern. “Do I smell like him?”

  Jack leaned in, sniffing hesitantly. He immediately recoiled, covering his face. Good gods.

  He shook his head emphatically. “Not at all.”

  They laughed, their tension easing as they held each other’s gaze. Then, hand in hand, they navigated the wreckage, stepping over the debris and carnage.

  Their eyes fell on the prone forms of Bart and Tholomew, lying face-down amid the chaos. Jack crouched, rolling Bart onto his back.

  Bart groaned, his eyelids fluttering open.

  Turning to Tholomew, Jack repeated the process, earning a similar groggy response. Both brothers were alive, their breathing shallow but steady.

  Bart sat up, his bleary eyes landing on Kleo. She stood naked amid the destruction, and Jack immediately stepped in front of her, doing his best to shield her from Bart’s lingering gaze.

  “What happened?” Bart asked, his voice rough with exhaustion. His eyes flicked to Jack for answers but kept darting around him toward Kleo.

  Rising onto her tiptoes, Kleo peeked over Jack’s shoulder, her tone casual.

  “We summoned a demon,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “It wasn’t thrilled about being here, so we put it down.”

  Bart’s jaw slackened as his gaze shifted to the demon’s charred remains. “Is…is that what smells so bad?” Then, squinting at Jack, he added, “And what’s all over you?”

  Jack looked down at himself and, thinking quickly, replied, “Oh, just a bit of demon… smega. Comes with the territory.” He puffed out his chest, shooting Kleo a pointed look that dared her to contradict him.

  Bart raised an eyebrow. “Looks more like lamb stew.”

  Jack deflated. “Well…there’s some of that too.” He half-heartedly attempted to brush off the larger chunks clinging to his tunic.

  Bart’s gaze swept the room again, pausing at the carnage before returning to Jack.

  “Where’s Antonio?”

  Jack hesitated, his expression darkening as he glanced at the bloodied remnants scattered across the floor.

  “Oh,” Bart whispered, his tone heavy with understanding. He lowered his head, muttering a quiet prayer.

  “May he rest in peace,” Tholomew added, his voice solemn as he rose unsteadily to his feet. He gestured toward Kleo.

  “Let me see if I can find something more appropriate for Miss Kleo to wear. I’m sure we’ve got something in storage.”

  He shuffled off, wincing with each step.

  Bart, his gaze fixed on Antonio’s remains, muttered under his breath, “More like pieces.”

  Jack and Kleo exchanged a glance, their expressions deadpan.

  “Too soon?” Bart asked, hesitating.

  In unison, Jack and Kleo replied, “Too soon.”

  They all sat in the cottage, the brothers occupying the worn chairs in the front room. Jack and Kleo had changed into their spare shirts and pants, though their limited wardrobe was a growing concern. They’d packed two clean robes of the Cult of Morghadus in their bags, knowing they might need them in the future. Despite scrubbing themselves thoroughly, a faint lingering stench of demon clung to them, reminding them of the night’s events.

  “What are we going to do with that stinking corpse?” Bart asked, wrinkling his nose.

  Jack and Tholomew exchanged a glance. “Goat pit,” they said in unison.

  Bart grinned. “Works for me.”

  Jack leaned back, stretching his legs.

  “So, what’s the plan? Will you guys keep the Cult of Morghadus alive or rebrand into something less… demonic?”

  Tholomew folded his arms, considering. “We’re done with demons. But honestly? We might have to move on. We can care for the animals and the place for now, but we won’t last long without income.”

  Bart nodded. “Yeah, it’s a shame. But hey—goat’s back on the menu.” His grin returned; this time, it was infectious as the room filled with laughter. Even Kleo, still bruised and aching, couldn’t help but smile.

  “But seriously,” Bart continued, “Thol’s right. We’re too far from major trade routes to make a living selling goods, and I’m not much help with the physical stuff. The only things I’m good at are cooking and… sometimes cleaning.”

  Kleo leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “You’re an excellent cook, Bart. I bet people would come here just for your food.”

  Bart’s face lit up. “Thanks. Hearing that makes me happy. Cooking’s what I live for, you know?”

  Tholomew’s expression darkened, and he stared down at his hands. “Antonio kept this place running, for better or worse. Goddess, protect him.”

  They all nodded solemnly, though Bart broke the silence with a rueful chuckle. “He was a bit of a prat, though.”

  Tholomew smirked. “Yeah. I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, but I don’t like lying either.”

  Jack stretched his arms behind his head.

  “We’re not going to figure it all out tonight. Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow while we clean up?”

  “Sounds good,” Tholomew said. “But… pardon the request. We were hoping we could sleep here tonight. These chairs are fine—the thought of going back there…” He gestured toward the abbey, his voice trailing off.

  Kleo nodded. “Totally get it. We’ve got extra blankets. Jack will bring them out.”

  Jack shot her a tired look but got up, fetching the blankets and handing them to the brothers. “Night, guys.”

  “Good night,” Bart and Tholomew chorused, settling into their chairs.

  Jack returned to the back room, where Kleo was already in bed, her head resting on the pillow. Her bruised side was visible in the dim light, and Jack winced, knowing she’d be sore for days.

  “Kleo,” he said, sliding under the covers. “I was serious earlier when I said we needed to talk. Today was… batshit insane. Are there going to be a lot more days like this?”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion.

  Jack stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. “Okay. Uh… thanks for clarifying. Good talk… I guess.”

  Her only response was a soft snore.

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, as always, would be another adventure.