The colossal claw slammed down, pinning my forearm to the slick cavern floor. Crushing pressure flattened me, the razor tips gouging ruts in the stone an inch from my flesh. A guttural growl vibrated through the rock, rattling my teeth. Up close, the beast was even more terrifying—a writhing mass of obsidian scales, too many eyes, and a maw that reeked of ozone and rot. Its amethyst glare, the same haunting shade from my memory, fixed on my glowing arm. Dark ribbons, shimmering like crude oil, snaked from its pores, reaching for the wound.
Panic seized me, a cold dread that had nothing to do with the physical pain of being pinned. This was it. The moment I had relived a hundred times in my nightmares. The fiend wasn't here to kill Dragomir, or even Borscht. It was here for *me*.
One of the inky ribbons brushed against the prick mark on my arm. A searing cold erupted, not on my skin, but *inside* me. It raced through my veins, an icy poison blooming in my chest, tightening around my heart. My vision blurred, not from tears, but from the sensation of something alien unfurling within my very core. My muscles spasmed, my limbs answering to someone else. The cavern tilted, and a brutal clarity descended.
This wasn’t just a replica of my death. This *was* it. The feeling of my own will dissolving, replaced by an intrusive, malicious presence. The abomination wasn't killing me in my past life; it was *possessing* me. And Dragomir… Dragomir had never been my executioner. He had aimed to slay the entity, even if it meant striking through my ribcage to do so. He had saved the fortress at the expense of my breath and his own peace.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, stripping away every ounce of my paranoia, every desperate scheme. All this time, I had fought him, fled from him, tried to pawn him off on Milena, when he had been the only one trying to save me. My jaw went slack. The creature’s filaments burrowed deeper, the frost spreading, claiming my chest. I could feel my voice receding into a hollow rasp. My vision warped beneath an alien haze.
Then, a flash of movement. Dragomir, who had been scrambling to free himself from the small pile of rubble, launched forward. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t summon his gloom-forged blade. Instead, he threw himself over my body, creating a living shield.
“No,” he snarled, his voice a low, vibrating growl, a counterpoint to the beast’s own. The black appendages recoiled from his skin for an instant, arrested by his sudden interposition. “Not again.”
The beast shrieked, a sound that grated on my very bones. Its fangs snapped, trying to find purchase, but Dragomir twisted, presenting his back, his shoulders, anything to protect me. The appendages, now enraged, didn't just graze him; they *impaled* him. They pierced through his thick leather armor, embedding themselves in his flesh.
Phantom agony exploded in my own back, a thousand icy needles piercing me. I gasped, a raw retch tore from my throat as the Soul-Tether dragged his agony across our shared link. But Dragomir didn’t flinch. He didn’t cry out. His eyes, usually pools of quiet intensity, blazed with a fierce, terrifying defiance. His own void-magic, normally harnessed, erupted from his form, a violent, inky cloud that churned around him.
The beast’s barbed lashes, still embedded, began to buckle, retracting in pain. Dragomir was *absorbing* its corruption. His dark shroud, the very power I had feared, was devouring the beast’s own. Black veins began to spiderweb across his exposed skin, coiling up his neck, across his jaw. His eyes, once blazing, now flickered with a raw, internal struggle. He was fighting it, fighting the beast’s poison with his own dark essence.
The rogue beast let out another piercing shriek, shrill with genuine agony. It wasn't just being repelled; it was being *hurt*. Its massive claw lifted from my arm, releasing me. The barbed lashes ripped free from Dragomir’s back with a wet tear, leaving behind smoking gashes. It scrambled backward, abandoning its prize, its malicious amethyst eyes fixed on Dragomir, a look of pure, unadulterated fear replacing the hunger. With a final, furious roar, it lunged back into the hole it had created, disappearing into the darkness.
The cavern fell silent, save for the dripping of ice melt and the ragged sounds of Dragomir’s breathing. He slumped forward, collapsing from the beast’s assault, his shoulders heaving. I could feel the cold venom in my own body receding, the alien presence withdrawing as the beast fled. The violet glow on my arm faded, leaving behind only a faint, angry red mark.
I struggled to sit up, my muscles still trembling from the residual possession. Dragomir, still hunched over me, was shaking. The shadow-veins on his skin were still stark black against his pallor, pulsing faintly. A low moan escaped him, a sound of profound pain. He had stopped glaring into the darkness; his gaze sat unfocused and vacant. His eyelids fluttered, and he began to list sideways.
“Dragomir!” I cried, scrambling to catch him. His skin was clammy, despite the radiating heat of his struggle. He felt heavy, dead weight, yet he instinctively tried to lean away from me, his head lolling. “Dragomir, can you hear me? What did it do to you?”
He mumbled something unintelligible, his body hot, then cold, then hot again. The poison, the sheer amount of corrupted magic he’d absorbed, was tearing through him. This wasn’t just a scratch; he was infected, and badly. My monster hunter’s instincts flared, overriding everything else. He wasn’t a murderer; he was a shield, a protector, the only one who had ever stood between me and that thing. He had done it twice now. I needed to save him.
Borscht, having wisely taken cover, scurried out, chittering anxiously around Dragomir’s head. He nudged his six-legged body against Dragomir’s cheek, then whined, sensing the raw corruption.
“We have to get him out of here,” I muttered, trying to find a way to lift him. My arms felt like jelly. Dragging his slack deadweight took every scrap of grit I had left. I needed help. Even Milena.
As if summoned by my desperation, a dull roar echoed from the direction of the original cave-in. The sound of shifting rock, then a sharp, metallic screech. Light, a blinding spotlight from a high-powered rifle, speared into the cavern, cutting through the gloom.
Milena Kavolya emerged from the newly cleared passage, her rifle held steady, her expression as cool and impassive as ever. Her eyes, however, were keen, instantly assessing the scene: the collapsed wall, the fleeing beast’s trail, my still-glowing arm, and Dragomir’s poisoned, unconscious form.
Her rifle didn’t waver. It didn’t lift to examine the monster’s exit. Instead, it slowly, deliberately, swung to point directly at Dragomir’s head.
“Infected,” she stated, her voice devoid of emotion, each word a chip of ice. “Vanguard law is clear. Execution.”