Zion and I stood before the ritual chamber's threshold, the weight of what lay beyond pulling at my chest like a storm's eye. The sigils on the floor had grown more aggressive, glowing with pulses that echoed like faint heartbeats through the stone beneath my boots. Each beat was another second drained from my comrades. I glanced at Zion, who stared down the corridor ahead, jaw tight, hand flexing around her sword grip.
"We split here," she said, her voice steady. "I'll take the east wing and position the first anchor. You get the library anchor."
I hesitated for half a second. "You sure?"
She gave a short nod, not looking at me. "I'll be fine."
I didn't press further. Instead, I gave her hand a brief squeeze before hurrying down the west corridor, leaving her alone with the flickering candles and the whispering dark.
Zion didn't waste time. The east wing's halls were narrower, lined with aged suits of armor whose helmets turned just slightly whenever she passed. The air was thicker here. Heavier. Like walking underwater. But she pressed on, pushing her fear aside for one reason—me. And the girls. She wouldn't let herself freeze again.
Halfway through the corridor, one of the suits of armor lurched to life.
Its sword scraped free with an eerie screech. Its eyes, burning blue fire, locked onto her.
Zion didn't hesitate. She brought her shield up in time to block the first strike, metal on metal ringing out through the corridor. Her blade met the possessed knight's with a clash that sparked fire into the air. It was heavier than expected, stronger than it had any right to be. But she gritted her teeth, twisted her stance, and drove her weight into a rising slash that cut clean through the helm.
The armor crumbled. She moved on.
In the west wing, I entered the cursed library. Books lined every wall—none with titles—yet the moment I stepped into the room, several tomes lifted themselves into the air and began to shriek. Illusions flickered across my vision: phantoms trying to deceive me with false images of my friends, Frye begging me to save her, Iris screaming. I steeled myself, muttering a chant to clear the mind, and used a fire pulse to burn away the illusions.
At the very back of the chamber, sealed behind a glass case of bone, sat the anchoring crystal—glowing with soft blue energy. I shattered the barrier with a precision strike of wind magic and pulled it free, heart pounding. The moment I held it, the shrieking stopped.
With the two anchors now placed, Zion and I reconvened outside the main ritual chamber—both out of breath, both with soot and blood on our gear. We didn't need to say anything. One nod was enough.
The double doors creaked open, revealing the heart of the mansion: a towering hall, lined with shattered mirrors and floating chandeliers of flickering ghost-light.
And there she was.
The ghostly sorceress floated at the far end, her body ethereal, her hair drifting as if underwater. Her eyes burned like twin moons, and from her outstretched arms, spectral chains extended to the floating forms of Frye, Iris, and Mochi.
They hovered in the air—limp, glowing faintly, their mana slowly siphoned into the circle below. Their faces were pale. Their lips moved in silent murmurs.
"No," I breathed.
Zion stepped ahead, raising her shield. "We're ending this. Now."
I dropped to my knees, pulling the ritual scroll and crystal from my pack, beginning to chant the disruption spell. Elemental energy surged from my fingertips into the ritual lines carved into the floor. The glow flickered—then the sorceress turned, her gaze locking onto me.
She screamed, and the air split apart.
A pulse of dark energy slammed into me, hurling me backward. I hit the ground hard, breath stolen, vision swimming. The spell nearly broke from my lips.
But then Zion was there.
She stood between me and the ghost, her shield glowing, absorbing the full force of the next blast. Her body trembled. Blood dripped from her nose. But she stood firm.
"She's mine," the ghost snarled, trying to press through her.
"She's not taking you," Zion growled, pressing forward with her shield until she was face to face with the spirit.
I continued the chant through gritted teeth, forcing the last lines out as my magic surged into the circle. The floor beneath the sorceress cracked. Light erupted in a storm of color. The runes shattered.
With one final scream, the ghost exploded into mist—banished.
The girls collapsed from their bindings, falling gently as the magic faded. I rushed forward, catching Iris first, then helping Frye and Mochi as they groaned weakly, color slowly returning to their cheeks. Iris blinked, confused. Frye gave a tired smile. Mochi reached out and touched my face.
But my attention was already elsewhere.
Zion was on her knees, shoulders heaving, blood trickling down her temple. I dropped beside her and caught her before she fell.
"Zion!" I shouted, panic breaking through my voice.
"I'm… fine…" she breathed. "Did we… win?"
I nodded, pulling her close.
The mansion shook around us. The ritual stones shattered. The oppressive weight that had filled the halls began to lift. And as the girls stirred back to life in my arms, I looked down at Zion—eyes shut, breath shallow, but victorious.
I didn't hear anything else. Just the echo of her heartbeat against my chest.
The cursed mansion groaned behind us, its ancient stones crumbling beneath the weight of its shattered magic. The girls and I emerged from its warped halls like survivors from a long-forgotten battlefield. The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the forest clearing, the mist finally beginning to lift. Behind us, cracks spread across the mansion's foundation like spiderwebs, sections of its tower collapsing inward in eerie silence. The nightmare was over.
Iris stumbled slightly as she exited, and I caught her by the shoulder. "Careful," I said.
She blinked up at me, eyes still hazy. "I… I thought I was going to die in there."
Frye stretched her arms above her head with a dramatic groan. "Okay. No more cursed ruins. Ever. I swear this one tried to eat me."
Mochi simply shook dust from her fur, ears twitching as she scanned the treeline. "Tch. Should've shredded that ghost myself."
I nodded, quietly grateful that everyone was alive.
But I couldn't shake the image of Zion, bleeding and staggering from the final battle, shielding me with everything she had. Without a word, I stepped away from the group. She followed, without question, her boots crunching lightly on the grass as I led her toward the edge of the clearing, away from the others. Just the two of us under the moonlight.
She leaned against a gnarled old tree, breathing slowly, her armor dull and scratched. I stood beside her in silence for a while, the night air cool against my face, the only sound being the whisper of wind and the last distant groan of the collapsing mansion.
"Thank you," I said finally, turning to her. "For trusting me. For protecting me."
Zion didn't answer right away. She looked at me—really looked at me. And then she reached forward, curled her fingers gently around the collar of my cloak, and tugged me closer.
The kiss was soft. Brief. Gentle metal clinks echoed as she moved closer, her chest plate pressing lightly into me as she wrapped her arms around my back. She buried her face in my shoulder, trembling just slightly.
"I was terrified," she whispered. "But I wasn't alone. You gave me the courage to keep moving."
My arms slid around her automatically. Her breathing slowed, matching mine. The scent of blood and ash still clung faintly to her armor, but I didn't care. The weight of her body, solid and warm, was real. And right now, so was her vulnerability.
She didn't let go.
Not after a minute. Not after two.
Eventually, the sounds of the others returned, and before long, the rest of the party appeared at the edge of the clearing.
Frye came into view first, and the moment she spotted the two of us locked in a close embrace, her eye twitched. "Oh… hell no."
Iris gasped, hands rising to her lips. "Zion…?"
Mochi narrowed her glowing eyes. Her tail bristled. A low growl rumbled in her throat.
Zion didn't move. She didn't even flinch. She only hugged me tighter, letting the others see exactly what this was—and daring them to do something about it.
"She's really doing this," Frye muttered. "She's really claiming him. Right in front of us."
"You snooze, you lose," Zion said quietly, without looking back.
Later, the five of us climbed into the carriage in tense silence. The ride home was long, and the tension inside was thicker than any curse. Frye sat opposite me with her arms crossed and her legs tapping. Iris kept stealing nervous glances toward me, her cheeks still pink. Mochi refused to sit anywhere except beside me, her tail coiled tightly around my leg like a leash.
But Zion was the boldest of all.
She clung to my arm the entire ride, head resting on my shoulder, eyes closed in peaceful satisfaction. Her fingers never left mine. And every time someone opened their mouth to say something, Zion gave them a subtle smirk that shut it down immediately.
Whatever came next, one thing was clear:
Zion had made her move.
And she had no intention of backing off.