Greywind lunged toward Lyra, hoisting her into his arms with a strength born of desperation. He surged toward the corner of the vault, seeking sanctuary. "In this entire gods-forsaken room, I am likely the only one who does not wish to see you dead!"
The words spilled out in a frantic torrent, a gamble that defied all reason. Rather than striking or fleeing, Greywind abandoned his cover behind the altar and sprinted into the fray. He snatched up the wounded elf; Lyra, too stunned by the audacity of the move to resist, let herself be carried as he raced away from the thrashing devil and the sanguine glow of the ritual circle.
He felt her frame slight yet corded with tension as warm blood began to seep through her garments and onto his hands. She hissed through gritted teeth, a sound of raw agony, but she offered no protest. He shoved her into the shadows behind a stack of weathered crates, providing a makeshift bulwark against the chaos.
From this close, he saw her green eyes flickering with a volatile mix of hatred, bewilderment, and sheer exhaustion. Her breath came in shallow, ragged hitches.
"Fool..." she rasped, her voice a ghost of its former power. "Why would you...?"
Jannis hissed within his consciousness, her tone a dissonant chord of admiration and disgust. "Such idiotic chivalry! To abandon a strategic advantage for a mad elf who sought to roast you alive! And yet... hmmm... perhaps this is our only path to the surface. She still has magic in those veins, does she not?"
In the center of the chamber, the Barbed Devil fell into a blind, masterless frenzy. With Valerius's grip severed, the fiend turned feral, its iron spikes bristling like a threatened urchin. Its smoldering red eyes locked onto Greywind and Lyra the only living targets remaining.
Lord Valerius lay broken within his own ritual circle, blood pooling in the silver grooves. His chest rose and fell in a stuttering rhythm; he breathed, but he was already dancing on the threshold of the grave.
The Imp remained a phantom, though a high-pitched, rusted cackle betrayed its presence. Suddenly, a sharp "Nyeeeh!" cut the air, followed by a searing sting in Greywind's thigh. The creature had struck from the veil of invisibility.
Heat radiated from the venomous puncture. The Barbed Devil let out a cavernous roar and stepped forward, its spiked whip singing through the air. Because Lyra was positioned further forward in their corner, she bore the brunt of the assault.
She let out a strangled shriek as the impact threw her against the masonry. She remained conscious, but her breath turned short and labored, her face turning the color of ash.
The invisible Imp hovered near the Barbed Devil, likely seeking a tactical opening to sting once more. But its proximity was its undoing. From her place in the shadows, Lyra groaned, her eyes igniting with a final, desperate resolve. She locked onto the devil and the flickering disturbance in the air beside it.
"Then we shall burn together!" she snarled, extending her hands toward the heart of the room.
She unleashed Scorching Ray.
Three streaks of incandescent fire erupted from her fingertips. Whether by design or divine luck, the rays found both the Imp and the Barbed Devil. The lesser fiend was instantly reduced to drifting cinders, while the Barbed Devil merely roared louder, its scorched hide glowing with a vengeful heat.
Jannis let out a low, vibrant laugh. "Ah, did you forget, darling? I am always watching. Every life extinguished in your presence is an offering to us both."
She spoke the truth. As the Imp withered and Valerius drew his final, rattling breath upon the cold stone, Greywind felt a surge of dark, cold energy rushing into him from their departing souls. It was the Dark One's Blessing.
The energy flooded his battered frame, granting him a layer of spectral vitality. He felt sharper, his strength momentarily bolstered despite the raw wounds. With this borrowed power, he put distance between himself and Lyra. He leveled his hand and unleashed an Eldritch Blast fueled by every ounce of his loathing.
"Get away from us, you monster!"
The bolt of void struck the Barbed Devil with a thunderous crack. The fiend howled, the force of the impact hurling it backward. Its spiked whip lashed out at nothingness. It still stood, but it was a ruin of its former self.
Jannis shrieked in his head not a cry of pain, but of soaring ecstasy. "YES! That is the way! Let the gutter-filth feel our reach!" He felt a psychic tremor roll through him, a wave of profound satisfaction that had not yet reached its peak. This fiend was a prize of high value.
"Lyra! With me!" Greywind drew his rapier and lunged.
Lyra fixed him with a sharp, piercing stare. "Fool! Who would ever bow to a murderer?!" she cried, but her actions defied her tongue. Rather than retreating, she stepped into the light, her Flame Blade roaring back to life in an arc of orange-red fire that illuminated her sweat-streaked face.
Then came the transformation. Lyra dropped into a low, predatory stance, her feet finding a rhythmic grace. She began to chant in the high, melodic tongue of Ancient Elven, and her fiery blade began to hum, producing a melody that was as beautiful as it was lethal.
It was the Bladesong.
Her green eyes blazed with a fierce magical light. Her golden hair seemed to dance on an invisible gale. Every movement became fluid, ethereal, and precise. She was no longer a wounded caster; she was a deadly dancer of the blade.
Jannis was momentarily silenced by the spectacle. "Oh... exquisite. Like the song of a desert gale that pierces the heart. She is burning her very soul for this fight. Guard yourself, Greywind. This elf holds secrets far deeper than a murdered kin."
Greywind charged with his rapier, and Lyra followed but in her own fashion. She moved alongside him, not behind, two predators forced into a wary alliance by the shadow of a greater threat.
The Barbed Devil, reeling from the blast, watched them approach. It growled, its spikes quivering. The fires of the Scorching Ray still flickered in the cracks of its iron hide.
With a lethality that was almost poetic, Lyra glided forward. Her Bladesong granted her a preternatural speed. She struck the devil with her Flame Blade, the fiery edge carving a deep, smoking furrow into its side. The fiend shrieked, its balance finally faltering.
But Lyra was relentless. She struck again.
The Barbed Devil was now truly broken. Black ichor dripped from a dozen wounds. Its breath was a wet, heavy rattle, yet its eyes still burned with an infernal hate.
Jannis whispered, "It is nearly finished, love. But a fiend of this rank has one final sting. Beware the burst of its spikes. But... oh, what a magnificent show. I am... almost there."
With a guttural roar erupting from his parched throat, Greywind summoned the last of his strength and desperation. He lunged, driving his rapier with every ounce of his weight at the staggering Barbed Devil.
There was no grace in the move, only a brutal, frontal intent to destroy.
The rapier pierced the iron-scaled hide, sinking deep into the infernal meat until the hilt slammed against the devil's chest. A cavernous groan escaped the creature. Black blood sprayed across Greywind's face.
Then CRACK. The fragile steel of his rapier, perhaps too old or perhaps pushed beyond its limit, shattered. The hilt remained in his hand, but the blade was buried in the devil's heart.
The Barbed Devil froze. The red fire in its eyes slowly flickered and died. It swayed for a heartbeat before crashing to the floor with a thud that shook the vault. It moved no more.
DARK ONE'S BLESSING TRIGGERED.
A torrent of black energy flowed from the dying fiend into Greywind. But this was different stronger, colder, more ancient. This was the soul of a devil.
But it was Jannis's reaction that truly consumed him.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH !!!"
Her voice exploded within him not in his ears, but in his very soul. This was no mere moan of pleasure; it was a full psychic climax from his patron. A wave of intense heat swept through his body from sole to crown, followed by an uncontrollable shuddering. it was vulgar, overwhelming, and utterly sating for the entity bound to him.
"A devil... a true devil... you gave it to me..." she panted, her voice thick with gratification. "I am... sated... for a time..."
Greywind nearly buckled, holding himself upright only by the stump of his broken sword. He gasped for air.
The vault fell into a sudden, ringing silence, broken only by the crackle of dying fires and Lyra's heavy breathing beside him. Smoke coiled toward the ceiling. On the floor lay three corpses: Valerius, the Imp, and the Barbed Devil.