Dante's shadows spread wider, covering the retreat. Forming walls of darkness that shells crashed against uselessly. Death-knights moving through the service passage in organized groups. Ward-keepers following. Almost clear. Almost safe.
A shell broke through on the left flank.
One of his death-knights went down under four of them before anyone could reach her. The death-pulse hit the network. Shock, pain, the desperate thought that this couldn't be how it ended.
A hundred and nineteen.
Dante's shadows lashed out, destroying the shells, sealing the gap.
"Keep moving! Don't stop for the dead?—"
Golden light erupted across the chamber.
From everywhere at once.
The ward-stones cracked under the surge. Every instinct he possessed screamed warning.
He spun toward the center.
Caelum stood there.
Light blazed around him. Power radiated in waves that made the stone crack beneath his feet. His perfect features twisted with rage.
A man watching everything crumble to ash.
His gaze swept the chamber. The sealed gateway. The restored ward-stones. The evidence of his failure.
Then landed on Brynn.
She was swaying near the sealed gateway. Exhausted beyond anything a mortal should survive. Blood running from her nose and mouth. Hands charred from touching corrupted ward-work.
But alive. Triumphant.
The mortal who'd destroyed his perfect plan.
Dante saw the exact moment Caelum's rage fixed on her.
"You." Caelum took a step toward her. His voice shook. "A thief. A mortal criminal. You ruined everything."
Dante shadow-stepped between them before thought could form. His shadows spread wide, creating a wall of darkness between Caelum and everything that mattered.
"It's over, Caelum." His voice was dead calm. The quiet that preceded annihilation. "Your harvest is done. Your gateway is sealed. Stand down."
"Over?" Caelum's laugh cracked. "OVER? Centuries of work. Perfection within my grasp. And you think one mortal thief can just?—"
"She closed your gateway. She undid your corruption in minutes. She won."
Caelum's smile turned vicious. "A thief. The great Reaper, reduced to protecting street trash. She'll be dust in decades while you remain for eternity. Was she really worth?—"
Behind Dante, another shell broke through.
A death-knight's scream cut off mid-sound.
A hundred and twenty.
His attention split for one second. One critical heartbeat as he coordinated the response.
And Caelum moved.
