The remaining orcs pull back slightly. Their leader stands among them, still grinning despite the corpses of his warriors littering the hall.
"You should surrender," I call out, trying to keep my voice steady despite my ragged breathing. "The fortress is surrounded."
The orc leader throws back his head and laughs. His warriors join in, their mocking voices echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
"Surrounded?" He tosses his massive axe from hand to hand with practiced ease. "Brave words, little elf. But you're bleeding. Your friend's limping." His amber eyes gleam with cruel amusement. "We both know you won't make it through another charge."
My arms shake with exhaustion. Blood drips steadily from my wounded shoulder. Blaire leans heavily against my back, her breathing labored and uneven.
"So this is it," Blaire breathes, a faint smile on her lips. "At least we'll die together."
But I am not ready to die. Not when there's still one desperate option left to us.
I drop to one knee and begin carving symbols into the stone floor with my knife.
"Rhianelle…" Blaire breathes as she watches me finish the first curve, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."
"Miss Bernadette is the only one powerful enough to get us out of this," I reply, continuing to carve despite the way my hands shake. Blood from my wounded shoulder drips onto the stone, mixing with the grooves I'm etching. "She owes me a favor."
Blaire grabs my arm, her eyes wide with panic. "She'll kill us all!"
"Maybe," I admit, adding the inner sigil to the summoning circle. "But she'll kill them first."
The orcs have started to advance, their confidence growing as they realize we're trapped with nowhere left to run.
"Surrender, elflings," the leader rumbles from behind the bodies. "Come quietly and we might let you die quickly."
Blaire responds with a vulgar gesture entirely unfitting for a Maiden of Arawynn.
Let her taunt him. I need more time to complete the circle.
My blade carves the final curve, connecting the last sigil to the first. I place my palm flat against the center of the summoning mark. "From the darkness before the first dawn, rise Ender of light. By my will, I bind you to form. Come forth, Devourer of gods—"
The air in the hall suddenly grows cold. My breath mists white before my face. I pause, my raised hand hovering above the incomplete summoning.
The torches die one by one, snuffed by invisible hands. The orcs notice it too. Their advance falters as darkness pools around their feet.
One steps back, his weapon trembling. "What is this—?"
Tendrils of shadow wrap around him and lift him off his feet. He releases one strangled scream. Then the darkness swallows him entirely, leaving nothing behind but the echo of his terror. The remaining orcs panic and desperately scatter toward the entrance.
They don't make it far.
Another orc is seized mid-stride, pulled backward into the void. He vanishes without a sound. Then another and another. One by one, the darkness takes them.
Their swords swing uselessly at shadows that flow like smoke. Some try to run for the side passages, but there's nowhere to go. The darkness is everywhere now, flowing across the walls and ceiling like a tide of absolute night.
Relief floods through me.
Aelfric and Darstan did it. They found the human deed-holder and forced him to speak the words… or perhaps the merchant did not survive the fighting. I hope the man lives, even if his death would serve as well as a spoken invitation.
Either way, the vampire has been invited in.
And now the fortress belongs to death.
The last orc disappears into the hungry dark with a strangled whimper. The shadows begin to recede, flowing back toward the broken windows like a tide returning to the sea.
Blaire seizes my hand. "We need to leave. Now."
