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His eyes burn with rage, and he steps back as if trying to regain control of himself. “Foolish girl,” he hisses. “You are not meant to die yet.” His hands tremble slightly as he tightens his grip on the dagger, but his focus wavers.

Seizing the moment, I explode forward, twisting my body as I launch one of my daggers straight at his chest as every muscle screams for vengeance. He dodges at the last second, but it grazes his shoulder, drawing dark ichor instead of blood. Snarling, he retaliates, his strikes becoming more feral, more desperate. I duck and weave, dodging deadly arcs of his cursed blade until I find an opening. With a burst of speed, I drive my remaining dagger into his sternum.

His eyes widen in shock as the blade sinks deep, the hum of the Void Dagger faltering as his grip weakens. He stumbles backward, the green light in his eyes dimming.

Wasting no time, I sweep Triona into my arms, her blood soaking into my tunic as I carry her. She clings to me with surprising strength. “Hold on,” I murmur, my voice a mix of desperation and determination.

I turn toward the exit, my heart pounding as I navigate the uneven path. The chamber seems to shudder behind us, the faint hum of magic fading into silence. Then, a sound breaks through the stillness—the sickening, wet drag of steel being wrenched from flesh. I hear Indech struggling, and reality crashes down on me like a tidal wave—my attempt to kill him failed. He’s still got fight left in him. This isn’t over.

A cold certainty settles in my chest. There’s only one choice now. I push forward, each step carrying me deeper into the only decision that matters now—saving her, no matter the cost.

I push forward, Triona’s weight heavy in my arms as her blood drips steadily onto the stone floor. The path narrows before widening again, leading us to another door—smaller but equally foreboding. The surface shimmers faintly, etched with glowing patterns that seem to pulse in time with the hum of the artefact still clutched tightly in her arms.

“It’s sealed,” I mutter, glancing at the faint outline of symbols. I shift Triona, leaning her against the wall for a moment as I reach for the intricate carvings. The moment my hand brushes the surface, it flares with light, the glow briefly illuminating the chamber. Then, with a low groan, the door slides open, revealing the tunnel beyond.

The faint glimmer of hope I felt reaching the exit vanishes as I see the gate—a towering iron barrier that looms like a fortress wall. Its massive, interlocking bars are wrought from iron and reinforced with glowing runes, pulsating faintly with an energy that suggests ancient fortification. I set Triona down once more as I assess what’s in front of me. My eyes dart to the lever mechanism mounted on the wall nearby, a counterweighted system meant to lift the gate from the inside.

I can hear Triona’s ragged breaths behind me, and every second we linger feels like a lifetime. The lever groans faintly when I tug it, but the rusted chain anchoring the counterweight barely shifts.

I spot a weak point—a chain-link that’s almost worn through. My stomach knots as I realise there’s likely only one chance to get this gate open before the weak link snaps entirely. I remove Triona’s daggers, to replace the ones I lost, and brace myself.

Sliding one dagger into the weakened link, I wedge the other against the lever for clout. My muscles burn as I push with everything I have, the sound of groaning metal filling the air. With a final, desperate kick, the chain snaps, the mechanism screeching in protest as the gate jolts upward just enough to leave a narrow gap. The finality of the decision hits me like a blow, but I don’t let myself stop.

“Come on,” I whisper, sweeping Triona into my arms. Her blood-soaked leg dangles and her head lolls weakly against my chest. I position her carefully, angling her through the gap with everything I have.

My chest tightens as I watch her hit the ground harder than I wanted, her body crumpling into the dirt. The sound is gut-wrenching, and a sharp pang of guilt pierces through me. For a moment, I can’t breathe, my vision blurring with panic. Relief washes over me when I see her stir, weak but aware. Then I spot Callan running toward us, his face twisting into pure terror as his eyes lock onto Triona’s bloodied leg, and the exhaustion etched into her features.

His panicked voice cuts through the heavy air. “What happened?” He looks up briefly, terror clear. I watch as he assesses her wounds—eyes widening at the severity—eyes flitting between her pale face and blood pooling at her leg. I force myself to stay rooted, to give him the space to act without my panic clouding the moment.

“A man named Indech followed us in. The defensive barrier at the entrance failed to hold,” I say, my voice deliberate and sharp, each word carrying the weight of urgency. My chest seethes with a fury that is only intensified as I witness the dawning comprehension of his expression.

“The weapon responsible for that—he called it a Void Dagger,” I continue, my tone tightening. “He said it severs magic. Callan, his intent was never to end her life but to claim her. Take her from here now. I believe he’s alive... and he willnae be far behind.” Callan wavers, his expression hovering between understanding and hesitation as he considers my position.

“Finn... please tell me ye aren’t going through with this,” he says, with much vacillation in his face.

“We both understood the cost, Cal.”

Then I hear it—the metallic groan of the gate above. The chain, weakened and strained, shudders violently, its links trembling under the weight.

Snap.

The sound is deafening in the still air.

Part 9 – Let Inner Strength Unchain with Might

38

When Light Fades

Triona

Sunday, 22 June 1823

County Meath, Ireland

Formerly Province of Mide: Seat of the High Kings

Adistant shout claws at my senses, dragging me back to the brutal, suffocating reality around me. My body trembles under the weight of blood loss, and my mind teeters between panic and disorientation. The wound on my thigh throbs mercilessly, a searing reminder of the dagger’s cruel gift. Blood pools beneath me, mixing with the cold sweat, as black spots pepper the edges of my sight.