Chapter three. The amulet.

Chapter Three: The Amulet

Avery slipped through the door at the end of the hallway, the faint creak of old wood swallowed by the oppressive silence that filled the air. She glanced back at the remnants of the triggered traps, the twisted mechanisms and jagged metal teeth that had narrowly missed claiming her life. The whole corridor felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for her to make the next move. She knew she had just navigated a space meticulously designed to kill, but a nagging doubt lingered at the edge of her mind. What if this was only the beginning? It would make sense—they were trying to kill her because they knew she had escaped. They couldn’t afford to let her go.

Avery paused, her movements quiet and deliberate, her body tensed like a coiled spring. There was now a confidence in her stride that hadn’t been there before, a subtle ease that came from wielding power she was beginning to understand. The dark magic inside her no longer felt wild or foreign; it was becoming a part of her, something she could bend and shape to her will. This newfound control filled her with a fierce sense of purpose, like a blade that had finally found its edge.

But she wasn’t alone in her mind. Andromeda’s presence seeped into her thoughts, the devil’s voice smooth and dark, coiling like smoke around her consciousness. “See what you can do when you use the gifts I’ve given you?” Andromeda’s tone was both seductive and mocking, a constant reminder of the pact that bound them. “You’re a roaring derby of destruction, Avery. But don’t get too cocky.”

Avery tightened her grip on her sword, feeling a chill run down her spine. Andromeda’s words hung in her mind like a dark cloud, twisting through her thoughts. She couldn’t shake the feeling of her patron’s watchful eyes, ever-present and judging. “I want my artifact. I’ll give you a hint. You’re getting close.”

Her heart quickened, not just from the lingering rush of adrenaline but from the weight of her mission pressing down on her. She was close—closer than she’d ever been since this twisted game had begun. The artifact’s pull was faint but insistent, like a whisper at the back of her mind, urging her forward. But Andromeda’s expectations loomed over her like a heavy shroud, sharp and unyielding, threatening to cut her down if she strayed too far from her path.

Avery moved cautiously, every sense on high alert. The dimly lit passageway seemed to stretch on endlessly, the torchlight flickering along the damp stone walls. She could feel the dark magic simmering beneath her skin, a dangerous current ready to surge at the slightest provocation. She had fought too hard, clawed her way out of too many pits, to stumble now. Every breath was a reminder of the cost of failure, and Avery was determined not to pay it.

Luck, if it could be called that, brought her to a disused chamber hidden behind a half-rotted door. She pushed it open, her steps dragging as she slipped inside and pressed her back against the cold stone wall. The room was dark and cluttered, filled with forgotten odds and ends, crates, and old furniture that hadn’t seen light in years. Avery sank to the floor, her body heavy with exhaustion as she tried to gather her thoughts, her limbs trembling with the aftermath of the last fight.

How long had it been since she’d set foot in this fortress? Three months? Five? Time had lost all meaning, each day bleeding into the next, a relentless cycle of pain, violence, and survival. She was beyond tired; she was worn to the bone, her magic fraying at the edges, spent after pushing herself to the brink time and time again. She needed rest, desperately, but even in this moment of quiet, Andromeda’s presence made it impossible to feel at ease.

Andromeda’s voice cut through her mind like a blade, sharp and demanding. “You’re close, Avery. I can feel it—the power of the artifact is practically in your grasp. You don’t get to rest now.”

Avery clenched her jaw, frustration boiling over as she fought to keep her composure. Andromeda’s presence was suffocating, an oppressive weight pressing down on her already weary mind. The devil’s impatience was a constant, clawing at her thoughts, pushing her to move faster, to sacrifice more. But Avery had reached her limit. She couldn’t keep going, not like this.

“I need a fucking moment!” Avery spat, her voice raw with anger and exhaustion. She pushed back against Andromeda’s relentless demands, refusing to be bullied. “I don’t care if you’re impatient. I’ve been beaten, tortured, and nearly raped. I’m done being your obedient little soldier for just one fucking second.”

There was a long, tense silence, and Avery could feel Andromeda’s anger simmering just beneath the surface, hot and volatile. But Avery didn’t care. She was past caring. Her body screamed for rest, her magic drained to the point of emptiness. She didn’t have the luxury of pushing forward, not without collapsing under the weight of it all.

“You think I care what you’ve been through?” Andromeda’s voice lashed back, dripping with venom. “I gave you power, and I expect you to use it. I expect results.”

Avery’s hands shook, but she didn’t back down. “And I need a fucking break. You’re not the one bleeding out in some forgotten room, barely hanging on. I’ll get you your damn artifact, but right now, I’m done.”

Andromeda’s presence flared, a hot, seething rage that pounded in Avery’s skull, but Avery shut her eyes, trying to block her out. She had given everything she had, and still, it wasn’t enough for her patron. But she needed this. Just a moment to reclaim some fragment of her strength before she plunged back into the darkness.

Andromeda’s final words were a venomous whisper, a threat that hung in the air like a shadow. “Don’t make me regret choosing you, Avery. Get up, or I will find someone who will.”

Avery didn’t respond. She slumped back against the wall, her eyes heavy, letting her mind go quiet for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She didn’t care about Andromeda’s impatience, not now. She had fought too hard, sacrificed too much, to let herself break completely. She needed this time, this brief, fragile moment of peace. And no devil’s demands would take that from her. Not tonight.

Part Two

Avery’s mind pounded, each throb a relentless reminder of pain and fatigue that blurred her thoughts. She had meant to rest for an hour, just long enough to regain her strength and let her magic replenish, but exhaustion had dragged her under far deeper than she’d planned. What should have been a brief respite had turned into hours lost in darkness, her body finally succumbing to the weight of all it had endured.

The tower buzzed with frantic activity. Guards scoured every corner, every shadowed hall, hunting for the warlock who had slipped through their grasp. Their shouts and hurried footsteps echoed through the stone walls, growing closer and more desperate. Avery lay slumped against the cold wall, oblivious to the chaos outside, trapped in a heavy, dreamless sleep that held her hostage.

But peace, even in sleep, was fleeting. Avery’s world shattered back into harsh reality as Andromeda’s voice tore into her mind with vengeful fury, a searing presence flaring like fire behind her eyes. It wasn’t just a nudge or a whisper—it was an assault, a violent intrusion that sent white-hot pain lancing through her skull.

“Wake the fuck up!” Andromeda’s voice exploded in Avery’s mind, the force of it like nails driving into her brain. Avery jolted awake, heart racing, gasping as she was ripped from the depths of her exhausted slumber. The room spun, and she barely registered her surroundings before hearing the faint creak of the door opening.

Someone was there, pushing the door ajar. Avery’s instincts flared to life, adrenaline surging despite the overwhelming fog of fatigue. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, but the pain in her head was relentless, amplified by Andromeda’s fury. The devil’s rage was palpable, seething with a vicious impatience that clawed at Avery’s thoughts.

“You had one job, and you fell asleep like a useless sack of flesh!” Andromeda’s voice roared, each word stabbing into Avery’s mind with renewed intensity. Avery bit back a scream, clutching her head as the agony ripped through her. She staggered to her feet, barely able to keep her balance, just as the door swung wider.

A guard stepped into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of her—vulnerable and disoriented. Avery’s heart pounded, fear and anger clashing violently within her. She had seconds—seconds to react, to gather her wits, and fend off the sudden rush of danger.

Andromeda’s presence hung heavy, a constant, furious reminder of her failure. Avery’s hands shook, but she pushed through the pain, forcing herself to focus. The rest she’d stolen had cost her more than time; it had nearly cost her everything. But she wasn’t done, not yet. She clenched her jaw, ready to face whatever came next, even with Andromeda’s wrath burning at the back of her mind.

Avery and the guard locked eyes, both frozen in the split second of shared realization—what to do, what to do. The guard’s surprise quickly twisted into aggression. He ripped his sword from its sheath, the blade gleaming in the faint light of the chamber. There was no hesitation in his strike, driven by the urgency of finding her.

Avery’s body reacted instinctively, her hand shooting up, fingers clawing at the air as she summoned every last shred of energy she had left. Dark tendrils of magic swirled around her arm, coalescing into two seething bolts of crackling, violet energy that erupted from her palm. The air sizzled with raw, furious power that surged forward, aimed directly at the guard.

The first bolt struck his chest with a thunderous impact, throwing him back as if he’d been hit by a battering ram. He slammed against the stone wall, breath torn from his lungs in a violent gasp. His armor buckled under the assault, bending inward as dark, smoking tendrils clawed at his flesh. His eyes widened in pain and terror, the force of the blast knocking the sword from his grip, sending it clattering uselessly to the ground.

Before he could recover, the second bolt tore through the air, striking him square in the side. His body twisted unnaturally, bones crunching under the immense force as he was flung sideways, crashing into the stacked crates and debris that littered the room. Splinters and shards of wood exploded around him, and he collapsed to the ground, writhing as the residual energy seared through his body, burning with relentless, dark heat.

The guard’s screams filled the chamber, short and desperate, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as the violent energy ravaged his nerves. Smoke rose from his armor, and his skin blistered where the blasts had struck, leaving deep, angry welts. He struggled to breathe, his chest heaving in a futile attempt to draw air, his strength quickly fading under the onslaught of Avery’s magic.

Avery’s chest heaved, her vision blurred from the rush of power she had unleashed. She could feel the magic thrumming in her veins, still burning hot and wild, and it took every ounce of her control to reel it back in. The guard’s body lay crumpled against the wall, broken and still—a testament to the brutal force she wielded when cornered. But there was no time to linger; every second counted now, and the noise would surely draw more.

Avery steadied herself, heart pounding as she forced her trembling limbs to move. The guard was down, but the fight was far from over, and Andromeda’s searing presence in the back of her mind made it clear: she had to keep going.

Avery stared at the guard’s lifeless body, her breath catching in her throat. Panic surged, icy and relentless, the reality of what she had done sinking in. The guard’s crumpled form was a stark reminder of the chaos she was entangled in, and she knew she had only moments before the noise of the fight drew more attention. She couldn’t stay, couldn’t risk being seen as herself, bloodied and unmistakably out of place.

Her thoughts raced, urgency pounding in her ears, and without even realizing it, Avery’s magic responded to her fear. It wasn’t a conscious choice but a reflex, a primal survival instinct that surged from deep within her. The dark magic wrapped around her like a living shadow, shifting and bending, mimicking the guard’s appearance as easily as an octopus blends into rocks.

Avery’s skin rippled as the magic wove over her, cloaking her in a mirage that morphed her features with unsettling fluidity. The cold, dark tendrils seeped into her flesh, altering her skin tone to match the guard’s pale hue. Her eyes flickered, shifting from their usual haunted depths to a dull, ordinary brown. The sharp, pointed edges of her ears softened, blending seamlessly into the disguise. Her hair, wild and disheveled from battle, darkened into the familiar, unremarkable shade of the guard she had just killed.

She looked down at her hands, no longer her own but the rough, calloused hands of the man who had tried to end her. The transformation was unsettlingly complete, the guard’s image reflected back at her, down to the smallest detail. Avery swallowed hard, heart still racing, feeling the strange disconnect between her true self and the disguise her magic had crafted. It was instinctual, a reflex born from years of survival, of knowing when to hide and when to strike.

She forced herself to stand tall, straightening her posture to match that of the guard’s rigid stance. There was no time to second-guess, no time to let fear paralyze her. The illusion was perfect, but it wouldn’t matter if she couldn’t pull off the act. She knew she had limited time—just enough to blend, to move unseen in the guise of the man she had taken down.

Avery glanced back at the door, every sense on high alert, the disguise clinging to her like a second skin. The magic tingled against her, alive and restless, a constant reminder of what she was capable of when desperation took hold. She took a deep breath, pushing back the panic that threatened to consume her. She had to play the part now, to keep moving, and to hope the facade would hold long enough to give her the edge she needed.

Like clockwork, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder with every second. Avery steadied herself, slipping seamlessly into the guard’s posture, her disguise a thin layer of protection between her and immediate death. She barely had time to gather her thoughts before a group of guards rounded the corner, their expressions tense, weapons at the ready.

“Hey, what happened?” one of the guards barked as he approached Avery, his eyes scanning the room, lingering on the disarray and faint scorch marks from her earlier attack. Avery’s heart raced, but she forced a calm expression, masking the surge of anxiety that threatened to betray her.

Quick on her toes, Avery shrugged and gestured dismissively at the mess around her. “I just knocked over some random trash,” she said, voice gruff and casual, doing her best to mimic the tone and demeanor of the guard she’d just killed. “You know how this place is. One wrong move and everything’s falling apart.”

The first guard looked annoyed, his face twisting into a scowl as he glanced around the dimly lit chamber. “Be more careful,” he snapped, his frustration clear. “This bitch could be anywhere, and she’s already killed a handful of us. We can’t afford any more slip-ups.”

Avery nodded, playing the part, her pulse hammering in her ears as she silently hoped her disguise would hold. The guard’s words stung, but she kept her expression neutral, forcing herself to stay in character. She had to make them believe she was just another soldier on the hunt, not the warlock they were all so desperately trying to catch.

“I don’t get it,” the guard continued, his voice tinged with irritation as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Why doesn’t she just leave? She’s already escaped—what the hell is she still doing here?”

Avery fought the urge to smirk, keeping her face blank. If only they knew how close she was to her goal, how much was riding on her presence in this damned place. But she couldn’t afford to let even a flicker of emotion show. She was playing a dangerous game, balancing on the knife’s edge between survival and exposure.

“She’s probably just trying to make things difficult for us,” Avery muttered, keeping her tone dismissive, mirroring the guard’s frustration. “Trying to get in our heads. But we’ll find her.”

The guards nodded, their suspicions momentarily appeased as they moved deeper into the chamber, weapons drawn and eyes scanning the shadows. Avery kept her expression calm, holding the disguise steady until the moment their backs were turned. She slipped away with practiced ease, keeping her pace measured as she exited the room, the façade of calm masking the roiling panic beneath.

The instant she crossed the threshold, Avery’s composure broke. She bolted down the corridor, her boots striking the stone floor in rapid, urgent strides. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, each one laced with the adrenaline of narrowly escaping exposure. She took the first turn she saw, skidding slightly as she rounded the corner, her mind racing as fast as her legs. Every second mattered now; the guards were only moments away from discovering the gruesome truth of their fallen comrade.

She could practically hear it: the shocked cries, the clatter of armor as they realized the guard who had spoken to them was not who they thought. They would find the body—twisted, burned, unmistakably dead—and then they would be on her trail, angrier and more desperate than ever. Avery’s only chance was to put as much distance between herself and that room as possible, and she sprinted through the winding corridors, her lungs burning with the effort.

The hallways twisted and turned in a maze of stone and shadow, and Avery forced herself to keep moving, pushing past the throbbing ache in her limbs and the sharp sting of exhaustion threatening to drag her down. The flickering torches blurred in her peripheral vision, but she paid them no mind, her focus solely on getting away, on staying one step ahead of the danger she had narrowly evaded.

Every instinct screamed at her to keep going, to not look back. Her disguise still held, but she knew it was only a thin layer of protection—a mirage that could shatter with the slightest misstep. She could feel the magic straining, the adrenaline barely enough to keep it intact as she ran. Avery’s thoughts were a tangled mess of survival and strategy, her mind calculating every twist and turn, every possible route that could lead her closer to the artifact and farther from those who would drag her back into chains.

She took another sharp turn, then another, moving deeper into the labyrinth of the fortress, each step taking her further away from the guards she’d just deceived. But she knew she couldn’t stop, not yet. There was no telling how long it would take for them to sound the alarm, but Avery had no intention of waiting to find out. She pressed on, heart hammering, every nerve on edge as she continued her frantic escape.

But the drawback of running blindly through unfamiliar territory hit Avery hard—literally. She rounded a corner at full speed, only to slam into another figure with bone-jarring force. The impact sent her reeling, and she staggered back, blinking in surprise as she took in the sight of the person she’d collided with: not a guard, but a figure draped in elaborate robes, a strange, ornate crown perched on their head and a staff gripped tightly in one hand.

Avery’s senses flared, immediately picking up the scent and feel of powerful, foreign magic radiating off the stranger in waves. It was nothing like the dark, familiar energy that simmered within her—this was sharp, invasive, and cloying, like an unfamiliar perfume that clung too close. The robed figure’s eyes flicked over her with a calculating, almost predatory gaze, instantly piercing through her disguise with unsettling ease.

Before Avery could react, the other magic user’s expression twisted with sudden fury, their hand snapping up as they instinctively cast a spell of their own. Raw, unfiltered magic exploded from their palm, hitting Avery square in the chest and sending her flying backward with brutal force. She crashed against the wall, sprawling out on the cold stone floor, the wind knocked from her lungs as pain shot through her entire body.

“Imposter!” the robed figure screamed, their voice laced with venom and outrage. They followed up with another spell, then another, each burst of searing energy lashing at Avery like whips of fire and light. She rolled, dodging desperately as the chamber filled with crackling magic, the air charged with the chaotic clash of their powers. Each strike was relentless, battering her defenses as she fought to stay one step ahead.

Avery’s mind spun, heart pounding as she struggled to figure out what to do next. The robed magic user was relentless, their spells coming fast and furious, each one designed to overpower and subdue. She scrambled to her feet, barely managing to avoid a bolt of energy that splintered the floor where she’d just been lying, sending shards of stone skittering across the room.

She darted to the side, breath ragged, muscles aching with every frantic movement. Avery’s own magic strained against her control, instincts screaming at her to retaliate, to fight back with everything she had. But the onslaught kept coming, the robed figure screaming obscenities with every cast, each word dripping with contempt and fury.

Avery gritted her teeth, dodging another vicious spell that sent sparks flying inches from her face. She needed to think, needed to find a way to turn the tide before she was completely overwhelmed. The robed figure’s magic was a storm, and Avery was caught in the center of it, battered and bleeding but still fighting to survive.

Avery’s pulse pounded in her ears as the figure loomed before her, draped in crimson robes that flickered with the heat of conjured flames. The air between them was charged, thick with hostile magic that hung like a suffocating shroud. Avery’s gaze locked onto the mage’s furious eyes, blazing with a power that felt like standing too close to an open furnace. There was something unmistakable in their posture, the aggressive stance, and the ease with which they commanded the flames that seared the air. It hit Avery with a jolt of recognition—this wasn’t just any magic user.

It was a Red Mage.

Stories of their kind had reached Avery’s ears, whispered tales of ruthless spellcasters known for wielding raw, destructive power with little regard for anything or anyone in their path. They were feared for their merciless nature, capable of bending fire, lightning, and sheer force to their will, often with devastating results. Avery had never faced one before, and the sudden realization sent a chill through her bones, starkly contrasting the heat radiating from her opponent.

The Red Mage’s staff swung upward, and Avery’s instincts screamed at her to move. A torrent of flames erupted from the mage’s outstretched hand, roaring toward her with the fury of a vengeful beast. Avery dove to the side, the intense heat licking at her skin as she barely dodged the attack. The air was hot and heavy, the fire’s breath searing the space she’d just occupied.

Scrambling to her feet, Avery’s mind raced. She could feel the strain of her earlier battles, the magic within her nearly tapped out, but she couldn’t afford to hesitate. Thrusting her hand forward, she reached out to the chaotic inferno, summoning the dark energy within her to twist the flames. The fire bent to her will, flickering and reshaping as she wrested control from the Red Mage, flinging the blaze back toward them.

The mage deflected the redirected flames with a snarl, swinging their staff in a wide arc that sent the fire scattering harmlessly against the walls. But Avery seized the moment of distraction. With a sharp gesture, she unleashed twin bolts of crackling energy that tore through the air. One struck the mage squarely in the chest, forcing them back, while the other veered off course, exploding against the stone with a blinding flash.

Avery watched the mage’s face twist in a mix of pain and rage. She could see the fire burning in their eyes—relentless, unyielding. Desperate to protect herself, Avery conjured a shimmering ward, feeling the faint, familiar tingle of protective magic ripple across her skin. The Red Mage’s retaliation came swift, a surge of raw, fiery energy that hammered against her hastily summoned barrier. Avery staggered, her arms straining against the force, but the ward held just enough to dull the impact, though it sent her stumbling backward, gasping.

The mage pressed forward, closing the distance between them. They raised their staff, the air crackling with the promise of another devastating spell. Avery knew she had to act fast. She lunged, slashing her sword forward, and poured the last of her magic into the blade. It glowed with a fierce, burning light as she swung, carving through the mage’s robes and searing into flesh. The Red Mage howled, recoiling as smoke billowed from the scorched wound.

But Avery’s brief triumph was cut short. The mage roared in fury, gathering their power in a concentrated burst of force that slammed into Avery with crushing intensity. She was thrown across the room, her back colliding with the stone wall in a jarring impact that stole the breath from her lungs. Pain radiated through every nerve, and she crumpled to the ground, barely able to keep her eyes open as her vision blurred.

Gritting her teeth, Avery refused to surrender. She had nothing left but sheer willpower and the scraps of her strength. As the Red Mage advanced for a final blow, Avery’s instincts flared. She flung her hand outward, conjuring a swirling storm of spectral daggers that materialized between them. The air filled with the deadly hum of spinning blades, a vicious cloud that slashed and tore at the mage with relentless precision.

The Red Mage’s expression twisted in shock and agony as the daggers ripped through their defenses, cutting deep into flesh and fabric. They stumbled, blood spraying as they struggled to fend off the onslaught. The screams that filled the chamber were desperate, each one weaker than the last, until the mage finally collapsed, brought low by the storm of Avery’s dark magic.

But the fight was far from over. In a last act of defiance, the mage mustered enough strength to hurl one final bolt of energy. The blast struck Avery square in the chest, the impact driving her to the ground with a white-hot flare of pain. Darkness clawed at the edges of her vision as she lay there, every breath a struggle, her body refusing to respond.

With trembling hands, Avery forced herself to move, crawling inch by inch toward the wall. She whispered the faintest of incantations, and a flicker of warmth washed over her, just enough to stave off unconsciousness. It was weak, a mere thread of relief, but it was all that kept her tethered to the present.

Avery pulled herself upright, leaning heavily against the wall, her vision still spinning. She had faced one of the most dangerous foes she could imagine and had barely come out on top. The Red Mage lay defeated, but Avery knew the victory was hollow—earned through sheer desperation and luck as much as skill. There was no time to rest, not with the artifact still waiting, and the memory of this battle would haunt her every step.

Avery’s breath rasped in her throat, every inhale a sharp reminder of the battle she had just survived. Her limbs were heavy, aching with every movement, but she forced herself to focus, her eyes settling on the crumpled form of the Red Mage. The searing pain in her chest still burned, but the sight of her fallen opponent filled her with grim satisfaction. This mage had been one of the most powerful threats in this fortress, and now they lay dead at her feet.

Avery dropped to her knees beside the mage’s body, her hands moving quickly and instinctively as she rifled through the bloodstained robes. She was searching for anything—anything that might give her an edge. Her fingers brushed against something cool and smooth, and she pulled it free: a small glass vial filled with swirling, crimson liquid. Avery’s eyes widened in recognition—a health potion, its faint glow promising a reprieve from the agony coursing through her.

“Thank the gods,” she muttered under her breath, not waiting another second. She yanked the cork free with her teeth and downed the potion in one gulp. The liquid burned as it went down, but it brought immediate, soothing relief. The sharpest pains dulled, her bruises knitting together, and the crushing tightness in her chest eased enough for her to draw a full breath. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to keep her going. Avery sighed, the potion working its magic, restoring just enough vitality to clear her mind.

As she continued her search, her hand brushed against something else—a necklace, its chain cool against her skin, and as she pulled it free, she felt a faint, thrumming pulse of power. The amulet was intricate, adorned with strange, swirling symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light. There was no mistaking it: this was no ordinary piece of jewelry. Avery could smell the magic coming off it, a familiar, intoxicating mix of power and potential that sent a thrill through her senses.

She held it up, the chain dangling from her fingers, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “And that’s mine now,” she said to herself, the soft, mocking whisper of victory. Whatever magic was bound within this necklace, it was no longer in the Red Mage’s hands—and now, it was hers to wield.

But as Avery slipped the necklace into her pocket, a new realization hit her, sharp and jarring: the most powerful person in this building was now dead at her feet. The Red Mage, feared by so many, had been stationed here, guarding this very spot. Avery glanced toward the heavy door they had been protecting, her mind racing with possibilities. What lay beyond it had to be important—important enough to warrant a guardian of this caliber.

She stared at the door, breath hitching. There was something significant behind it, something the mage had been tasked to protect at all costs. Avery’s heart quickened with the sudden, undeniable realization: the artifact. It had to be. She was closer than she’d ever been, and with the Red Mage out of the way, the path was finally open.

Avery stood, fingers brushing the hilt of her sword as she approached the door, every sense tingling with anticipation. The mage had been powerful, relentless, but now they were gone, and whatever they had been guarding was within her reach. She couldn’t afford to hesitate—not when she was so close.

With a final glance at the fallen mage, Avery pushed forward, her focus now fixed on what lay beyond. The battle had been brutal, but it had brought her here, to the very threshold of what she’d been fighting for. And now, nothing would stand between her and the prize she’d come so far to claim.