The group stood before the final barrier.
Massive doors of black metal, carved with scenes of destruction and triumph. Worlds burning. Civilizations falling. A metal figure standing victorious over it all. Beyond them, the great inner sanctum. Beyond that, Supremus. Beyond that, everything.
The air itself seemed to press against them. Even Shelove, usually steady, tensed, a low growl building in her throat. Daggeroth's hand trembled on his bow, though his face showed only focus. Koronos gripped the Sword of Otepi, feeling its weight, its readiness, its hunger.
Corvannafax had survived too many battles not to know when something was wrong. "This is too easy," she said.
Daggeroth looked at her, confused. "Too easy?"
She shook her head, correcting herself. "Okay, maybe not easy. But something feels off. Maybe he knows we're here. Perhaps he's waiting?"
Koronos didn't hesitate. "Then we don't keep him waiting." He reached for the doors.
They didn't open slowly. They didn't open dramatically.
They exploded outward, from out of the door itself. It was imbedded in the huge, heavy doors.
Smoke and debris blasted into the corridor. Through it, a shape emerged. Massive. Wrong. A construct of black metal and molten light, easily three times the height of a man, it was in two halves that melded together. Its body was a nightmare of fused plates and jagged edges. Its head, if it could be called that, was a mass of glowing orange cracks, like a heart of fire encased in iron. And its mouth, a hinged maw with jagged black stone that opened to reveal flames building in its throat.
It exhaled. Fire erupted in a stream, consuming the corridor ahead. The group scattered, diving behind columns, into alcoves, anywhere the flames could not reach. Stone cracked from the heat. The air itself seemed to burn.
Corvannafax yelled over the roar, "We can't fight that here! Too tight! Too much fire!"
Koronos was already moving, the Sword blazing, drawing the creature's attention. "Then we draw it out! Open ground! Give us room to move!"
They retreated, the guardian following, its massive form filling the corridor, its fire lighting the darkness.
The larger chamber was a crossroads of corridors with high ceilings and scattered debris. Better. Not good, but better.
The guardian followed, and the true fight began.
It was brutal from the first moment. The creature swung massive arms that could crush stone. It breathed fire in waves that forced them to scatter, regroup, scatter again. Its metal hide turned aside blades that would have felled lesser foes. It can't constantly breathe fire, it takes time to recuperate it's breath weapon. It's in these moments when it can be attacked directly.
Koronos discovered he could split the flames around himself with the Sword of Otepi, the blade parting the fire like a ship through water. The others had no such protection. They dodged, rolled, ran or anything to stay ahead or out of the inferno.
Shelove hated the fire. Through the Bond, Koronos felt her fear, her fury, her desperate need to fight rather than flee. He sent back calm, reassurance, soon; as best as he could, given the circumstances.
The team dynamic emerged from chaos. Daggeroth circled, loosing arrow after arrow that sparked uselessly against the guardian's hide. He was looking for joints, weak points, anything. So far, nothing. Shelove darted in and out, her claws raking across the creature's legs. Sparks flew, but little else. The guardian barely noticed. Koronos engaged directly, the Sword of Otepi leaving glowing gashes in the metal. Each wound slowed the creature for a moment, but never stopped it. Corvannafax fought beside him, her crystal blade finding the same targets, the same joints, the same futility.
They weren't winning.
Corvannafax realized it first. This fight couldn't be won like this. The guardian was too strong, too focused, too singular. It needed to be split. Distracted. She yelled to Koronos, her voice urgent over the chaos. "I can draw it! Lead it away! Give you time to reach the doors!"
His answer was immediate. "No."
She pressed, "It's the only way! You know it! I'm fast! I can survive!"
He looked at her, locking eyes and she saw something in his silvery eyes she never saw, she thought to herself, 'he fears something. Not of the creature. Not for himself. Of losing me?'
"We fight together," he said. It was a command but sounded a bit like a plea. "We've come this far together. We finish it together."
She could not refuse him.
Koronos stopped retreating. Stopped dodging.
He planted his feet, raised the Sword of Otepi, and called. His Everliving nature flared: not the uncontrolled flicker of translocation, but something deeper, older, more primal. The Sword answered, blazing with light that hurt to look at, that pushed back the darkness, that remembered.
For a moment, he was not just a man. He was Otepi's champion.
The guardian lunged, maw opening for another blast of fire. Koronos met it. The Sword arced through the air, through the flame, through the metal of its neck. For one impossible moment, blade and fire and metal coexisted. Then the guardian's head separated from its body.
The flames died. The massive construct crashed to the ground, shaking the entire chamber. The impact sent dust and debris flying.
Silence.
For one heartbeat, they had won.
And then the trap sprang. From corridors they hadn't seen, from shadows they hadn't had the time to check, they came. Dozens of metal constructs, smaller than the guardian, but many. They flooded the chamber like a tide of black metal and green light. The chaos was immediate.
Koronos was forced one way, cutting through constructs, trying to reach her. Daggeroth and Shelove went another, fighting back-to-back, surviving by inches.
Corvannafax stood alone for a moment, blade raised, ready. Then they overwhelmed her. Not with violence, with weight. Too many. Too fast. She cut down three, four, five but there were always more. Arms grabbed her. Metal hands closed around her wrists, her waist, her throat. She fought: kicked, twisted, and screamed but they did not relent.
They pulled her toward the corridor toward the inner sanctum. Toward Supremus.
From across the chamber, Koronos roared. She heard him, felt him trying to reach her, cutting through construct after construct. But there were too many. The doors began to close.
Their eyes met for one final moment. She didn't look afraid. She looked furious.
Then the doors slammed shut.
She was thrown to the floor before Supremus.
Corvannafax struggled to her knees, chains already being wrapped around her wrists, her ankles. She looked up at the metal demigod and then at Zeyzey, standing near, her face carved of wood, revealing nothing.
A confused look crossed Corvannafax's face for a moment. Zeyzey. Here. Alive. With him. Then the warrior reasserted itself. Questions later. Survival now.
Supremus studied her like a collector studying a broken artifact as the constructs went back out to join the ongoing fight with Koronos.
"Another relic of a forgotten realm," he said, contempt dripping from every word. "The Reds thought they could challenge me? Your empire will burn. Sleeping Dragon will feel my divine wrath soon, Red Malatak."
He stopped. His glowing green eyes narrowed. He looked at her, his gaze lingered and something shifted. Her golden hair, matted with blood but still catching the light. Her yellow eyes, blazing with defiance. The way she held herself, even in chains, even defeated.
For a moment, he was not looking at Corvannafax. He was looking at Otepi. Something moved behind that metal face. A memory. A wound. A ghost. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper. "You... your golden hair... it reminds me of her..."
The moment hung in the air. Fragile. Dangerous. Then he turned away. The mask slammed back into place. The destroyer of worlds returned. "It won't save you," he said, his voice cold again. "Nothing will."
Corvannafax said nothing. She just watched him with those yellow eyes.
Outside in the halls, Koronos still fought. Constructs fell to his blade, but more kept coming. Daggeroth and Shelove fought beside him, battered, exhausted, running on will alone.
Corvannafax was alone.
In the throne room, in chains, before a demigod, she felt the weight of failure pressing down. But her eyes still blazed. Her heart still beat. Her will was still hers. She didn't know if Koronos would reach her. She didn't know if anyone could. But she knew one thing: if she got free, if she got a chance, she would make Supremus regret every moment of this. If that was even possible.