The mountain's heart had collapsed behind them, yet the dimension refused to die quietly. Cracks spiderwebbed across the sky as Faye and Abigail pressed onward through a corridor of black glass that reflected distorted versions of themselves.
The sealed rift still echoed in their bones, but something older and more personal tugged at Faye now, a thread of memory that tightened with every step. Abigail noticed the shift in her companion's stride and slowed, ready to ask, when the corridor ended abruptly at a circular chamber lit by floating braziers of violet fire.
In the center stood a woman draped in tattered midnight silk, her back turned to them. Long silver hair cascaded like liquid moonlight, and the air around her rippled with spells older than the stones beneath their feet.
Faye stopped walking. Every muscle locked as recognition slammed through her. Fifteen years dissolved in an instant, and she was once again the young girl who was in the Grim village, helping the churches protect themselves from the rouge vampires.
The woman turned slowly. Eyes the color of frozen ash fixed on Faye with cruel amusement. "You grew taller," the Witch of Grim said, voice smooth as poured oil. "You're a woman now with five, no, six kids, wow, and with that vampress girl too."
Abigail stepped forward, palms already glowing with defensive sigils, but Faye lifted one hand to halt her. "You know her?" Abigail asked, never taking her gaze from the witch.
"I met her when I was fifteen," Faye answered, voice steady despite the storm inside her chest. "She was the reason vampires were attacking humans in Grim on the border of Conaska."
Abigail's eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. "The curse on the Apex bloodline. The endless wars for territory and power. You authored all of it."
"Authored, nurtured, and savored," the witch confirmed. She spread her arms, and the chamber walls shimmered, revealing phantom images of battlefields across centuries: wolves tearing at one another beneath crimson moons, entire packs driven mad by insatiable hunger for supremacy, villages burning while alphas fought over scraps of imagined throne. "Conflict is the forge that tempers chaos. Without my little gift, your world would have grown soft and stagnant long ago."
Faye's fingers closed around the hilt of her blade, knuckles aching from pressure she refused to release. "Tsk," she said to herself. She knew they hadn't a chance with her.
Abigail began tracing runes in the air, preparing a containment circle, but the witch flicked one finger and the half formed sigils shattered like glass.
Rage burned cold in Faye's veins. She lunged, needles singing from its sheath in a single fluid motion. The witch raised no weapon, merely lifted her hand, and invisible force slammed Faye sideways into the glassy wall hard enough to rattle her teeth. Pain flared across her ribs, but she rolled to her feet, refusing to stay down.
Abigail unleashed a torrent of silver fire that roared across the chamber. The witch sighed, almost bored, and parted the flames with a casual wave, redirecting the blaze into the ceiling where it exploded harmlessly. "Persistent," the witch murmured. "Both of you. That will make the breaking sweeter."
Faye attacked again, this time feinting high and striking low. The needles carved a shallow line across the witch's forearm, drawing a thin ribbon of black blood that smoked where it touched the floor.
Surprise flickered across the ancient face, quickly replaced by delight. The wound healed quickly.
Abigail shifted tactics, no longer attacking directly but layering subtle bindings around the witch's feet, threads of light too fine to notice until they began to tighten. The witch tested one step and found her ankle caught. Irritation flashed across her features. "You think to leash me with parlor tricks?"
"No," Abigail said calmly, continuing to weave. "We think to make you listen."
Faye pressed the advantage, driving forward in a flurry of strikes that forced the witch to divide her attention. Each clash of steel against sorcery sent sparks cascading like falling stars. The witch bled from half a dozen cuts now, none fatal, but each one eroded the aura of invincibility she wore like armor.
Finally pinned by Abigail's completed lattice of binding runes, the witch snarled, power surging outward in a shockwave that cracked the chamber floor. The bindings held, though Abigail dropped to one knee from the strain. Faye planted her needle point down and leaned on it, breathing hard.
"Centuries of war," Faye said between breaths. "Entire bloodlines destroyed."
"Entertainment, balance, evolution," the witch countered. "Take your pick. Chaos must feed somewhere."
"Then feed on this," Faye replied. She wrenched her blade free and drove it through the witch heart in one clean thrust. Black blood welled, hissing as it met enchanted steel. The witch gasped, eyes wide with genuine shock for the first time, but her smile turned into a grin. Her skin, her body began to melt, coming from the binds that Abigal had used to bind her.
She appeared on the other side, laughing a little. The witch shook her head, walking away toward the exit of which she made. With a snap of her finger, Faye and Abigal fell onto the ground of Groken.
They quickly got up and looked around, unable to see any portals. Faye smacked het lips and whiped the air with her needles.
"Try and open a portal," Faye ordered. When the medium tried, nothing. Faye shook her head once more, the witch wad preventing them from entering.
They stood there quiet until Faye looked at Abigal. "Let's go find Sous and report to her what happened. Report to her who's really behind this."
They began to walk in the direction of the safe house although it was argued it wasnt really needed considering how far they had come. Faye looked behind her, just in case she missed something. Hating that the witch got one up on them again.
Abigal turned to Faye beckoning for her to follow.