When the carriage approached the bridge, the winged creatures scattered and disappeared into the forest.
"They fear the defensive weapons of the Bastion of Dusk, which destroy anyone who comes within their dangerous range," the White-Haired commented on the monsters' retreat. "Not only have the winged creatures been destroyed by them, but also the Dark Lords who intended to enter."
"What will happen to us if we approach?" the Cursed asked.
"As I told you, your brain emissions are different. Similar to those that live within the fortress of the Ancients." She took his hand in hers. He felt the terrible power hidden beneath her fingers and the muscles of her hand. The White-Haired looked at him and bared her sharp teeth, which might have been a smile. "Take my hand and lead me into the fortress. For a time, we will become one. They will see you and allow us to pass."
The black carriage, pulled by a team of four black horses, was approaching the white bridge.
The Cursed stared intently at the windows and walls of the fortress. The windows were closed, or perhaps even invisible. The building appeared lifeless.
The black carriage was already racing across the bridge. Dark waters churned on both sides. Long high railings stretched along the edges of the bridge.
"Ancient legends say that the white-stone palace in the middle of the island is only the upper part of a vast sunken fortress of the Ancients," the Dark Lady said.
A predatory baring of sharp teeth remained fixed on her gray face.
"The Dark Lords have never come this far before," she said.
The Cursed could not say for certain what he had heard in her voice. Perhaps it was dark triumph, or perhaps a premonition of the approaching conclusion of an ancient story.
The black carriage passed through the gates into the courtyard surrounding the palace. Above, hatches opened in the walls, and white towers with gun barrels emerged from them. They were turning to follow the black carriage. However, nothing else happened.
Ahead, the tall leaves of the palace's main doors opened, and the black carriage entered a long dim corridor. Along its walls, to the left and right, were many long tubes. Their openings were aimed at those passing through. Whether they were gun barrels or some other devices, it was impossible to say.
The Dark Lady stared ahead.
"It's a trap!" she said, pointing forward. "The corridor ends abruptly ahead. We will all fall if we continue. Jump off the carriage."
The four black horses turned into black smoke and vanished. But the carriage continued moving forward, though at a slower speed. The Dark Lady and the Cursed jumped from it and landed on the floor of the corridor.
The carriage continued racing down the corridor until it plunged into the darkness below, where there was no floor.
The Dark Lady and the Cursed approached the edge and looked down. They saw a shaft extending far into the depths, down which the black carriage was falling at great speed. After a time, it disappeared from sight without a trace, as though it had never existed.
The Dark Lady headed into the darkness between the tubes protruding from the wall.
"Look, Cursed! There is a door here."
She opened the iron door and went farther inside. They climbed a dark staircase into rooms where various kinds of weapons lay in long rows upon shelves. From melee weapons to firearms and even arcane weapons. The Cursed had never known or heard of many of them. Some of them surfaced in his memory from books he had read in ancient libraries. Incredible, deadly weapons capable of destroying enemy detachments and even entire armies.
At that moment, the Cursed stopped. He felt that midnight had arrived.
A row of windows ran along the sloping ceiling, through which moonlight fell. In one of the windows stood a figure in a white combat suit with short white hair hanging in disarray. His cold inhuman eyes on his pale face were fixed intently on the Cursed. Another Curse of the Sleeping Demons had come for him.
"Do not worry," the Dark Lady said. "It will not be able to enter the fortress of the Ancients. Their magic and technology are based on such powerful elements that the local demons are not merely unable to overcome them, they are not even capable of understanding them. You will spend this night under the protection of the fortress of the Ancients and remain free from the enemies that have pursued you from the Curse."
The Dark Lady was walking between the rows of weapons and examining them carefully.
"Take this one and this one," she said, pointing with a long finger with a long purple nail. "And take this one as well."
The Cursed took the weapons and placed them on his armor. He hung the large ray gun over his shoulder by its strap.
"And I think I will take this one."
The Dark Lady reached out her hands toward another model of the ray gun. But she became too absorbed and lost herself in the moment. Or perhaps she simply did not know for certain.
When her fingers closed around the cold metal of the weapon and lifted it, a flashing red light came on in the hall, and an alarm sounded. A tall dark silhouette stirred at the far end of the room.
"Run!" the White-Haired shouted, and they fled.
The dark figure pursued them.
The corridor, the open double doors, the courtyard.