The four of them moved carefully through the roads of the Vault, making sure not to get too close to any guard. They made it without being noticed by any guards and where standing in front of the gate. The gate was locked and barred properly, there was no getting inside through this entrance as long as it was closed from the inside. Benedict led them around to the back of the building. Mel looked up. The stone wall went up straight without any features. Roughly twenty feet or more up was the first setback, giving space to battlements going around the building, like a fortress within a fortress. They could see no guards patrolling right now.

“How will we get up there?” Mel asked the other three.

Reginault merely rolled his eyes and waved his hand with a pinch of flux powder. Like coalescing from the air itself, a stone step materialized in front of them, hovering in the air. He repeated his wave several times until the floating steps formed a staircase all the way to the top of the battlements. “It is a standard spell I use at almost every construction site.”

Tamaris didn’t wait any time and just hopped on before anyone could stop her.

Mel tried to warn her nonetheless. “WAIT, Are you crazy?” She turned to Reginault. “Are you sure they’ll hold us?”

Reginault’s face told her he was almost insulted by that lack of trust. “This spell is standardized to carry up to a hundred stone! You couldn’t find a person too heavy for this in all of the world; I dare say.”

“Fine, I’m sorry, I’m just not sure about this entire endeavour!”

“Just go already! It won’t last forever.” Reginault beckoned Mel to go ahead, after which he was the last to climb the stairs.

The four of them hurried inside through a door behind the battlements, just as Tamaris’ invisibility spell wore off, and found themselves on a gallery above a vast room, roughly a two hundred feet on each side. There on the ground hundreds of metal cabinets with glyphs and runes inscribed. “These must be the holding safes.” Tamaris whispered.

Benedict nodded and hummed. “Yes, they are. Many layers of defences are wrapped around them. But normally we should have met some guards by now, at least inside!” He was about to explain some other curiosity about them when he suddenly ducked back from the gallery’s balustrade and into hiding. He beckoned the other three to do the same.

“What is it?” Mel asked him, crouched on all four and with a whispering tone. “Did you see something?”

Benedict nodded. “The marble tiles on the floor light up when someone stands on them. That way, nobody can sneak around down there without someone seeing, even if they hide out of sight.” Carefully, he crawled to the balustrade and pointed down. Mel could actually see what he was talking about; the floor tiles around a position behind one of the cabinets emitted a slight blue glow. Whoever was down there was hidden from them for now, but the four of them carefully crawled along the balustrade until the person came into sight. It was a lean woman with bright blonde hair tied into a long ponytail, wearing a guard’s uniform, her epaulets identified her as a captain at least.

“I know her.” Benedict said. “She’s the second captain Cateline-Fatira! I wonder what she’s doing here.” He went ahead to head down a spiral staircase leading to ground level. “Let us speak to her!”

Mel held him by his arm. “Wait just a second! Why is everyone so eager to get into trouble? We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

“But we need to tell her this building needs to be guarded better!”

Reginault spoke up as well. “I agree with Benedict. We need to tell someone; she seems to be a good candidate. I think we can trust her, especially if she knows Benedict.”

Mel let go of Benedict’s arm and they went down ahead to meet the captain. As they got closer, Mel could see that the captain was inspecting one of the cabinets very carefully from all sides. They came close enough to talk without the captain noticing them and so Benedict carefully raised his voice, only to be cut off by the captain.

“WHO ARE YOU?”

The shiny point of a short sword stood still in the air, just a hand's width away from Benedict’s throat.

“Easy, Cateline, it’s me, Benedict!”

The captain lowered her sword but raised her eyebrow. “Who? What are you doing here, I ordered all forces of this building be invested to sweeping the area around it!”

“Nono, we’re not members of the guard, don’t you remember me? Benedict-Effassee, junior central registrar?” He pointed to his amulet identifying him as staff of the Vault.

“Central registrar? Can you open these cabinets?”

Benedict seemed confused by the question. “Wha...? No, Cateline, you know me. I cannot grant admission to the restricted artefact repository! We came here to tell you that the intruder's interest most likely lies in these halls!”

The captain’s face turned angered. “You cannot grant me access? You’re useless to me then.”

Something in Mel’s head just clicked. A sort of awareness of everything came over her. She stood next to and somewhat behind Benedict, closer to the captain than the other two. Benedict seemed not realize the captain was raising her sword again, not to threaten, but to strike. Melraka’s body sprang into action before she even realized why. She grabbed the collar of Benedict’s robe, pulling him to the ground with her. The captain’s blade shot through the air just an inch above them.

Mel kicked the captain’s leg away to make her fall, then got back up, grabbed Benedict's arm and pulled him down the corridor between the cabinets. “THE CAPTAIN IS POSSESSED, RUN!”

She dared to look back and saw the captain, back on her feet and unnatural spite in her eyes. Malevolence and anger swirled around her head and black searing smoke of hate was her breath as the daemon dropped the disguise and let the power of a world beyond reality course through its host’s body. Then the captain extended a finger towards the four of them.

A lance of burning anger shot down the corridor between the cabinets. Mel couldn’t think of anything to protect them. She merely tore both of them to the ground again.

A cloud of splinters, dust and debris blew over Mel’s head, chunks of marble rained down on her coat and hat. One of the cabinets was knocked over and a loud blaring filled the entire hall. She looked back and saw Reginault holding out his hand, a block of marble suspended before him in the air and obviously torn apart right through the centre. With a forward gesture, he commanded block and it barrelled down the corridor towards the captain.

Mel managed to roll to the side behind another cabinet, safe from splinters and rubble. Cracking and rumbling echoed through the vast hall and she dared to peek back out. Reginault had fled the corridor and sought safety somewhere else, Tamaris was nowhere to be seen either. The captain still stood where she had before, her uniform torn in places, one epaulet missing, bruises and scratches all over her body, her long blonde hair flowing freely in a wind that wrenched the layers of reality itself. Mel did not know much about daemons, but she knew if the daemonic presence finished unravelling reality completely, there would be no stopping it with mere magic and the captain herself would be beyond salvation.

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Benedict seemed to finally come to grips, his shaking stopped and he stood up, but remained in the safety of cover. He readied his staff and looked for something in his bag, then threw his index to Mel. It was a huge tome and Mel had brace herself with both arms against the heft of it.

“Take it. I know enough spells by heart. You should find a few familiar ones there.”

They had studied and graduated alongside each other, so many spells would be indeed similar or identical. She opened the book and went through the geometries and formula that governed and commanded the arcane energies in such precise and useful effects. There! There was one she knew; a basic one and a staple in almost all magical self-defence.

Across the corridor, Benedict gestured and mouthed words to Mel as the alarms continued to blare. “Go around behind her!” Then he stepped out into the corridor, staff in hand and yelled at the captain. “Come here, captain. Show me what you got!” The possessed captain started charging Benedict with hate in blazing eyes.

Mel moved out to dash down a parallel corridor to get behind the captain. As Mel passed the daemon, she could see that the captain’s short arming sword had turned from corporeal steel to elusive edge forged from raw emotions.

Mel emerged into the corridor behind the captain. With a ringing sound like two bells duelling, the Captain and Benedict had crossed their weapons. Any mundane object would have been sliced in two, but Benedict’s staff held as the captain pressed her daemonic edge, lacing the air itself with a sizzle. Mel opened the spell index and looked at the spell one last time. She had to completely understand what forces and laws of nature she was calling upon in order for this to work. She reached into her pocket for a big pinch of flux.

The spell took shape in her mind and she pressed her thoughts into the weave of existence itself, cold current coalesced at her fingertips into a sphere of ice. She broadened her stance, stretched out her right hand and with the invocation, gave the spell the finishing touch.

“FRIGORSPHAERO!”

With a jolt, the sphere of ice accelerated in an instant down the corridor, freezing the air to clouds as it travelled along the corridor, and impacted on the captain’s back with a sound like a giant stepping into a hundred feet of freshly fallen snow.

Mel could see Benedict dash away into another corridor, then the captain turned around. The black stars of spite in her eyes had taken on a frightening glint. Effortlessly, the captain pulled her feet from icy bonds and walked across the frozen floor. Only a few steps before she broke into a full charge. Mel did not know what to do. She was not prepared for this. She ran, further down the corridor. Maybe the columns holding up the gallery around the room’s perimeter would grant her safety and shelter.

Before Mel could reach them however, she threw a glance back and saw a marble block rushing out of another corridor, taking the captain down another journey towards hurt. Mel stopped. She knew it had been Reginault who had saved her.

“I WILL FLAY YOU ALIVE FOR THAT!” The daemon’s voice tore through the air like a serrated blade through flesh. Mel expected the captain to come charging back her way another time and soon she did, down towards Reginault.

It was then that something dawned on Melraka: the daemon had switched target every time they had launched an attack. Daemons were beings of pure emotion, this one was obviously one of anger and rage, unfocussed emotions that could easily be distracted. If the four of them managed to keep the daemon distracted for long enough for the guard to arrive, they might actually get out of this alive.

She went after the daemon and saw it engaged with Reginault. His right arm was raised, blocking a downward blow by the captain. First Mel thought the small, aging, balding man was holding off a daemonic edge with mere force of will, but when she looked closer, she could see a flicker of energy enveloping his body.

The captain struck out for another slash and when she let her blade's scream loose, Mel could hear a sound like breaking of glass and tearing of paper. With each strike, the captain’s sword sundered Reginault’s shielding spell’s layers and sent ephemeral shards flying off like bark off a tree.

Mel decided to drop the spell index, she focussed on the spell one more time and ran down the corridor, hoping to arrive before Reginault’s shielding was completely stripped away.

Reginault was not hurt, but the blow had brought him out of balance. He fell against another cabinet and fumbled trying to get back up. Mel finally hastened her step towards them, fixating her every thought on the spell yet again. From her running stance, she raised her hand, ready to smash the sphere of ice right into the daemon’s face. Before she was even in range, the captain overpowered Reginault, shattering a last layer of shielding off. He took a dive aside, but she still cut his side deep, blood gushed forth and a black torrent flowed into the wound.

Only a few more steps! Mel clenched her teeth, propelled herself forward as hard as her legs could and raised her hand, the sphere of frost hovering before her palm, ready to be slammed into the back of the captain’s neck.

Mel felt the impact send a shock through her arm, tiny crystals of ice wanted to burrow into her skin and freeze her blood. A cloud of fog and icy dust envelloped the two of them. When it settled, Mel saw the scene before her. Reginault lay on the ground, holding his wounded side, the captain had turned around to Mel. Her skin seemed drained of all colour, her previously blond hair was like caustic acid upon reality itself, her mouth opened to an abyss of smoke.

Mel only noticed a glint from below and sprung backwards, evading the edge of malice by a narrow margin. She rolled over the floor and expected another strike. She had no weapon or shielding spell prepared, she had to defend herself somehow. As if in trance, she reached for the heaviest object she had at the ready: Advanced mechanics of interior transmutation by Carolus-Turrain of Calestre, a massive book with a cover made from wood wrapped tightly in leather.

Mel lifted the book out of the bag and swung it into the sword’s path just in time for the blade to sink all the way through the hundreds of pages and get stuck at the guard. With the weight of an entire tome added on the blade, the captain tried but failed to strike out for another swing, ultimately dropping the weapon. Mel tried to put the spell together in her head a third time, but before she could, the captain swept her feet and Mel dropped to the ground.

The possessed captain stood above her, reaching for the blade, when just in this moment, voices and yelling filled the room. Guards were shouting orders, weapons were being pointed at the captain, priests sang litanies of binding, mages readied spells of destruction. The guard had arrived, but the daemon seemed not impressed. With a wide grind, she reached down, grabbed Mel’s throat and pulled her up with just one hand.

“Just enough time to dash.” Her touch was an icy grudge, as if trying to pay back what Mel had flung at the daemon. “Count yourself lucky, you’ll go on the journey of a lifetime!” The daemon cackled, about to leave this reality, get away scot-free, and take Mel's soul with her! No! This could not be, she would not be torn to the far side of existence by a daemon! She tried to struggle, but her body refused to work, her mind was already being drawn to the place beyond reality, unthinkable thoughts burrowing towards her sanity, riddles bubbling up from deep within, incomprehensiveness swelling to encompass all of her consciousness.

Then Mel saw, like from the corner of her mind’s eye, through a window in the fog, a small figure emerge from the veil of a waning invisibility spell. With a big piece of marble rubble, Tamaris struck the captain’s back from behind, then kicked her in the back of the knee, forcing her to cave in.

Mel tore herself free, impacting on reality harder than on the cold rock floor, then saw how Tamaris smashed the rubble down on the captain’s head.

The possessed body went limp, but immediately picked itself back up again, not by any muscle’s tension, but by hatred and wrath in purest form. The body was disabled, but the one who pulled the strings did not give up yet.

Around the corners of each cabinet, points of halberds, spears and swords arrived. Voices rose to sacred songs above even the blaring alarm and ethereal chains wrapped around their bodies. The daemon spewed hatred and curses at the priests. The full contingent of the guard had arrived, the fight was over, for all of them.