Hump stared at Gorvol’s body. Blood pooled around the fallen beast, its rotten stench filling the air. The demon’s massive axe lay beside it, though its black steel was far less terrifying now that it lay still. It had been far too close.

The sound of shouts and cries came from above and Hump readied his staff on instinct. He looked up to see the demonic swarm backing away, hovering high overhead. It seemed the lesser demons had been warded off by the fall of their leader.

Bud approached and extended a hand, helping Hump to his feet before standing protectively beside him, Heart of Frostfire radiating an aura of ice around them. “You alright?”

“Just about,” Hump said, retrieving his spellbook and attaching it to his belt. “I’m glad I learned Return though.”

“The spell you used to call your staff?” Bud asked.

Hump nodded. “It’s a cantrip I picked up on Wizard Aldric’s advice. There’s been a few times recently where my staff fell just out of reach. Didn’t expect it to come in handy so soon.”

“You’re injured, sir,” Dylan said. Hump turned to see the druid approaching Drexel, who now leant up against the battlements, catching his breath. “I’m a druid. Can I be of help?”

A long cut ran from his chin up to his ear and was bleeding profusely. His black armour and robes made it difficult to see, but there were more wounds across his body.

“Conserve your strength,” Drexel said. “These injuries will heal up quick enough, and there is still more to do. Remain here and keep the gatehouse secure.”

“Understood,” Bud said. “What will you do?”

“There are still demons in the keep that must be slain.” The rogue groaned as he pushed himself back to his feet. His shadow grew darker, until Hump couldn’t see the floor beneath him at all.

“Then you will likely encounter Anara’s party inside,” Bud said. “They were ordered to root out any lingering foes.”

Drexel nodded. “That will make things simpler.”

“Thank you for your help, sir,” Hump said, nodding at the dead Gatekeeper. “Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

“Hah!” Drexel snorted. “It was your party member that made the opening, and you that held his attention. Good work, all of you.”

With that, he sunk into the shadows at his feet, disappearing into gods knew where. So long as Hump could stay still and not move for a bit, he wouldn’t complain. Guarding the gatehouse suited him perfectly. He turned his gaze over to Celaine and Nishari—the little dragon had brought back Isabella just as he’d asked, and the Chosen of Emirai now tended to Anara. The flower druid lay against the wall of the keep, bloodied, battered, but alive. Celaine caught his eye and smiled.

“Good shot,” Hump mouthed to her.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smirk.

Above her, on the keep towers, Owen’s party stood triumphant, the towers now under their control, though their expressions were sombre. After a moment, Hump realised the absence of Soren and his heart sank—it was one more loss amongst many, but the hours together made it hit harder.

Hump took up his position at the centre of the gatehouse, Bud, Dylan, and Emilia at his sides. Victory appeared within grasp, but the gatehouse had to stay under their control. Hump stood ready with his staff upright, refusing to let his tiredness show. A spell was ready on his lips for any foe brave enough to approach, but the enemy strength was waning, and few dared to come close.

A great roar erupted from the orcs and Hump turned to the left wall where their numbers were still greatest. The orcs were facing the gatehouse now, their cries filled with fanatic rage as they realised that the Gatekeeper was dead. They hurled themselves at the army of Alveron with reckless abandon. The death of their god seemed to have driven them to madness. Conversely, the demons now seemed weakened and cowed. Greater demons soared into the sky, trying to escape the fight and observe from above. Arrows found them, and for those that survived, their retreat turned into a rout.

The lesser demons were not so fortunate. The giant mindeaters tried to rise into the air, floating like oversized balloons, but they were too large and slow. Chosen grappled their chain tendrils, holding them to the ground as they were destroyed by weapons and magic. The flying, humanoid demons fought like cornered animals, searching for any escape. A few managed to take to the sky, but most were swiftly cut down, dying in their hundreds.

“Their strength is all but exhausted,” Hump said, voice tinged with relief.

“Demons are vicious beasts, but they are cowards at heart,” Bud said. His blade rested on his pauldron, gently flickering with Frostfire.

“It looks like it’s almost over, doesn’t it?” Emilia said. “We survived.”

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“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dylan said. “We’re tired—this is exactly the moment where a mistake could happen. And in this foul place, there’s no telling what more could come. Don’t let your guard down.”

“As if I would do that,” Emilia snapped.

“I’m not suggesting you would, just… be careful.”

Emilia smiled slightly in apology, bumping slightly against Dylan’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Below, in the killing grounds, the battle raged on with brutal intensity. It was a one-sided massacre. General Korteg and Count Daston fought like paladins of legend. Veiled in powerful auras that made the air shimmer, they seemed somehow greater than mere humans, towering over the rest of the army and delivering devastating strikes. Wherever the general and count went, the defenders fell. The orcs, though formidable warriors, were ultimately mere flesh and blood. Without the aid of the demons, they were unable to withstand the disciplined might of Alveron and died in droves against the attacker’s shield wall.

The army advanced behind their leaders, a tide of silver cloaked in the divine aura released by the shrines in their ranks. They moved as one, carving through the enemy ranks without pause. The drums continued to boom a marching beat. Shouts went up amongst the men, calling for them to advance or to stand. Many had fallen to the demonic bombardment, but the soldiers’ morale remained unbroken. With each passing minute, they came closer to the gatehouse and the fort’s heart.

“Look!” Emilia said, pointing to the right side.

Hump followed their eyes, finding the familiar visage of Henrietta, who fought valiantly amidst the demonic horde, leading the Blackthorne company in Bud’s absence.

“The company!” Bud said cheerfully.

Nearby, to the right, Marshall Merrick had secured the walls, and now stood steadfast, preventing reinforcements from reaching the front line. As Hump surveyed the battlefield, he allowed himself to smile. The end was nearing. Marcela stood below, the orcs in the courtyard slain. Tamsin stood with a pile of bodies behind her, while Len sat against the walls, dripping with sweat and exhausted from his barrier blessings. Now they awaited the marching army.

Victory was theirs, though it had come at a steep price. The fallen lay strewn upon the blood-soaked grounds, the path into the Infernal Halls paved by their sacrifice. And this was only the beginning. The demon lord’s citadel loomed ahead and would no doubt be an even greater challenge.

The clash of battle gradually subsided, and soon the jubilant cries of victory resounded in the fort. Soldiers marched into the courtyard, their eyes flicking up to Hump and the others as they passed through the gate. They raised their arms in celebrations, their cheers echoing in the walls.

Hump let out a long breath. “Shall we go rejoin Celaine?”

Just as they were preparing to descend from the gatehouse, a chill ran down Hump’s spine. He felt a malevolent gaze upon him and turned, searching the skies until his eyes fixed upon a distant figure. It was no more than a black speck against the crimson horizon, but even without being able to make out its features, Hump knew it to be the demon, Karlac. The intensity of its focus pierced the distance and Hump met it unflinching. This creature sought the Book of Infinite Pages, but Hump stood resolute. Let the fiend come.

The speck vanished, and Hump felt the pressure fade. He placed a hand against his spellbook, reassured by its touch.

“What is it?” Bud asked.

“Karlac.”

Bud’s hand went to his sword and he whirled around, following Hump’s gaze. “Where?”

“Gone now,” Hump said. “But he was watching. We will likely have to face him before we leave this world.”

Karlac had said that he was not a demon of the Infernal Halls, but his presence made Hump question why there weren’t more greater demons defending the keep. Why leave it only to Gorvol? Were they saving their strength for the citadel?

Whatever the case, Hump would need to think about a countermeasure to Karlac’s Hellfire. His mind went to his spellbook’s new Spell Sculpting ability and he wondered if it might offer some solution. For now, it would have to wait. He was too tired to be productive, and there would be little time to rest later. He needed to take advantage of the time he had now to recover.

It was not long before the fort was fully under the army’s control and General Korteg declared that the day was won. The keep was captured, its walls conquered, and the first step to destroying the Infernal Halls was complete. For now, the army reserves were to take the walls and guard against a retaliatory attack. Others worked to clear the fort of the dead. A mass grave was erected beyond the walls where the orcs and demons were dumped, while bodies of Alveronians were sent back upon supply wagons where they would receive the proper burial rites and honours in their own country.

The hours that followed were quiet for Hump. His party found a quiet spot upon the walls where they watched as camp followers and supply wagons came through the Infernal Gates in their hundreds, pulled along by nervous horses. Bud, Dylan, and Emilia split off at some point, checking in on the Blackthorne company and Henrietta, leaving Hump and Celaine on the walls alone. Nishari came and draped herself over Hump’s lap, falling asleep in moments despite the excitement. She was exhausted—more exhausted than Hump had ever seen her, to the point that even their bond felt weakened.

Celaine sat beside him, leaning her shoulder gently against his as she idly traced the scales on Nisha’s head with her fingers.

“Have you noticed anything off about her since she changed?” Celaine asked quietly.

Hump shook his head. “Other than being tired, she seems the same as normal now. Still, I think it’s safe to say that the essence of the phoenix she was exposed to in Sheercliff has changed her.”

“I agree. It’s hard not to after seeing her scales turn to gold. What exactly that means though, I have no idea.”

“You’ve never heard of anything like it?” Hump asked.

Celaine shook her head. “Minor colour changes aren’t unheard of for wolf dragons as we’ve talked about before. The golden flakes Nisha has were already a little unusual, but nothing particularly strange. For them to turn entirely gold like that is unheard of, along with the powerful aura that she manifested at her age.”

“Then what do we do?” Hump asked. He hesitated, his mind going to a suggestion he really didn’t want to make, but Nisha’s safety was more important than his own comfort. “Is it safe for her to remain away from Drakalyn? We could return.”

Celaine smiled. “As fun as it is to see you worried, I don’t think you need to be. Wolf dragons are magical creatures, and while they are lesser dragons, they descend from true dragons. There is power in their blood beyond our understanding. I think that Nishari may turn out to be a very special girl.”

“What does that mean?” Hump asked.

“It means that we protect her as she grows,” Celaine said. “And help her to learn to control whatever abilities she might have. When she snapped, there was no controlling her for any of us. She looked at me but did not see my face. She only saw one more threat to you.”