Some would have gloated. Some might have paused for effect. Alex, however, wasted no time.

‘Stab her!’ he thought.

Before the demon could reclaim her spear—Claygon thrust its tip into Zonon-In’s side. Something tore, the demon’s scream could have shattered glass as his powered arms drove the barbed blade home, then twisted the haft. Her shriek soared through the swamp as he ground the weapon deeper. For a brief moment, she wavered, but she didn’t fall.

Black blood gushed, Zonon-In’s flesh shrivelled: her own spear withered her lifeforce, slowing her movements.

Cedric and Theresa were quick to take advantage.

The two warriors slashed at her trunk, their weapons sinking deep into her weakened hide. Theresa snarled in triumph, opening a dozen cuts across her gut before shifting to her legs and slashing at withering joints.

A tremendous boom resonated through the swamp, the demon fell to one knee.

“Give me back my spear, you—Argh!” She grabbed the haft, trying to pull the blade free, but Claygon sailed above her, lifting the handle like a lever and throwing her off balance.

Her hand and pincer plunged into the muck struggling to keep her upright, and the other hand grabbed at her war-spear. It was taking its toll.

Claygon hovered, built momentum, then dove. Her yellow eyes grew frantic, she knew she was trapped, and what was coming. The golem came in at speed, putting his full weight behind the war-spear’s haft, driving her down. Her withering hand and pincer collapsed, and with a shout, she hit the bog. An explosion of muddy water heaved into the air, but Claygon kept pressure on the spear, shoving their enemy down into the marsh; her body withered with every beat of her many hearts, and the Chosen and huntress joined the golem with a punishing attack of their own.

They slashed, pierced and dealt her an array of blows she couldn’t answer. Her wounds mounted, she clutched at the haft with two hands and both pincers, but it wouldn’t budge, she was weaker, the golem wasn’t. The war-spear did not move.

Panic haunted her face.

‘Now’s when she’ll be most dangerous.’ Alex thought.

“Cedric! Theresa!” he shouted, diving toward the fight. “Go for her eyes, but don’t meet her gaze. Keep her busy! We can’t let her concentrate or she'll use her magic!”

He willed Wizard’s Hands to cover her eyes again, making both spells flare like flames.

Zonon-In clenched her teeth, but said nothing: she was beyond taunting anyone now.

“Aye, none o’ that magic business beastie!” the Chosen surged at her face, stabbing her cheek with his morphic weapon. Theresa followed—dragging her swords up the creature’s torso—carving deep wounds into her flesh.

“That’s for Claygon…and everyone else!” Her voice held no pity.

‘Die!’ Alex thought. ‘Why won’t you just die!’

But Zonon-In fought on; her physical form was wavering like a failing illusion, but she swung her fists at Cedric and the huntress like the cornered beast she was.

With a jerk of her neck, she twisted the Chosen’s weapon from her face, bellowing in a demonic tongue. “Help!” Her call swept out to her army. “These mortals are mauling me, stop them!”

“Watch out, she’s calling for reinforcements! We have to finish her!” Alex translated.

Zonon-In’s mouth opened, tentacles writhed from it, reaching for Alex’s spells covering her eyes.

“Oh no y’ don’t!” Cedric chopped through her guard with a shining halberd.

Tentacles split in half, snaking into the water. Zonon-In screamed.

“We’re not so adorable now, are we?” Theresa snapped, chopping off two of the demon’s fingers.

Alex took his cloak off.

If he wrapped it around her face he—

A burst of light flashed at the corner of his eye.

“Watch it!” he cried.

Beams of power blasted all around him, one clipped his force armour, knocking the breath from him. He spun out, landing in the water.

Beam-demons were coming in fast, shooting deadly rays from their vessels, answering Zonon-In’s call. They were closing the distance, but also taking heavy losses; dozens of boats ripped apart on ancient roots lying just below the water’s surface, or plowed into quicksand, their crew were cut down by arrows and spells. But not all met that fate. Enough beams launched through the sky to drive Theresa and Cedric from the demon-leader’s face.

That gave her time to act.

Her lips twisted, and with one word, something shifted in the air.

A roiling wave of chaos slammed into her foes.

The word scraped Alex’s eardrums like pitchfork tines, stole his hearing, and hammered his mind with a force that made his body wilt. He felt like a snake shedding its skin, feeling it throb and pulse and work to pull itself free of his body, while a bolt of pure chaos clawed at his brain, fighting to burrow inside.

Alex used every technique he knew to keep his mind clear, but the rest of his body still twitched uncontrollably, pure chaos wanting to tear it apart. Above, Cedric fought invisible phantoms around him, he was shouting, but no sound came. Theresa lay helpless in the water, writhing from the demon’s onslaught, every inch of visible skin pulsated.

Even the armour covering Claygon thrashed; clay bulged unnaturally, and cracks on his body spread. Yet, he never stopped grinding the war-spear into the demon. He was relentless.

He would never stop.

“Perhaps I owed you all more respect,” Zonon-In’s voice echoed through Alex’s mind, the only ‘sound’ she allowed in the silence. “I see now you were not cats to toy with. I shall honour that. You deserve better from me.”

With no one to stop her, she raised a hand toward Alex’s golem.

He felt a terrible mana rising.

‘Claygon!’ Alex reached out. ‘Move!’

The golem pulled away, dragging the spear from her body as he went.

But her mana was reaching a new height of power.

It would—

An outline rocketed from the sky.

Alex caught sight of a very welcome face.

Hart Redfletcher, Champion of Uldar, dove straight for the demon.

In a blur, he swung an enormous bone axe at Zonon-In’s pointing hand, severing it clean from her wrist. Her spellcasting ended, she screamed silently, the offending hand sailed end over end into the swamp.

‘Now!’ Came Alex’s thought. ‘Go for the face, Claygon! Don’t let her recover!’

His golem lifted the war-spear and drove the immense, barbed blade into the demon-leader’s screaming mouth. She stiffened like she’d been turned to stone…

…and then her body began to shatter.

Alex’s hearing returned to a sound like crumbling glass; the greater demon’s form was shuddering apart, becoming particles like sand that vanished in puffs of brimstone.

“I shall remember this, mortals,” Zonon-In’s voice echoed through their minds. “You won my respect. Now you have my wrath. I will recover my strength. I shall learn your names. Then, whether it be in one mortal year, one decade, or a score of winters…I will return for you.”

Her form was now as clear as glass.

“In my defeat, you have won my war-spear,” her telepathic voice was fading. “Treasure it while you can, for I will reclaim it from the ruins of both clay and flesh. Until then, know that you have made an eternal enemy of Zonon-In, commander of the Abyssal Knight Ezaliel.”

And then, she was gone as though she was never there.

That left a surprised Hart Redfletcher pulling Cedric and Theresa from the water, while Claygon hovered in the air with Zonon-In’s…no, his war-spear gripped firmly in hand.

Alex dragged himself from the muck, his body still trying to shake away after-effects of the demon’s power. He stood there trembling, taking in the battlefield.

Drestra was with the witches of Crymlyn Village, hurling spell after spell into the enemy’s ranks, driving them further into the Skull Pits and waiting patches of quicksand.

Their leader was gone as was their nerve, and they began fleeing, often into deep pools of quicksand.

“We’re winning,” Alex murmured, scarcely believing it. At times, he’d thought she was going to kill them and crush Claygon. “We’re actually winning.”

“Yeeeup,” Hart said. “They’re done. Just a matter of cleaning up the rest now.”

He looked critically at Cedric, and then everyone near.

“But you all look like you’ve been ripped in half then sewn back together, then ripped in half again. Badly. By a drunken blood mage. Maybe you should go back to the boat and catch your breath.” the Champion said. “We’ve got this.”

“No, I can heal us…then fight,” Cedric wheezed, shaking his head like a wet hound. His long hair dripped swamp water.

“The heal part sounds good, the fight part, not so much. Go on, rest: you all already fought the good fight. I’m just mad I missed it. Now get back on that boat before I drown you myself,” Hart said.

“Yeah,” Theresa took a slow deep breath, floating up to Alex. They leaned on each other. “You’re right. It's better if we recover. I can barely lift my swords.”

“Fine,” Cedric grunted.

“Atta boy,” Hart said, flying off to the battlefield. “I’ll kill a few dozen in your names!”

Alex watched him leave, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe my life’s gone so sideways that that sounds like a good offer,” he muttered as he and Theresa half-flew, half-carried each other to Baelin’s boat. Cedric and Claygon came right after them, with the Chosen calling on Uldar’s power to heal him, and the golem holding the hard won war-spear over his shoulder.

Brutus barked the instant he saw his master and Alex, and almost drowned them in cerberus drool when they finally collapsed in the boat with Claygon between them.

Cedric flopped down on the canvas even though it wasn’t the least bit comfortable, but at this point, lying on rocks would have felt good.

“That…” the Chosen murmured. “Was the worst bloody fight of me entire life.”

His head lolled back and he stared at the sky.

“Told you,” Alex said slowly. “Greater demons are no joke.”

“Yeah, well, she seemed t’find things pretty funny for a bit,” the Chosen chuckled bitterly.

“The hell with her and her sense of humour, then,” Theresa groaned. “I wasn’t laughing.”

“Doubt any of us were,” Alex looked up at Claygon. “Oh no, look what she did to you, buddy.”

Cracks snaked through most of his torso. A chunk of his shoulder was missing, and deep gashes ran through his chest and belly.

“Can ‘e be fixed?” Cedric asked.

“As long as his core’s fine, which it is, otherwise he would’ve stopped moving,” the young Thameish wizard said. “I just need to get back to Generasi, get him into a workshop and get some clay. His golem core’ll help it harden into the same shape as before, but it’s going to take a fair amount of work, but he’s worth it.” Alex patted his damaged arm.

“Well,” Cedric looked at the spear clutched in Claygon’s hand. It was longer than he was tall. “At least yougot somethin’ outta all o’this, big guy.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, admiring how well the horrifying spear fit the terrifying golem. “I think we’re going to put that to good use.”

“As you should…” Theresa groaned. “But, I know what I’m going to do after this. I’m going back to training. When that demon comes back, I want to be strong enough to cut her clean in half.”

“Life goals, I guess,” Alex said. “For now, though…I don’t think I wanna move for a while. Maybe try not breathing too.”

“You’ll die if you stop breathing, idiot,” the huntress said.

“Enh, it works for Claygon,” he groaned.

“That it does, and not gonna lie, I’m a bit jealous o’ him. Breathin’ hurts, right now,” Cedric grunted. “But…at least it tells us we’re still alive.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “Damn right we’re still alive.”

“We’re still alive,” Theresa echoed.

In that moment—surrounded by the sounds of dying demons and cultists being finished off—being alive seemed like a very precious thing, indeed.

###

Cornered in the Skull Pits, the enemy was desperate to escape, but there wasn’t much they could do to make that happen.

It took less than an hour to finish off the followers of Ezaliel, and soon, the noise of battle was replaced by victorious cheers from the witches of Crymlyn Swamp. But things grew sombre when the dead and dying were accounted for, and the witches’ began mourning their fallen, loading their bodies into boats to ferry them home one final time.

Healers—well-practised in blood magic—worked on the injured, tending their wounds and bringing them comfort with herbs, potions and spells.

At the end of it all, they’d suffered less losses than they’d expected, but more than they could stand. Even one loss was one too many for the loved ones of the dead.

Once the witches said prayers over their kin, asking the spirits to cleanse and heal the swamp of the taint of cultists and demons, they began the journey back to Crymlyn Village.

Theresa and Cedric said very little on the way back—drifting in and out of sleep—while Alex piloted Baelin’s boat through the swamp. The journey was grim, most thoughts were on those who’d met their end, and kindred who’d turned to treachery. But, at least there was a lot waiting at home to celebrate: freed hostages, their rescuers, and a reunion. At the dock in Crymlyn Village, cheers, tears of joy and relief met the witches, Heroes, and Generasians. Everyone thanked the returning rescuers and fighters, a reminder of all they’d been through and what they’d won. Those who’d remained behind to defend the village, came out to welcome the exhausted fighters and see to their care.

Elder Blodeuwedd was in the healing compound—along with several other healers—tending to hostages, witches and anyone else in need of care, which included Alex, Theresa and Cedric. Their physical wounds were minor, but Zonon-In’s assault on their thoughts weren’t. Those called for soothing potions, drawing salves, and pressure techniques to calm their minds and bring them back into balance. The witches' treatments worked, finally cleansing the trio of residual effects of chaos, draining it from every fibre of their being. Most of their energy returned.

And, they slept deeply that night.

The next day would ask much of them again…

…but hopefully, a bit less.