"Argh!" Pell shouted. His body groaned and ached as he tried to muster the rest of his strength to keep steady. The storm surrounding him was immense; any second now, it could send him flying away. But he had to hold on. One minute. Yet in this situation, it felt like an eternity.

Elria couldn't answer him. She continued to murmur her odd words. An incantation. Whispers of nonsense that he couldn't even begin to understand.

She had the easy part. Just stand there and whisper, while he felt like he was fighting for his life.

Pell's fingers clutched against the stupid teddybear tighter. It's stitched smile quivered; its button-eyes blinked—somehow.

"Eternity! One more eternity! Come and play!"

"Shut the hell up!" Pell barked, shoving it harder against the pitch-black cauldron. "You're not helping you creepy ass bear!"

Far below them, Enya's yellow eyes shined with a yellow hue. She stood still, fingers clenched, fists balled. She was watching the whole ordeal; her senses hovered right behind them as she watched. The brewing storm, however, made it hard to see clearly. But she could feel them struggling. Pell, especially.

His body was being torn and chipped. Even as Ted.E, who was now a dozen steps up the shapely pyramid was breaking apart. Both front paws were gone. Its skull half destroyed. Each second, a rib broke off. Although she was low level—Ted.E's guardian role showed severe tenacity. To be able to withstand such powerful force and not be crushed yet. Emphasis—on yet.

What can I do…? What can I do…?!

She wanted to help them. But with no mana, and no soul-energy—there was nothing she could do. Even if she went into her acolyte form, there wasn't anything useful she could assist them with. Maybe she could summon another skeleton and etch a guardian rerole enchantment onto it, but that would take too long.

All at once, her senses snapped back to her. She spun around, a danger being alerted to her. Her gaze locked onto the dark cave entrance.

She could feel them.

Inside the mouth of the cave, she felt the walls and rocks shudder. The darkness pulsed. An army was coming.

Wraiths.

Dozens—maybe hundreds of them, flying fervently through the passage. Claws dragging along the ground, bundles of ghostly mass pushing against one another. The cauldron had probably alerted them with all the commotion it was making. And being behind a mountain with such a narrow entrance, the Dullahan's domain was most likely less effective as it had to penetrate rock. The air did feel much clearer here, despite the ongoing windy storm from above.

The Dullahan turned at the same time she did, as if also sensing the disturbance. It ran forward, pivoting, metal plates grinding and quickly picking up the carrier's light. It transformed back into its black greatsword, free from the conjuration that Elria's witchcraft had affected it. Without hesitation, it ran to the entrance to defend it.

The Dullahan met the horde head-on.

Its armor clanged with every step as it swung its sword, carving through the first wave of wraiths. Each swing was like a thunderclap, black steel meeting spectral bodies, scattering them into ribbons of pale smoke. The air filled with shrieks and the entrance flashed white and violet sparks.

Enya stood frozen behind it, watching the wraiths get slaughtered. But the amount of wraiths that tried to pour through was ludicrous. For every wraith it cut down, three more poured from the darkness. The cavern mouth had become a storm of death.

Then the world boomed.

A deafening crack tore through the air behind her, rolling down from the top of the pyramid. The sound was so sudden that even the Dullahan stopped mid-swing for just a moment before resuming its onslaught.

Enya's head whipped around.

High above, through the howling storm, several small somethings flew free from the explosion—tumbling end over end. For an instant she thought it was debris, scattered stone from the pyramid. Then her senses sharpened, focus tightening until one specific shape cleared.

It was a skull.

Pell's skull.

"Damn it!" his voice echoed faintly, carried by the wind.

"Pell!" Enya shouted, her voice cracking.

Without thinking, she ran.

The Featherstep boots shimmered beneath her feet. It increased her speed, and gave her an extra bounce to each step. She poured every ounce of focus into her senses, tracing the skull's descent through the chaos surrounding them.

Time bent, and the world slowed.

Wind pushed and resisted against her as she tried to move faster, almost like she running in water.

Too far. He was simply too far.

Even at this speed, she wouldn't reach him before impact. And even if she did—her arms would break from trying to catch him. Enya wasn't physically strong to catch something that dense from that height. Pell would shatter.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. "No… no, no, no!"

Desperation cut through fear. She reached for the only power left.

The world darkened at the edges of her vision slightly, before turning pure white.

Her robes stitched themselves with shadow.. A pale tiara of mist formed above her brow, and her eyes turned misty as the Acolyte's power burned through her veins.

The power hit her like a tidal wave and immediately drained her dry. Her body trembled. She felt a wave of exhaustion chewing at her soul. She hadn't felt this before. Now, it felt like she had just run for several hours without a break. It seemed like using the skill multiple times took a toll on her.

However, she ignored it and forced her body to keep going..

Her hand thrust forward.

She formed a spell circuit; the air split open, and a massive skeletal arm burst from the ground ahead—taller than trees, each finger bulky and sharp. It reached out across the field, moving just as fast as her bone spear strikes.

Pell's skull fell straight toward it. The skeletal hand swiped and snatched Pell's skull into its palm at a curved angle to redirect some of the bone-shattering momentum. The bone fingers curved gently around his skull, keeping it safe until Enya caught up.

Enya staggered to a stop, panting heavily. The giant hand lumbered above her before dissolving into mist. Pell's skull landed softly in her arms, warm from friction and magic.

"Nice… catch," Pell groaned weakly, his voice faint but unmistakable.

Enya dropped to her knees, hugging him to her chest. "Don't fall again, dummy," she whispered, breath shaking. The Acolyte's tiara flickered once, then shattered. Her robes reverted to normal as the exhaustion hit full force, leaving her trembling in place.

Then—another explosion ripped through the air.

She jerked her head up. Pell's soul-flames did the same.

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The top of the pyramid flashed white, the light tearing through the storm like a rift in the sky. A heartbeat later, the sound reached her; a deep, concussive blast rolled across the field.

To her right, something massive detonated.

Ted.E.

The boarbear's half-broken body convulsed once before bursting apart entirely—bone fragments and dust scattering into the wind. The guardian had taken too much damage.

"Ted.E..." she breathed, voice breaking.

The storm above raged on.

And somewhere within it, the ritual still burned.

Enya's grip on Pell's skull tightened as the wind howled above.

"Kid…" Pell's voice came out rough. "My body's still up there, but damn it's getting hard to hold it. I think I'm about to come apart any second. It's about to be raining me up there."

Enya's eyes shot down at him. "What? Then is it going to fail?" She looked back up, squinting through the storm. "What about Elria? Is she—"

Before Enya could finish, a deafening boom tore the air in half.

"No. We got it. Just… you're going to have to make me another body."

Light then flooded everything.

Enya threw her arm over her eyes, senses screaming as her over-enhanced vision tried to make sense of the blinding glare. Her ears rang—sharp, relentless. The world became pure white and soundless.

Then, through the haze and the roaring wind, she heard him, voice echoing through the static.

"Luckily it was only one minute," Pell said.

The light pulsed once more, then began to fade. Slowly, the blinding brilliance dimmed back to gray. The air trembled, the storm crackling with residual energy that hissed and fizzled into silence.

Enya blinked hard, her vision swimming as the haze cleared. Her hearing returned in waves—the low hum of magic, the distant clang of the Dullahan still fighting somewhere near the cave.

When she finally looked back up, her eyes widened.

The black storm and fog still remained up top, like it had been when they first arrived. But the more important thing, was what was trailing down.

Elria slowly drifted down the steps, her form mostly ghost again. In her hands, was the black cauldron and the athame. Pell's body was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the Teddy Bear.

Enya's eyes flashed yellow as she sent her senses back to the tip of the pyramid. It blurred as the black storm was still swirling up there, but she could make it out.

The Teddy Bear floated in the air, slowly rotating. On its face, was a stitched smile.

She could swear that it was… laughing.

Enya's senses returned to her just in time to witness Elria get near. When she finally reached the base, she smiled and said: "Freedom!" and held the cauldron overhead, celebrating.

Enya smiled, and did the same, holding Pell's skull above her. "Yay!"

Inside the old church, Felicity sat in her chair by the window, the one spot where the filtered light of her domain fell just right across her lap. A small basket of yarn rested beside her, and with careful, steady motions, she knitted another soft row into what looked like a half-finished scarf.

Each stitch fell into place with quiet precision—click, pull, wrap, repeat.

The sound of knitting needles echoed gently through the nave.

Outside, the fog pressed faintly against the stained glass, dull and colorless. She didn't mind. The silence here was hers; it was a peace she had carved with her own hands.

Then—

Bang!

The church doors burst open.

A rush of cold air and scattered dust filled the hall as two figures stumbled in, slamming the doors shut behind them.

Pell turned, shoving his shoulder against the heavy wood as something thudded from the other side—wet, dragging, accompanied by a low, inhuman moan.

He exhaled sharply. "Forgot how persistent those damn death revenants are."

"Remnants! They're called remnants!" Enya corrected, catching her breath.

"Why do you get that name correct, and butcher every other one wrong?" Pell shot back.

Enya took a deep inhale and looked up at him. "I get names wrong?"

Before Pell could answer, a calm voice drifted from deeper inside the church.

"You two are back already?" Felicity asked. She noticed that Pell's appearance had changed quite… a lot. His frame was much slimmer, but more refined. Like a toothpick made of steel.

She set her knitting needles and cloth aside, rising from her seat. The space around her seemed to ripple. The wide stone interior of the church folded inward—walls closing, pews fading—until the domain shifted into something smaller, cozier. Candles replaced torches. Herbs and crystals lined a nearby shelf. The place felt more like a witch's sitting room than a sanctum.

Felicity flicked her fingers, and a polished table poofed into existence. She crossed to one side and conjured a chair to sit in. Two more chairs appeared opposite her, facing the pair. "Please," she said smoothly, gesturing for them to sit.

Enya and Pell exchanged a wary glance. Pell took the lead, moving forward and sitting down first. Enya followed, perching nervously beside him.

Felicity rested her chin on one hand, studying them with mild curiosity. "You're back rather quickly," she said. "Hasn't even been more than a week. Probably."

"Probably?" Pell echoed.

She shrugged lightly. "I don't exactly keep track of time anymore. Being trapped in this place tends to dull that sense. But I'm fairly sure the night's fallen outside… seven or eight times, give or take." Her smile curved faintly. "Anyway—why are you back so soon? Did the prison prove too difficult?"

She leaned forward slightly, her tone thoughtful. "I thought about it after you left, but it occurred to me that I never actually asked how strong the both of you were. There are some very powerful creatures down there, ones I forgot to mention." A small crease formed at the corner of her eyes—an expression that might've passed for guilt. "I was worried, for a moment, that my one chance at freedom might have died before reaching the end. I'm glad to see you're back in one piece."

Pell leaned back in his chair, bones creaking. "Yeah. We're back. And yeah, there were some strong things down there—almost killed us a few times." He gave a dry laugh. "Even ran into a Dullahan."

Felicity's eyebrows rose. "A Dullahan?" she repeated, sounding almost impressed. "And you lived?"

"Barely," Pell said.

Felicity sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. "Then it's my fault for not sending you in better prepared. I should have known the prison's guardians would still be active after all this time." She lifted her hand, the air around her fingers starting to shimmer faintly. "I'll give you some additional items, and you can go back down there—"

"No need," Pell interrupted, raising a skeletal hand. "Well… we'll gladly take the items, but there's no reason to go back down."

Felicity tilted her head slightly. "What do you mean, no reason to go back down?"

Pell didn't answer right away. Instead, he stood up. "Hold that thought."

He strode toward the church door. He took a quick glance at the nearest window to peer outside. The death remnants had dispersed. Most of them had gone back to their homes or were idly walking away.

"Good," he muttered.

He unlatched the door and slipped outside. He jogged out several feet into the barren courtyard of the village. Pell stopped, opening his hand. A faint shimmer of light spiraled outward as he pulled open his inventory.

"Alright… let's see…"

A moment later, a pitch-black cauldron materialized, large and cracked. The Athame was still buried in its side like a thorn in a wound, flickering with dull blue light. Both objects dropped onto the stone with a heavy clang.

Inside the church, Felicity froze, but then she snapped upward. Her hands pressed against the table, eyes widening. The chair behind her scraped on the floor as it got pushed away.

She opened her mouth, breath catching.

"That's…"

Pell jogged back and slammed the church door shut behind him. The lock clicked. He turned toward her, soul-flames burning intently as he stared at her.

"We got your cauldron," he said simply.

Felicity stared past him toward the now-closed door. Her expression shifted—shock first, then disbelief, and finally something close to awe.

"…You actually did it," she murmured. Felicity's eyes narrowed. "Why did you put it outside? Hurry up and bring it in."

Pell walked back to the table, bones creaking. He didn't bother with a smile. "No. Not without our rewards first."

She blinked. Then, with a long, slow sigh, she drew herself up. "Very well. I'll give you a few items and some coin—"

Pell stood a fraction of an inch, as if to accept, then stopped. "No."

Felicity's lids thinned into a slit. "What do you mean, no?"

He sat down in his chair, bony fingers steepling on the table. "We want the rewards, alright. But this was a mutual deal, wasn't it? We bring you the Cauldron, you free us from the village. We did the hard work down there. We even almost died—several times." He let the words hang. "You get your freedom back, and we get a handful of trinkets for almost dying? Doesn't seem like a fair trade."

Felicity's mouth tightened. "Are you trying to extort me now?"

Pell kept his gaze calm, steady as old wood. "A few items aren't going to make up for what we did. You stayed here, knitting—" He glanced toward the window where her knitting spot caught the light, as if to underline the point—"while we went into a god-forsaken prison without proper instruction. We deserve payment. Proper payment."

The witch's patience snapped. "Greedy skeleton."

Her fingers twitched. A thread of cold air lanced from her palm and wrapped around them both. The room convulsed for a heartbeat; their limbs locked as if bound by iron.

Enya thrashed, small fists battering the air. "Hey! Let me go!" she shouted. Her wrists scraped uselessly against the invisible bonds.

Pell did not struggle. He stayed dead still, jaw set, eyes burning with a low, dangerous fire. Felicity's lips curled. "No reward, greedy skeleton. Bring the Cauldron inside."

Pell's voice was quiet. "No. Not unless you give us more—what we deserve for our efforts."

Felicity's hand rose, open and threatening. "Either bring it in now, or I kill one of you."

Her tone was level, but the calm in it carried ice. The threat sat in the air, dangled like bait right before them.

Pell's soul-flames thinned. He met her gaze without flinching. "You kill one of us, and you won't get your Cauldron."

She laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "You're in no position to negotiate. The moment you entered the church, you lost all the right. I can't hurt you outside—but I'm the master in here. You cannot escape me. Even if you are unafraid of death, I will simply kill the girl. Are you willing to risk her life just because you're greedy?"

A beat passed. Then Pell's voice, quiet and sudden, like a stone dropped into still water: "Yeah? Kill her and she'll come back and destroy the Cauldron." Pell let the words hang. "Right after she revives."

"Revives?" Felicity snapped, incredulous. "What—"

"She's a necromancer, witch." Pell said only one word. One word that landed like a thrown torch in the quiet room.

"Phylactery."

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