Erica and the others hurried back to the decrepit old house. The moment they pushed the door open, they were met with the sight of the little demon children gathered anxiously around two unconscious kids. Each of the young imps wore the same look of frantic worry on their faces.
They were the same two who'd stayed behind with Jarrak to watch over the house. Erica rushed forward at once, checking each child carefully. There wasn't a single wound on their bodies. Their faces looked calm, almost serene - like they were simply lost in a deep sleep.
She placed her fingertips gently on their foreheads and felt it immediately - a dark force pulsing inside their minds.
"This is... a sleep spell," Erica murmured under her breath. She hadn't wanted this to happen - because if it did, then the one responsible could only be that person. Yet she couldn't think of any other explanation.
"A sleep spell? Then is there any way to break it?" Jarla asked steadily, though her fists were clenched tight.
Erica shook her head faintly and explained,
"This kind of spell can only be undone by the one who cast it."
The words made the room fall deeper into a frightened hush. Erica turned her eyes to the two condemned souls slumped half-conscious on Lars's back. She said,
"Lars, set them down."
Lars obeyed wordlessly, lowering them to the cold floor. Erica stepped closer.
"Alright. We need to dress their wounds at once. Do any of you have cloth bandages and a sewing needle? You do? Good - bring them to me, quickly."
Several of the young demons scurried off to another room, rummaging for supplies. Moments later, they came racing back, arms full with rolls of soft cloth and a crude bone needle threaded with sinew.
Erica took the thread, pushed it through the needle's eye in one smooth motion. If only they had spirits or vinegar to clean the wounds - but they didn't. She began stitching Algernon's torn flesh.
She pressed her thumb against the ragged edge of the wound, guiding the needle through skin with slow, steady hands. Blood oozed out, staining the thread crimson, its warmth carrying that sickly tang of half-rotted flesh.
The children gathered around her, uneasy at the gruesome sight, yet their curiosity anchored them in a tight ring at a respectful distance. Such was a child's nature - fearful yet drawn to the forbidden.
Each pull of the thread closed torn skin together, the knots tied off deftly with her slender nails. From time to time, she glanced at the man's deathly pale face. By the flickering torchlight, she saw his eyes crack open - dull, milky from pain - fixing on her face. There was no hatred there, no pleading - only the faint spark of awareness.
He was coming back to himself - good, Erica thought.
The final stitch sunk into flesh. She cut the thread with her hunting knife, pressing a hand to the wound to slow the bleeding. Beside him, the woman stirred, her eyes flickering open, a hoarse rattle leaking from her lips.
"Please, stay still. It will hurt a little - bear with it," Erica murmured softly, but her tone left no room for protest.
Mallorie stared back at her silently, teeth biting down hard on her lip as the needle bit into her skin.
At last, it was done. Erica wrapped the bandages around their wounds and let out a quiet breath. Now, all they could do was let them rest before the questions began.
But then she heard it - heavy footsteps crunching on the damp earth outside. Metal hooves striking stone, claws dragging over rock. The sounds drew nearer, louder with every heartbeat.
The children heard it too. Jarla stole a glance through a crack in the door, then shrank back, voice trembling.
"Erica… There's… someone coming…"
Before Erica could respond, a loud knock rattled the rotting door. Jarla looked to her for permission. Erica only nodded calmly. There was nothing to fear - she knew who stood beyond that door.
Two of the children swung it open. A rush of cold wind swept in, carrying the bitter scent of ash.
A towering Hellborn figure filled the doorway. Broad-shouldered, with backward-sweeping black horns. A tattered black cloak fluttered behind the dark-scaled chest plate covering his torso. Massive hands, iron claws scraping the moldy wood, let out an awful creak.
On his chest plate gleamed an emblem - a chained centaur's head - the mark of the Centaur Cavalry Captain patrolling the First Ring of the Seventh Layer.
His eyes scanned each face in the room before resting on Erica. The scars crossing his rugged face only made him more fearsome to behold - yet beneath that brutal countenance were eyes the soft blue of a calm sea.
"Child," he rasped, voice rough but without harshness. "You must be Erica - the one who travels with Lady Lacey, am I right?"
"I am. And you must be Ortgard, Captain of the Centaur Guard?"
"Aye. Lady Lacey came to me earlier. She asked me to find you and bring you here."
Erica locked eyes with Ortgard, her gaze sharp and searching. She flicked a glance at the children, wordlessly signaling them to keep their distance from the giant figure.
Ortgard dipped his head slightly, his blue gaze sweeping the battered room again - his eyes caught the crude bandages, the unconscious prisoners, the ring of young imps closing protectively around Erica. A strange scene, but it did not seem to surprise him.
"You've run into trouble, I take it?" he asked.
"Only a few… unfortunate complications." Erica's eyes shifted to the two wounded souls.
"One more thing," Ortgard went on. "Was it you lot who caused the blast that rocked the house just now?" His finger pointed at the children.
They froze, darting glances at one another, not daring to meet his gaze. Erica stayed silent. She knew she couldn't hide behind the Darker name to shield this one - it would be abuse of power, and she loathed that thought.
She looked at Lars. He'd been silent all this time - now he sat by the window, staring out, feigning indifference to the whole exchange.
You started this mess, you fool, Erica thought bitterly. If she'd known, she would never have let herself be dragged into this reckless revenge.
"You've gone too far this time," Ortgard said gruffly. "If the old village chief finds out, there won't be a place left for you to hide. But we'll deal with that later. For now, we must leave, Erica."
She turned to the children again. They looked ready to follow - or at least terrified of being left behind with the two barely living strangers. But they could not come. If Fallon had sent for her, this had to be about her sister's mission. No place for children where they were going.
She reached for her satchel, discarded earlier beside Algernon when she'd stitched him up. As she bent to pick it up, she felt a faint breath against her ear - startled, she looked down. Algernon's eyes were cracked open. The clouded pupils rolled, lips trembling to form words, though his throat rattled like a broken bellows.
She leaned close, her hand cradling his head.
"You're awake? Easy now - don't force yourself-"
But Algernon paid her no mind. From his parched throat, he forced out broken words, breath tainted with blood and cold sweat. One shoulder shuddered, his eyes half-lost yet locking with Erica's unwavering stare.
He whispered - so faint she had to bend her ear to catch it.
"Louise… Ritual… Mortal realm…"
The words struck her mind like an icy blade. For an instant, Erica went still - then everything clicked into place. Louise - gone for a year - was part of a ritual to open a gate to the mortal world.
The eight Hellborn demons who vanished under Fallon's orders. Louise's disappearance. It was all connected.
And Jarrak… what part did he play?
Algernon's chest heaved in ragged gasps, lips moving once more, but only a weak groan escaped.
"Don't push yourself, Algernon. I know what I need to do now," Erica whispered, pressing a hand to his chest to steady him.
Behind her, Ortgard had stepped closer. He looked down, voice low and husky.
"What did he say?"
Erica rose slowly. Ortgard caught the sharp glint in her eyes - he could tell it was something grave.
"I couldn't make it out," she lied.
Ortgard nodded slowly, accepting it. She would not say more - lest the children hear and insist on coming too.
She turned to the little ones waiting, eyes wide with fear and silent questions.
"Ortgard, anyone else with you?" she asked.
"Three centaurs outside. Ready."
"Good. Have two of them stay and guard this place. If anything happens - anything at all - they'll handle it."
Ortgard dipped his head, quietly impressed by her commanding tone - like she'd been drilled for this all her life.
The Darkers really are cut from a different cloth, he thought.
Erica rested a hand on Jarla's trembling shoulder. The girl's eyes pleaded with her, but no words came.
Erica smiled, squeezing her shoulder, her voice clear and steady, washing away some of the fear in the small, crowded room.
"I'll be back soon. And this time, I'm bringing Jarrak - and Louise - home."
Jarla could only bow her head, her tiny fingers twisting the hem of her filthy tunic. She gave a small nod.
The other little imps gathered behind her in silence, eyes wide with fear and curiosity, as if waiting for some final command from Erica.
Ortgard's gaze swept over the children before flicking back to Erica, his voice rough with urgency.
"We must move now. We can't afford to lose any more time."
"I know," Erica replied, her hand still resting on Jarla's shoulder.
She lifted her head to look at Lars. At last, he tore his eyes from the window and rose slowly to his feet, blood-red eyes narrowing at her with that familiar air of detached boredom.
"Ready, my friend?" she asked with a faint smile.
"Always."
One look at him and she knew - he just wanted to go home. But life was never so simple. She reached out and ran her fingers through his fur, a quiet gesture of comfort.
Ortgard rapped his steel claws against his scaled breastplate - a harsh, metallic crack that shattered the heavy stillness. He nodded once at Erica. She slipped her hand from Jarla's shoulder, leaned down, and whispered something in the girl's ear. Jarla only nodded again, a single hot tear slipping down her wrist.
Then Erica turned to the others.
"Watch over Algernon and Mallorie for me. And keep an eye on those two, too."
She stepped back, her eyes meeting Lars's.
"Let's go, Lars."
The three of them stepped out into the cold night. Outside waited three fierce centaurs - half-demon monsters armored in plates of dark bone that covered their chests and shoulders. Their lower halves were four-legged beasts, iron-shod hooves stamping out smoky breath that curled into the night. Each carried a massive bow strapped to its back.
Ortgard strode ahead and barked a few quiet orders. Two of the centaurs broke away, stomping toward the children inside.
Behind them, the children crowded around the broken window, wide eyes fixed on Erica's small figure as she climbed onto Lars's back. She bent low and tapped his shoulder - a silent signal.
Ortgard mounted one of the centaurs, gripping the reins - thick chains of black iron - his ragged cloak whipping in the wind.
Erica cast one last look at the children. She caught Jarla's tearful eyes, the children clutching each other tight, their spindly fingers smeared with ash, too afraid to even blink, lest they miss her departure. She gave them a soft smile, her lips moving in a soundless promise.
I'll come back.
Then with a gentle nudge, Lars sprang forward. His claws scraped the earth with a shrill screech, four powerful limbs propelling them into the night. Beside them, the centaurs' iron hooves struck in thunderous rhythm, armor clanking in time with their heavy breaths and the rattle of steel plates.
The dirt path stretched ahead, blurred by drifting ash. Erica hunched low, gripping Lars's bony shoulders, feeling the wild thunder of his heartbeat beneath his warm fur.
Ortgard rode at her side, his voice rumbling above the wind's howl.
"Erica, did you learn anything from what he said?"
She turned her head slightly, wind whipping her dark hair across her lips. Her eyes stayed locked on the dark road ahead, but her answer came firm and clear.
"There are those who mean to open a gate to the mortal realm. And Louise - the children's friend - he's part of the ritual."
Ortgard's grip tightened on the reins, his blue eyes darkening with a shadowed glint.
"Damn it. Then we'd better pray we're not too late."
Erica nodded faintly. Her pulse quickened - not from fear, but from a deep, gnawing instinct churning in her chest. She still couldn't believe it - Louise, of all people, caught up in something like this. Dragging Jarrak into it too. She'd thought their bond was stronger, thought the boy had finally shed his hate after all these years…
So much for that, Lars's voice drifted back, low enough for only her to hear.
"In the end, Eri, there's always a piece of darkness in everyone. Something they can't tame - no matter how many years pass. Time doesn't heal everything."
Erica said nothing. She knew that truth - better than most. Which was why she would never give up. She never had.
"That's why we fight harder, don't we?" she said, smiling into the wind.
Lars flashed a quiet grin back. That was the Erica he knew - the one he would follow anywhere.