One mistake.
That was all it took.
In this fight, they were always one mistake away from death.
And now death had embraced Daven.
The three remaining knights huddled together, backs touching and weapons drawn. Two held swords, and one held a battered shield.
Their grim and fearful eyes stared into the darkness above, waiting impatiently for the creature that lurked there.
The creature laughed at the sight of them.
"Your friend… he tasted so good," the creature said. Its voice was raspy and inhuman, pausing unnaturally between each word.
"I wonder… how would the big one taste?" it added, continuing its chilling laugh, which bounced across the hall.
Gareth grit his teeth and gripped his sword tighter. "Why don't you come find out, you bastard!" he shouted.
The laughter stopped.
The knights readied themselves for the creature's swift descent.
Something fell from the darkness, hitting the floor with a soft, wet sound.
They waited for an attack. Nothing followed. Instead, the smell of blood filled the air.
Gareth let his eyes move toward what had fallen. It was a body—Daven's.
Covered in blood and torn into so many pieces, loose skin hanging around exposed bone, the headless corpse was a terrifying sight.
A stifled cry escaped Gareth's mouth.
The creature attacked.
Moving as fast as an arrow, it descended on the party.
Gareth and Mark moved aside, letting the creature barrel down on Bjorn. The big man accepted the challenge.
The creature rammed its sharp claws into the shield, scratching deep grooves into the metal.
It swooped upward into the air and dove down again for another attack.
This time, the black claws dug into the shield like hooks.
The bat's wings kicked up dust as it tried to lift Bjorn into the darkness that had birthed it.
Bjorn strained his muscles, holding the shield down, locking himself and the bat in a brutal tug of war.
His muscles throbbed with exhaustion. They had only been in the castle for about fifteen minutes and he was already spent — but he would not yield.
He took a deep breath and summoned whatever strength he had left to hold the winged fiend in place.
Mark sprinted forward, closing the distance. His feet hammered against the cold concrete floor, desperate to reach Bjorn before the bat could break free.
The fiend sensed his approach and began releasing the shield to escape. Mark didn't allow it.
Something in him snapped as he threw his sword with explosive force.
The blade cut through the air like a seasoned swimmer slicing water. It struck one of the creature's thin wing flaps.
The bat screeched and released Bjorn's shield.
It tried to reach the ceiling, but its torn and bloody wing denied it.
Hanging helplessly in the air, it beat its wings and fled from the knights, trying to escape.
"There will be no escape for you, creature," Gareth said coldly.
He ran toward Bjorn with his sword drawn.
Bjorn dropped to one knee and raised his shield. Gareth leapt onto it and was launched upward by Bjorn's unnatural strength.
Soaring toward the bat, Gareth swung his sword, but the creature was just a little too high for a clean kill. Instead, his blade tore into its underbelly, spilling blood and intestines across Gareth's face.
Both of them fell.
One landed, rolled, and rose with sword in hand.
The other crashed down clutching its open insides.
The bat groaned in agony.
Holding its organs in its hands, its beady eyes glared at the knights. "Bas…tards…" it rasped, its voice fading.
Gareth charged, his eyes burning with rage and cold purpose.
With one clean stroke, the creature's head fell and rolled across the floor.
But Gareth didn't stop.
He stabbed the corpse repeatedly, grunting with each thrust.
He didn't stop until the body was unrecognizable and the Arrowhead had begun to dim.
With each strike, with each cut, he felt his anger and resentment swelling, like an insatiable hunger.
Bjorn called out, placing a hand on his shoulder and snapping him from his trance. "We have to go," he said.
Gareth turned toward him, his face hidden in shadows, smeared with blood. Through gnashed teeth, he gave a simple reply.
"I know."
****
Deeper they went—past old rooms that once heralded beauty, now left in terrible decay with their doors hanging open.
The three knights pressed forward, the Arrowhead glowing brighter the deeper the darkness became.
The hallways were long and plain, with empty torch holders lining the stone walls.
Each step echoed softly as the path led them toward a large chamber at the end, its wide entrance dark and silent.
And in that darkness, two were waiting.