The dungeon was a cesspool of filth and despair, its air thick with the stench of rotting straw, rusted metal, and unwashed bodies. The water trickling in from the heavy rain outside did little to cleanse the space; instead, it stirred the filth, intensifying the acrid reek that clung to every surface. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoed faintly, a macabre rhythm in the oppressive silence.

  Alice crept through the dungeon’s labyrinthine corridors, her steps deliberate and cautious. Her sharp ears twitched at every faint noise—the distant clank of chains, the muffled sound of water pooling in the corners—but none were the voice she longed to hear. Her body ached from her previous battle with Axel, her muscles screaming with every movement, yet she forced herself forward, her determination burning brighter than her pain.

  “Annabelle…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, carried only by the damp, heavy air. Her grip on her sword tightened, her fingers trembling as she glanced into each shadowed cell she passed. Her boots splashed softly in the ankle-deep water, the sound barely breaking the silence.

  “Annabelle,” she muttered again, her voice tinged with desperation. The dungeon stretched endlessly before her, a maze of decay and darkness. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her breaths shallow as panic began to creep into her mind. She passed empty cell after empty cell, each one a mockery of her hopes.

  “Please… where are you?” she murmured, her voice breaking as the foul air burned her throat.

  Her steps quickened, splashing louder as she moved deeper into the dungeon. Her whisper turned to a quiet call. “Annabelle!”

  Each empty room she passed chipped away at her composure, the cold, damp walls seeming to close in around her. She rounded a corner and froze, her eyes locking onto a cell door hanging open, the rusted hinges barely holding it in place. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed inside.

  The room was empty.

  Water trickled down the walls, pooling on the floor where faint, fresh footprints marked the mud. Alice’s breath caught as she scanned the small, desolate space. Her hands trembled, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to fight the growing panic that threatened to consume her.

  “No…” she whispered, her voice shaking. Her eyes darted around the cell, searching for any sign of her sister. “No, no, no…”

  Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stumbled back into the hallway, abandoning all pretense of stealth. Her voice rose, carrying through the dungeon in a desperate cry. “Annabelle!”

  Her scream echoed off the stone walls, her sharp ears straining for any reply. For a moment, there was only silence, and then—

  “Alice!”

  Her sister’s voice cut through the darkness like a blade, faint but clear. Alice gasped, her golden eyes widening as the sound reignited her hope. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the voice, her boots splashing through the rancid water.

  “Annabelle!” she shouted again, her voice cracking.

  She turned a corner sharply, her breath catching as she saw her sister in the distance. Annabelle struggled in the grasp of a knight, her bound form jostling as he carried her through the hallway. A group of heavily armed knights surrounded him, their armor gleaming dully in the faint torchlight.

  “There she is!” one of them shouted, raising his blade. “It’s the wolf bitch! Kill her!”

  The knight holding Annabelle bolted, disappearing into the shadows as the others stepped forward to block Alice’s path. Her chest heaved, her lungs burning as her mind raced. Axel’s warnings echoed in her ears: her body was weak, vulnerable from their last fight. Pain flared with every movement, a brutal reminder of her injuries.

  But none of that mattered. Annabelle was so close, within her grasp. She couldn’t let this chance slip away.

  Alice gritted her teeth, gripping the hilt of her sword until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes burned with a fierce determination as she took a step forward. “Out of my way,” she growled, her voice low and feral.

  The knights charged, their heavy boots splashing through the filthy water. Alice raised her blade, meeting them head-on with a metallic clash that echoed through the dungeon. Sparks flew as steel struck steel, the impact jarring her already battered body.

  She grunted in pain but pushed forward, her blade cutting through the first knight’s guard. With a swift, precise strike, she drove her sword into the gap between his armor. He crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly in the water.

  Another knight swung at her, but she ducked under the heavy blade, her muscles screaming in protest. She countered with a quick slash across his exposed leg, sending him staggering back. Blood splattered into the water, mingling with the filth.

  Alice’s vision blurred as the pain coursing through her body threatened to cripple her. A sharp blade grazed her side, drawing a fresh line of blood, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Her sister needed her.

  Her movements became more reckless, more desperate. Each swing of her sword brought her closer to Annabelle, but each step came at a cost. Cuts and slashes marred her body, her blood slicking the ground beneath her feet. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as her heart pounded against her ribs.

  “Annabelle!” she screamed again, her voice raw with anguish.

  Her blade clashed against another knight’s, the force rattling her arms as she deflected his strike. She twisted, driving her sword upward into his chest. He fell with a gurgled cry, but she barely registered it. Pain swarmed her body, her limbs screaming for rest, but she pushed forward, her mind focused solely on her sister.

  Each step felt heavier, each movement slower, but her determination never faltered. She would not fail. Not now. Not ever.

  “Alice!” Annabelle’s desperate voice rang out, filled with anguish. Her bound arms stretched toward her sister, trembling as tears streamed down her face. Helplessly, she watched the same people who had destroyed their family now inflict relentless pain on Alice. Guilt churned in her chest, her cries carrying the weight of despair.

  Alice’s ears twitched at the sound of her sister’s voice, piercing through the haze of exhaustion and pain. Her grip on her sword tightened, her golden eyes blazing with renewed determination.

  Annabelle’s voice became her fuel, her anchor.

  “I’m coming!” Alice shouted hoarsely, her body trembling with effort as she fought to close the distance.

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  Her sword struck true, cutting down a knight blocking her path, but as one fell, another immediately stepped into his place. The knight carrying Annabelle moved further down the corridor, his boots splashing through the rancid water. “Keep her back!” he barked, quickening his pace toward the staircase ahead.

  Alice surged forward, weaving through the relentless strikes of the knights. Her blade clashed with theirs in a cacophony of ringing steel, sparks flying with every desperate parry. Her movements grew sharper, more fluid, as the adrenaline coursing through her veins dulled the burning pain of her wounds. But even as her body moved with renewed precision, the weight of exhaustion lingered in her limbs, threatening to pull her down with every step.

  Annabelle cried out again, her voice cracking. “Alice! Please, stop! You’re hurt!”

  Her sister’s plea only fueled Alice’s resolve. “I’m not leaving you!” she roared, slashing through the next knight with brutal efficiency. Blood splattered the walls as her sword carved through his chest, and she pushed past him, her boots splashing in the filthy water as she pressed forward.

  The knight carrying Annabelle reached the stairs, his frustration mounting as he glanced back at Alice’s relentless pursuit. “Move faster!” he shouted at his comrades. The knights tightened their formation, creating a human wall between Alice and her sister.

  Alice’s heart pounded in her chest, her lungs burning as she fought to close the gap. Every swing of her sword was an act of defiance, a promise to herself and her sister that she would not fail. She ducked under one blade, sidestepped another, her movements driven by sheer willpower. But the closer she got, the more the knights fought to push her back.

  One knight snarled, his voice venomous. “You’re finished!” He swung his sword with all his might, the blade carving a deep line across Alice’s back. She staggered, a cry of pain escaping her lips as white-hot agony surged through her. Her knees buckled, her vision blurred, but she refused to fall.

  Gritting her teeth, Alice turned sharply, her sword flashing as she drove it into the knight’s throat. He collapsed with a gurgled cry, but Alice didn’t wait to watch him fall. She stumbled forward, her breaths ragged, her vision narrowing to the staircase and the knight holding Annabelle.

  “Annabelle!” Alice screamed again, her voice raw and strained.

  Each step was a battle. Her legs trembled, her bloodied boots slipping on the wet stone. The adrenaline surging through her veins masked the worst of the pain, but she could feel her body beginning to falter. Blades scraped against her armor, fresh cuts burning as they drew more blood. Her strength waned, yet she pushed on, her sword slashing through the next knight in her path.

  “Don’t let her escape!” a voice roared from behind her, and the remaining knights surged forward, their heavy boots splashing through the water as they gave chase.

  Every inch Alice gained, the knights fought to take back. They swung their swords in coordinated strikes, forcing her to dodge, parry, and retaliate with dwindling energy. Her strikes became wilder, more desperate, as she closed the distance between herself and her sister.

  The knight carrying Annabelle reached the base of the stairs, throwing a glance over his shoulder. Annabelle screamed again, her voice cracking with desperation. “Alice!”

  The sound was all Alice needed. With a final burst of energy, she broke through the line of knights, her blade carving through one more enemy as she surged forward. Her chest heaved, her legs threatening to give out, but she reached the foot of the staircase, her gaze locking onto her sister.

  “Hold on!” she shouted, her voice trembling. “I’m coming!”

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  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  The bell’s piercing toll echoed through the stormy night, cutting through the relentless hammering of rain against the castle’s stone walls. Lightning ripped across the sky in jagged streaks, illuminating the fortress with brief, blinding flashes. Each rumble of thunder followed close behind, shaking the castle to its very foundation. The storm felt alive, its fury matching the chaos brewing within.

  Several knights gathered near a narrow window, their armor dull in the dim torchlight that flickered weakly against the encroaching shadows. They leaned closer to the rain-streaked glass, their expressions grim as they strained to see through the torrential downpour. The bell continued to toll, each metallic clang ringing louder, sharper, as though heralding an impending catastrophe.

  “What’s that noise?” one knight muttered, his voice barely audible over the storm’s fury.

  “The bell,” another replied, his brow furrowed. “But why would they sound it—”

  His words faltered as the farthest tower near the ravine came into view. The knights froze, their breath catching as their eyes locked onto the inferno.

  Massive bursts of fire erupted from the tower’s windows, the flames stretching hungrily toward the storm clouds above. Thick plumes of black smoke billowed upward, swirling into the night like an omen of destruction. The fire’s glow painted the heavens in shades of crimson and orange, a hellish beacon that transformed the storm into a scene from nightmares. It was as if the tower itself had been claimed by the underworld, the flames defying the rain’s attempt to quench them.

  “My God…” one knight whispered, pressing his forehead against the glass. The fear in his voice was unmistakable.

  From the distant tower came faint yet unmistakable screams—horrific cries of agony that cut through the storm like shards of glass. Twisted, primal, they carried with them the sound of pure suffering. These were not the cries of men in battle but something far more sinister, as though the souls trapped within were being torn apart.

  “What’s happening over there?” another knight asked, his voice trembling as he pulled back from the window. His hands tightened on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white.

  “It’s… it’s the signal,” one of the senior knights finally said, his face pale. “The tower’s been taken.”

  The realization struck them all at once, sending a wave of unease through the group. Their earlier curiosity turned to alarm, their expressions hardening as the urgency of the situation set in.

  “Move!” one of them barked, snapping them from their stupor. “Prepare for battle! Load the cannons! Arm the men! Every knight must be ready for combat!”

  They sprang into action, boots clanging against the stone floors as they sprinted down the dimly lit corridors. The flickering torches barely illuminated their path, casting eerie, shifting shadows that seemed to chase them as they ran. The bell’s toll grew louder, faster, its frantic rhythm mimicking the rising tension in their chests.

  The rain outside intensified, the sound of water cascading down the castle walls drowning out even their hurried footsteps. Lightning lit the hallways in blinding flashes, each strike accompanied by a deafening crash of thunder that seemed to shake loose the very stones around them. The storm felt like an extension of the chaos, its fury mirroring the growing dread within the castle.

  “Man the walls!” one knight shouted as they reached an intersection. “Get the cannons loaded and ready! You—sound the alarm in the lower barracks! We need every able-bodied knight armed and in position!”

  The group splintered, each knight rushing to fulfill their duties. Armor clanged as they armed themselves, swords were unsheathed, and heavy cannons were wheeled into position. The air buzzed with activity, yet there was no mistaking the undercurrent of fear.

  One knight paused, glancing out another window. His face was illuminated by a flash of lightning, his expression grim as he stared at the distant tower. The flames roared higher, the screams rising in pitch and intensity. He tore his gaze away, his stomach churning.

  “It’s not just an attack,” he murmured to himself, gripping the pommel of his sword. “It’s a massacre.”

  The bell continued to toll, its relentless clang ringing out like a grim harbinger of what was to come. The knights steeled themselves, their movements quick and methodical as they readied for battle. Yet no amount of preparation could erase the unease that hung heavy in the air.

  The storm raged on, and with it came the promise of blood.

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  Ah lawd HE comin'