The armory smelled like oil and old leather.

Alistair had spread the map across the workbench, weighed down at the corners with spare ammunition boxes. The team stood around it—Cora with her arms crossed, Mason checking his gauntlets, Sera loading bolts into her quiver, Derek gripping his staff. Lucian stood at the head of the table, his twin blades laid out in front of him.

Voss was not there yet. She was waiting outside the Keep, in the shadows where the security lights didn’t reach.

Alistair’s voice was low. "The stronghold is an old textile mill on the east end. Valentine’s people bought it six months ago. No one questioned it because the owners used a shell company." He tapped the map. "Sub‑basement. Three levels down. The pendant is in a ritual chamber at the lowest floor."

Cora’s jaw was tight. "We’re trusting her?"

"We’re using her knowledge. Trust doesn’t enter into it."

"What’s the difference?"

"Trust means you believe she won’t betray you. Using her means you watch her every move and you’re ready to cut her throat if she twitches wrong." Alistair looked at each of them. "Voss has her own reasons for wanting Valentine dead. Those reasons don’t make her loyal to us. Don’t forget that."

Derek spoke, his voice quiet. "She helped design the defenses. She knows the traps."

"Which is why she’s going with you." Alistair straightened. "Lucian, Cora, Voss. The three of you go in. Mason holds the entrance. Sera and Derek stay with the van. If things go wrong, you pull back. No heroics."

Mason’s expression didn’t change. "And if things go very wrong?"

"Then you do what you were trained to do."

Lucian picked up his blades. "Let’s move."

---

The van drove without headlights through the old industrial district.

Voss sat in the back, her silver hand wrapped in dark cloth to kill the glow. Cora sat as far from her as the bench allowed. Lucian sat across from both of them, his blades across his knees.

The tunnels came into view—a grated entrance set into a crumbling embankment. The driver killed the engine.

Voss spoke first. "The tunnels run under the mill. Valentine’s people use them to move supplies. They’re warded, but I know the markers." She pulled a small iron charm from her jacket. "This bypasses the detection spells."

Cora stared at the charm. "Where did you get that?"

"I made it. Before my capture."

"Convenient."

"It’s survival."

Lucian stepped out of the van. "Enough."

They walked into the dark.

---

The tunnels were narrow, wet, and cold.

Water dripped from the ceiling. The walls were marked with symbols—crude, demonic, pulsing faintly when Voss’s charm passed near them. She moved with confidence, her footsteps silent. Lucian stayed close behind. Cora brought up the rear, her hand on her sword.

"Pressure plate," Voss whispered, pointing at a section of floor that looked no different from the rest. "Step to the left."

They stepped.

"Tripwire." She pointed at a thin strand of shadow stretched across the corridor. "Duck."

They ducked.

"Ward." She pointed at a symbol carved into the stone. "Iron charm won’t work on this one. It’s keyed to demon blood."

Lucian stepped forward. He traced a counter‑rune in the air, his finger leaving a faint gold trail. The symbol on the wall flickered, then went dark.

Voss stared at him. "Where did you learn that?"

"I read."

She didn’t ask again.

---

The tunnel ended at a rusted metal door.

Beyond it, light seeped through the cracks—flickering, purple, wrong. Voss pressed her ear to the door. "The ritual chamber is on the other side. The pendant is in there." She listened. "One person inside. Maybe more. Hard to tell."

Cora moved to the door. "I’ll scout."

Lucian nodded.

She phased through the metal.

---

The chamber was large, with a high ceiling lost in shadow. In the center, a raised altar held the pendant—floating, glowing, but not alone. A massive crystal formation surrounded it, dark and veined with purple light. The pendant’s energy was being drawn into the crystal, channeled through veins that ran across the floor and up the walls.

The Veil‑breaking artifact.

Lillith stood before the altar, her back to the door. Her hands were raised, palms toward the crystal. Her lips moved in a low chant.

No sign of Valentine.

Cora phased back.

---

"There’s a crystal," she said, her voice tight. "Big. Dark. The pendant is powering it. Lillith is alone."

Voss’s face went pale. "The artifact is already active."

"Can we stop it?"

"Destroying the pendant might work. But it could also trigger the ritual early." Voss looked at Lucian. "We need a new plan."

Lucian put his hand on the door. It was warm. He could feel the energy pulsing through it.

"We go in," he said.

"Together?"

"Together."

He pushed the door open.

---

The chamber was louder than they expected.

The crystal hummed, a low vibration that pressed against their teeth. The pendant’s light flickered, matching the pulse of the artifact. Lillith turned.

She didn’t look surprised.

"Voss," she said. "I wondered when you’d come."

Voss stepped forward, her silver hand unwrapped. The glow was bright now, reflecting off the crystal. "You know why I’m here."

"You’re here to die." Lillith’s eyes moved to Lucian. "The boy. Valentine’s obsession."

Lucian drew his blades. "Where’s the pendant?"

"Behind me. Powering the end of your world." Lillith smiled. "You’re too late."

Cora phased. Her sword cut toward Lillith’s throat. Lillith raised a hand, and a wall of shadow stopped the blade. Cora recoiled.

"She’s warded," Voss said. "The crystal is feeding her."

Lucian moved.

He didn’t go for Lillith. He went for the crystal. His blade struck the dark surface. The impact sent shockwaves through the room. The pendant flickered. Lillith staggered.

"Stop him!"

Voss engaged Lillith—silver hand against shadow magic. Cora circled, looking for an opening. Lucian struck the crystal again. Cracks formed.

The pendant pulsed. Once. Twice.

Then it went dark.

Lillith screamed.

The crystal shattered.

And the pendant fell to the floor.