A level three should do it, especially with the Blood Moon power, Riona thought.
The Fallen One recoiled. "Level three? You’ve never attempted it before. Don’t! You’re gambling with your life for sothing that isn’t even certain!"
Riona bit her lower lip, frustration simring beneath her skin. She turned to the empty air and shouted, "Then tell —do you have a better plan? The world is hanging by a thread. My brother is hanging by a thread! And you expect to sit still and do nothing?"
While the Fallen One scrambled for an answer, the demon was already on the move. Its thick hands tore through the air like claws through silk, seizing Riona before she could react. Ol’gaz had grown tired of gas. It knew exactly what Riona was thinking—she was desperate enough to end this, even if it ant sacrificing herself.
That cannot happen, Ol’gaz thought.
Slimy drool stretched in thick strands from between its gnashing teeth as it hoisted her into the air. Its jaws unhinged with a grotesque snap, ready to drop her straight into its waiting maw.
Never before in demonic history had one fed on a Blood Moon child. But there was a first ti for everything, and Ol’gaz would gladly be the one to set the precedent.
The thought thrilled it. The power such a child held... imasurable.
It had once entertained the idea of devouring the emperor. When his usefulness in the cooperation ran dry, it considered feasting him—Emperor Kaan, the vampire whose strength had impressed even a demon like Ol’gaz. But now, with Riona in its grasp, Kaan was a re flicker of interest.
This girl, this vessel of true Blood Moon power, overshadowed other feed alternatives.
Ol’gaz was too lost in its twisted fantasy to notice sothing was wrong.
Riona wasn’t resisting. She hung limp in its grasp, unmoving. There was no struggle, no scream—only silence. The demon, caught up in its thoughts, failed to question why its prey had suddenly gone still.
But Riona knew that she had nothing left. No more strength to fight. No more ti. All that remained was her final choice—the last sliver of control she still possessed. And she had made it.
This was the only way forward. The only solution that remained. She knew what this decision ant. She knew it would cost her life, but she was ready.
Closing her eyes, she summoned every last fragnt of energy left in her battered body—both the cold, sharp edge of her vampire blood and the wild, searing heat of the werewolf within. They surged together, winding through her veins, racing toward a single point: her heart.
There, at the center of it all, pulsed the Blood Moon power—strange and ancient, burning like wildfire under her skin. She called to it and felt it respond, prickling and alive. It converged with the rest, drawn into the core of her being.
The Fallen One scread, hands reaching out to her as if he could stop her, even though he knew he couldn’t. "NO!!!"
But his voice was distant, fading. She wouldn’t listen.
Thank you, Riona whispered in her thoughts. Please take care of my brother. And if you can... tell Thorin I’m sorry. Tell them I love them.
And then—it happened. Another explosion. Blinding and absolute.
Light swallowed everything, sharp and searing, burning through shadow and flesh alike. And then, silence. Total. Utter. Silence.
***
Florian felt his skull split in two.
He clutched at his hair, groaning through clenched teeth, thrashing against the floor. His feet pounded. His fists slamd down. He banged his head against the iron bars, desperate for anything to dull the agony.
Thousands of voices scread in his mind, crashing over each other in a deafening tide. Sharp. Piercing. Relentless.
"Florian!"
"FLORIANNN!!!!"
"Flo, where are you?"
"Is that you?"
"Don’t worry! I’m coming for you!"
"I’m sorry, brother."
And then, Riona’s voice broke through.
Not just in his ears, but everywhere. It echoed through the vast, empty space of his consciousness, filling every corner like thunder trapped in a cave. Her voice carried weight. Grief. Love. Resolve. And it overwheld him.
Florian writhed on the floor, trying to shut it all out, to shut her out—not because he hated hearing her, but because it was too much. All of it was too much.
The emotions behind her voice hit him like a wave: pain, hope, sorrow, goodbye. Every word felt like it was being scread directly into his soul.
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks as he smacked his ears, trying to make the pain stop, trying to breathe, trying not to drown in the flood of everything that had crashed into him at once.
Riona’s words—her voice—they had never vanished. They had been blocked. Suppressed behind so ntal wall. And now, with that wall shattered, every ssage she’d ever sent—every whisper, every cry—poured into him all at once.
From the mont he had first been trapped in this cage to the very last word she had spoken, he heard it all.
Panting, wailing in raw agony, Florian pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to hold himself together. He crawled toward the bars, clawing forward. "RIONA!" he scread, his voice cracking with desperation.
He expected an answer.
The wall between them was gone. He felt it. So why couldn’t he hear her now?
Then a flash: the image of Riona trying to kill herself surged to the front of his mind. Panic overtook him. What if she hadn’t listened? What if she had gone through with it? What if that was why the block shattered?
The thought tore through him like a blade. But he couldn’t let himself spiral. His only focus had to be finding her, making sure she was alive. Safe.
He gripped the bars and shook them with all his strength. Maybe escape wasn’t physical. Maybe this cage was never real. What if he had created it himself—his own subconscious prison, born of fear, doubt, guilt?
"RIONA!!!"
He kicked the bars. He unsheathed his claws and slashed at them. But here, in the world of the mind, brute strength ant nothing. The tal didn’t bend. His claws left no mark.
He froze, realization crashing down on him. This cage was his own creation. A manifestation of his ntal weakness. His belief that he deserved to be confined.
Exhausted, he sank to the center of the tiny cell, his breaths ragged, eyes unfocused, lost in thought.
He had never feared death. Ever since the demon first whispered the truth to him, he’d known what he was: a vessel, forged in secrecy, created only to contain sothing monstrous. His life had always been a countdown. He’d made peace with it.
But now, none of that mattered. Not the demon. Not his fate. Not his death. All that mattered was her.
Riona.
He had to find her. Apologize. Hold her one more ti. Tell her that now, it was his turn to protect her.
And then the darkness parted. Sothing appeared, lying motionless on an invisible floor. Florian’s eyes widened. He knew that figure imdiately.
"RIONA!!" he cried out.
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