"You told us your weapon was that sword!" The pyromancer cries, his voice laced with the smallest hint of confusion.

  "You still believe that?" With one fell swoop on Gabriel's part, the man's brain finds itself splayed across a nearby wall. His lifeless body slumping to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  "Oh, that old thing?" Gabriel says nonchalantly, looking to the empty scabbard at his hip. He tosses it to the ground with disdain. "It's just for show, for when you lessers can't mind your own business."

  Gabriel's words, laced with scorn, ignite the fury within the remaining Stygians. They attack en masse, driven by their rage and an age old hatred. Gabriel's heart pounds in his chest, but he refuses to let fear take hold. Instead, he grounds himself with his strength.

  As his assailants close in on him, Gabriel dodges and weaves through their ranks, his movements fluid and methodical despite his size.

  Gabriel had never fought human opponents before, but he recalled every lesson, every bloody training session, and every lecture that Ethel had painstakingly ingrained into him. How many nights had he stayed in endless combat against the undead of Wraithwood-Hollow? Ethel called this a combination of endurance and strength training. And it worked. Gabriel had honed his skills to a razor's edge.

  A spike of ice materializes from beneath Gabriel, conjured by one of the magic-wielding Stygians. Gabriel hurls himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack.

  As the icy chill slingshots past him, he can't help but think of his brother. Was Elias in a fight of his right now, or was this an isolated incident? Why would they only target him though? He needed more information, and he didn’t have time to waste here.

  "I’m in a hurry, so I’ll be introducing you all to Lord Death now," he says, glaring at the enemies before him. In such a battle, what would Ethel have done? Gabriel’s body is already moving as he remembers her words. "If you find yourself surrounded, aim for the enemy's backline first. There’s a reason they’re hiding in the back, it’s because…"

  Gabriel is already upon a handful of magic casters, raising Grave-Breaker high above. He swings the weapon through the air as he bludgeons them all to death in a brutal flurry of blows. The remaining Stygians stare on in horror, completely taken aback by Gabriel's raw physical prowess.

  "They’re no good in close quarters combat…"

  "He isn’t using magic, use that to your advantage!" One of them with the mask of a badger cries out desperately, a pathetic attempt to rally their ranks.

  "If your enemy begins to falter, someone will likely step up to try and take command of the situation; make an example of them… kill that one on sight."

  Gabriel forces his way past four more Stygian’s with sheer strength. Toppling them as he reaches the badger. Gabriel grabs the man by the jaw and then hurls his head into the ground with bone-shattering force. The man tries to stand, but Gabriel beats him down with Grave-Breaker before he has the chance.

  "So what?" Gabriel spits, his voice cold as ice. "I don't need magic to deal with Stygian scum." He knew his words rang true, for the love he bore for his clan fueled him like no spell ever could. With brute force and unrelenting resolve, Gabriel fights his way through the remaining Stygians.

  Gabriel stands among the carnage. The air is thick with the coppery scent of blood and everything is silent now. His body aches from the relentless onslaught of Stygians he had just faced. He received many wounds, but none of them were life threatening.

  Gabriel’s eyes fall upon the only Stygian left, a young boy who’s curled up in a corner. He can’t be older than ten, so why? Why was he already affiliated with a shadow syndicate like the Conclave? Gabriel can feel the child's fear as his own, but he couldn’t falter now.

  "The only good Stygian is a dead Stygian, be sure to remember this, Gabriel."

  With Grave-Breaker in hand, Gabriel holds the bloodied mace just inches from the boy's tearful face as pleas for mercy fill the hallway.

  "Please, please! I don’t want to die!" The boy sobs, his face streaked with tears and blood. Without a mask of his own, it was clear this child was nothing more than a low-ranking member.

  A pang of guilt fills Gabriel’s soul. He shouldn’t care, but the boy is still so young, he can’t be older than ten at the most. He also looks just like his little cousin, Marcus. He even sounds like Marcus in a strange way.

  "I understand you’re a new member of the Conclave by the fact that you don't have your own mask yet. Just tell me what I want to hear, and I won't kill you like the rest. What is your mission, and how many members are in the manor currently?

  Desperation claws at the boy's features as he tries to answer between heavy sobs. But his words are garbled, his fear rendering him incapable of basic speech anymore. Gabriel sighs, torn between frustration and sympathy for the pathetic creature before him.

  "Listen, I’m not going to hurt you, just… Come with me for now. If you try to run, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?"

  The boy nods aggressively, and rises to his feet, following behind Gabriel now as they make their way to the second floor. That’s when Gabriel witnesses a door blow off its very hinges, a pillar of ice propelling a figure out of the room. At the far end of the hall, at least a hundred meters away, is Elias. Following behind is a Stygian with what Gabriel can only make out to be a thrusting weapon. Each attack she makes on Elias is just barely deflected as he takes another step back. Even if they did manage to land, they should have been shallow, but Gabriel watches in horror as three explosions go off, and Elias’s blood coats the end of the hallway.

  Elias takes a step back, and turns down the opposite hallway, heading toward the West wing.

  Gabriel is about to give chase, but a small hand grabs a hold of his sleeve. Gabriel looks back to the Stygian, prepared to beat him down and run, but he doesn’t. As Gabriel turns to face the young Stygian, it’s almost like he’s seeing two of him. One boy, and one spirit, their forms overlapping each other.

  One hand has a hold of his sleeve, and the other is grabbing his own wrist. One eye has tears running from it freely, whereas the other has a cold, predatory gaze within its depths. Half his face is animated with pain, and the other half slumps. It’s like he’s having a stroke.

  "Crawled... inside... wearing... me…" A breathy voice can be heard, as if it’s fighting to be heard.

  "There is one enemy you must never fight."

  Gabriel takes a knee, and reaches a hand out, wiping the blood away from the boy's face. Right beneath his right eye is a small mole. It’s in the same spot as his little cousins.

  "The third amongst their ranks is never seen with a mask, because she wears them like a second-skin."

  "Marcus?..."

  The sound of a grandfather clock can be heard in the distance, and it reverberates through the air, signaling the beginning of the Solstice of Souls. The haunting sound is followed by a cacophony of screams and cries, sending a shiver down Gabriel's spine. His gaze snaps away from the boy just for a moment as he looks down the stairs he had come from.

  The split-second distraction is nearly fatal. A sharp pain lances through Gabriel's side, forcing a silent gasp to escape his lips. Gabriel swings instinctively at the source of the pain, his weapon colliding with whatever it was that was wearing Marcus’s skin, and it falls to the ground in a puddle of its own blood.

  From the corpse, a spirit claws its way free, crying and screaming all the while. Gabriel opens an arm as the spirit collides with him, and he hugs Marcus.

  "Marcus, I didn’t mean to, I-"

  "It doesn’t stay dead! Hit it again!"

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Gabriel looks back to where Marcus’s corpse had just been, and there is no sign of it, other than the pool of blood it left behind. Marcus’s spirit is all that remains, and it shivers against Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel spins wildly, searching for any sign of the enemy, but ultimately he fails.

  Gabriel wants nothing more than to go after Elias, but the screams echoing from the grand hall are more pressing now. Gabriel makes his way to the stairs, and upon descending one step, he finds himself tumbling all the way to the bottom. The world is spinning, and everything sounds muffled.

  "You have to get up! Everyone needs your help."

  Gabriel knows that Marcus is right, and he forces himself to stand.

  "Marcus, how long can you last like this?"

  "I don’t know, it hurts a lot, and I feel like I’m… fading? I don’t know, everything's really fuzzy."

  "Just hold on. We’ll get you to your brother and he can fix you right up. You can do that for me, right? If you get tired then go ahead and rest inside of me. It isn’t stable, but my mana should be able to fuel your existence for some time."

  "Yeah, I think I am a little sleepy…"

  As Marcus says this, he seemingly fades into Gabriel’s chest, and disappears from sight for now.

  With each step, the pain in Gabriel's side grows more intense. He grits his teeth as he makes his way down the long hallways, trying to ignore the throbbing torment that threatens to overtake him. His breaths are labored, and sweat runs down his face freely. Just like Marcus, he had to hold on. He couldn’t stop now, not when he could hear those damned screams.

  As they round the corner, Gabriel collapses to one knee, his hand clutching at his wound. The searing pain is nearly unbearable now, and when he touches it, he feels what he can only place as running water?... He looks down to see a steady stream of blood flowing from the wound. Turning, Gabriel sees that he left a steady trail of blood in his wake.

  "Is that all mine?..." he says, shoving a loose piece of his shirt into the wound to try and plug it shut. "Just gotta hold on and get to the grand hall…"

  When they reach the next long hallway, Gabriel sees another dozen Stygian’s laying amongst the floor. In their midst is a young woman with long, blonde hair, laying face first on the ground.. For a brief moment, hope glares in Gabriel’s heart as he calls out to her, "Clara?... Clara!? Is that you?!"

  Gabriel runs to the best of his ability, and drops to his knees next to the girl. As he turns her onto her side, he recognizes her right away. Long, straight, golden hair cascades down her back, far too straight to be Clara’s. Despite being a Crowsong, her clothing is far too light, but it’s difficult to tell since it’s stained red, and dark. Her bangs stop just before covering her eyes, and she clutches a white grimoire to her chest. Iris Crowsong. A crossbow bolt is protruding from her abdomen, and she lets out a groan, her face contorted with pain.

  Her presence explained the Stygian’s stillness and the lack of blood on their part. Iris had the ability to move souls for a short time. She must have come under attack, and then retaliated in kind.

  Gabriel hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts of survival. In the state of an emergency, the highest ranking members should be saved first. He considered Iris's place in the family hierarchy: not a true member of the family, adopted, and only a member of the Shadow Requiem. Her attack prowess was low, her main skill being the manipulation of souls.

  As if sensing his uncertainty, Iris clings to his sleeve tears streaming down her face. It was then that Gabriel remembered the deciding factor. Above all else, he made a promise to her long ago to keep her safe. The grand hall would have to wait for now.

  "Hold on," Gabriel says, wrapping his arms around her. He is especially careful as to not jostle the bolt embedded in her flesh. With a swift motion, he breaks it off. Stifling a gasp at the fresh wave of pain it brings, Iris leans heavily against Gabriel, and together, they struggle to their feet.

  "Thank you," she manages between sobs. "I… I was so scared."

  "Don't worry," Gabriel whispers, his voice firm with resolve. "You’re going to be just fine. But why are you here?"

  "Something felt off! When I saw you and Nathaniel leave, I-I got scared, and tried to follow you, but when I got here, I..."

  "Hey, it's okay now," Gabriel reassures her once more, a warm yet weary smile gracing his chiseled features. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, feeling her tremble beneath his touch. Together, they inch down the hallway, and to the nearest door.

  Iris reaches for the door handle, her fingers shaking as she tries to turn it. "I-It's locked!" she stammers, panic evident in her eyes.

  With a grunt of determination, Gabriel swings Grave-Breaker down, smashing the doorknob clean off. The door flies open under the force of his kick. Inside, is a single window, an escape route.

  Wincing from his own injuries, Gabriel scoops Iris into his arms. Carefully, he lowers her out of the window, gripping her tightly until she lands safely on the ground below.

  "You remember when we were little and you followed Nathaniel and I out into the woods?"

  "Huh? Y-Yeah you guys were upset that I found your ‘secret’ hiding spot," Iris says, letting out a small chuckle at the memory. "You two wouldn’t talk to me for like… days because of it."

  "Good, you do remember. Head there and wait for Nathaniel. If I’m not there in an hour, then you two are to leave without me."

  "Wait, a-aren't you coming with me?"

  "I can't," he replies, grimacing as he clutches his side. "There's still others in the grand hall, they need my help." The screams that had haunted the air had already fallen silent, leaving Gabriel to only assume the worst.

  "But I-I can't make it on my own, I can’t do this on my own."

  "You won’t be alone. Marcus, come out…"

  "Marcus?... No, no, no, no, you don’t mean…"

  Gabriel holds a hand out the window, and a small light leaves his palm. Iris hesitantly holds her hands up to catch the small light in her own, and the visage of Marcus appears as he wraps his arms around Iris’ neck. She hugs him back, her eyes filling to the brim with tears.

  "Gods, please no, why?... What am I supposed to tell Nathaniel? When he sees this, he… he can’t go through this again."

  "He’s going to have to. Marcus, look after Iris for now. I’m counting on you. I’ll join you two as soon as I can. Iris, be strong, for him.

  With that, Gabriel turns back towards the hall, pain searing through his body with every step.

  The unconscious bodies of the Stygians who had attacked Iris lay sprawled out across the floor. Their souls, no longer bound by her power, begin to find their way back into their mortal shells, each gasping and twitching as consciousness is restored.

  "The only good Stygian is a dead Stygian"

  "I understand, Ethel. Thank you for imparting your wisdom onto someone like me.

  Gabriel advances upon the assassins, his eyes burning with righteous wrath. As they try to regain their bearings, he swings his weapon with deadly precision, shattering skulls and crushing bones beneath its merciless weight. Each strike carries with it the weight of his anger.

  As the last of the Stygians fall, Gabriel's gaze sweeps across the carnage strewn about him. Though the satisfaction of avenging Iris' pain should have swelled within his chest, he instead felt only an oppressive emptiness.

  "Is this what it means to protect?" he wondered, "How many more times do I need to do this?" Gabriel hadn’t taken a life until tonight. Even these assassins must have had a family too, right?

  "Do not feel remorse for the dead. Instead, prioritize those who are still alive."

  Shaking the thoughts aside, Gabriel forces himself to focus on the task at hand. He could not afford to be consumed by guilt now, not when that deafening silence filled the house now. With weary steps, he presses onward, determined to reach the grand hall.

  "Please, let me get there in time," he prays under his breath as he limps forward.

  Gabriel counts his steps in an attempt to distract himself from the searing pain. He turns another corner to see someone he recognizes, a survivor.

  A young man is propped against the wall, and Gabriel recognizes him immediately. Jameson. It seems as though he had tried to escape the grand hall but didn’t make it very far.

  "Jameson, hey, wakeup! I’m here now."

  As Gabriel kneels next to the boy, he places a hand on his shoulder, but Jameson slumps over on his side. Gabriel grabs hold of him, propping him back up once more. That’s when Gabriel feels the bloodstained ground beneath him. His own blood pools out, joining the growing puddle now. Just behind Jameson’s tie, embedded in the center of his chest is the hilt of a dagger.

  "Jameson? Hey, this isn’t funny… You need to open your eyes now!" Gabriel calls out to Jameson, hoping, and praying for a response. Thankfully, Jameson hears him. The younger boy's eyes flicker open, a glassy look in them as they meet Gabriel’s frantic gaze.

  He says something intangible, a smile crossing his lips, but Gabriel can’t hear him. Then Jameson’s head slumps forward, and his eyes close one last time.

  "What was that? Jameson? Hey, come on! You can’t leave your big cousin hanging like that! Open your eyes again and talk to me! You still need to show me that new spell of yours, don’t you? We’re going to go fight a Wraith together, aren’t we?... Isn’t that right?..." Gabriel’s voice grows quiet as he holds onto the boy.

  Gabriel only now feels the tears cascading down his face as he clings to Jameson's lifeless body. With trembling hands, he removes the dagger, and hopes, and prays to Lord Death that he wouldn’t accept him just yet. That he would allow Jameson to open his eyes once more.

  "Please, he’s still so young…"

  But they do not open.

  "Do not feel remorse for the dead."

  Gabriel learned many things from Ethel, but this is one sentiment that he could never grasp.

  Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Gabriel knows he has no choice but to let go. There might be others that he could still help. Picking Grave-Breaker up, he stands.

  With one last look at Jameson, he presses on towards the grand hall.