The blood-sworn blade drank deep as Kalen ripped it from the sorcerer’s throat. The man’s body crumpled, black ichor hissing against the stone floor. The dagger in Kalen’s other hand burned cold; the sorcerer’s spell was already unraveling.
The temple shuddered. Chains of molten gold slithered along the floor, writhing toward the altar where Seris was bound. Kalen lunged, slicing through the cursed bindings before they coiled tighter. The priestess gasped, eyes glassy from the magic leeching her strength.
Behind them, a guttural snarl echoed. The sorcerer’s essence had not died alone. Shadows rose, taking the form of something vast and clawed.
Kalen pulled Seris to her feet. “Run.”
As she staggered toward the temple doors, Kalen turned to face the beast. The blood-sworn blade pulsed. His work was not yet finished.
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