The cave plunged into pitch darkness. A scream pierced the air—a blood-curdling shriek that only an animal could produce, something that shouldn't emerge from a human throat. Such sounds assaulted Arthur's ears as he struggled against his bonds.
Heavy chains held him fast, preventing any escape. Mary lay beside him, also bound, yet somehow still asleep. Arthur's heart pounded as he scanned the darkness, but his eyes found nothing except an endless void. His seven-year-old body lacked the strength to break the chains, and worse, the metal suppressed his magic. He was trapped, helpless, unable to fight back or flee. Fear crept up his spine like ice water.
When the darkness finally subsided, a creature torn from pure nightmares emerged before him. It towered at a staggering ten feet tall, its presence filling the cave with dread. Blood dripped from a blade—not a blade it held, but one that *was* its arm. Where a hand should have connected to a wrist, whether beast or human, this monstrosity bore only a gleaming edge, slick with fresh crimson. The remote control the man had once clutched lay scattered on the ground, broken in half.
The beast possessed two blood-red eyes that burned with malevolent hunger. Its silhouette was darker than the surrounding blackness, as if it absorbed light itself. Without warning, it surged forward and burst through the cave wall, its blade-arm slashing through solid stone as though it were parchment.
Light exploded into the cave—sunlight, not artificial illumination, but genuine daylight. The sudden brightness seared Arthur's eyes.
Mary stirred, waking from the brilliant rays that spilled into their dark prison. She blinked rapidly, disoriented and confused. Her gaze swept the cave until she spotted her son, locked in chains beside her.
"What happened?" Her voice trembled with rising panic. "Where am I?"
"Don't move," Arthur warned, his young voice steady despite his terror. "You can't use your magic. The chains are suppressants. I don't know if you're strong enough to break them, but you should try."
Mary pulled against the chains with all her strength, muscles straining, but they didn't budge even a fraction. Her breath came in short gasps.
A dark figure flashed through the chamber, then vanished outside. It returned moments later, moving with impossible speed. The creature paused in the center of the cave, its crimson eyes boring into both of them. Arthur felt his mother's body tense beside him.
The beast raised its bladed arm high. Its red eyes gleamed with predatory intent in the dim light. Then it rushed forward with supernatural velocity, planning to cut down both Arthur and Mary in one devastating strike.
The blade descended.
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the end.
Metal shrieked against metal—but not flesh. Not bone.
He opened his eyes to find a woman standing between them and death, her massive greatsword locked against the creature's blade-arm. Dark hair cascaded down to her waist, whipping around her like living shadows. She held the beast's strike with impossible strength, her boots carving trenches in the stone floor.
"Did you think I wouldn't find you?" the woman said, her voice cutting through the tension.
The beast snarled and disengaged, circling her with predatory grace. Its red eyes tracked her every movement.
"I've been hunting you for months," she continued, adjusting her grip on the greatsword. "You made a mistake coming here."
The creature lunged without warning, its blade-arm whistling through the air. The woman parried, sparks erupting from the collision. They exchanged blows at blinding speed—slash, parry, dodge, counter. The cave shook with each impact.
Arthur watched, transfixed, as the woman drove the beast back step by step. Hope flickered in his chest. She was winning. She would save them.
Then the creature feinted left and struck right.
Its blade caught the woman across the ribs. Blood sprayed across the cave floor. She stumbled, gasping, and dropped to one knee. Her greatsword wavered.
"No!" Mary screamed.
The beast loomed over the wounded woman, raising its blade-arm for the killing blow. Its crimson eyes blazed with triumph.
The woman looked up—not at the creature, but directly at Arthur. Her eyes held a desperate urgency, a silent message he couldn't decipher.
She mouthed a single word.
Then the blade fell.