By the time the sun rose over the capital, the mist had thickened into a visible haze, clinging to the palace grounds and curling around stone pillars like smoke with weight. It filled the courtyards, crept through corridors, and pressed against every sealed door. The curse had spread.
It began with whispers. Servants claimed to hear loved ones calling from empty halls. Guards drew weapons on each other, insisting their comrades were impostors. Then the screaming started.
Three bodies rose from the crypts. Sacrificed witnesses, left behind to anchor the relic's corruption. Their skin was gray, their eyes black. Wherever they went, they infected. One bite. One scratch. That was enough.
The war chamber shook with incoming reports. Bells rang from every direction. Seraphina stood over the war map with Caelan and Thalion. The pulsing lines had spread across the palace outline, now a lattice of corruption.
"It's not just madness anymore," Caelan said. "It's a plague."
"A magical one," Thalion added. "Triggered by the relic. Perfectly timed."
Seraphina looked at both of them. "Then we sever it. Now."
Three points of origin. Three cursed undead. Three sectors. Thalion took the north. Caelan moved east. Seraphina went west.
Infection had bloomed like fire. Halls screamed with noise. Walls cracked from uncontrolled magic. Blood streaked the once-glossy floors. The infected fought with pure rage, faces distorted, voices filled with curses and shattered memories.
Seraphina entered a ballroom, the crystal chandeliers swaying overhead. Corpses turned at her entrance. She drew her sword and summoned fire. Each strike incinerated, cleansing rot from flesh. Flames trailed behind her as she advanced, burning everything tainted.
A side door burst open. Thalion stepped in, panting. "You're late," she said, eyes scanning the room.
"I had to make an entrance," he said, cutting down a ghoul.
He slammed his palm to the floor. Vines burst upward, locking several infected in place. The stone cracked and pulled apart, dragging the rest into the void. She moved with him, fire curling around his roots. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. Each strike was anticipated. Each motion aligned.
Their hands brushed. A spark climbed her arm.
"You feel that?" she asked.
"Every time," he said.
The eastern wing shook. Caelan moved like a blade through wind. His magic lifted enemies and slammed them into columns. His sword flashed green, silent and fast.
He saw them, Thalion and Seraphina. Fire and earth moving in rhythm. He didn't stop. But the sight stayed with him.
He reached the vault. The second cursed witness stood amid bodies. Caelan struck from behind, clean and decisive. Wind sliced through the creature's limbs. It staggered but didn't fall.
He circled, calculating. His next strike removed its head.
More infected crawled from shadowed corners. He didn't pause. Each movement was calculated, each kill efficient. His breathing barely shifted.
Down the hallway, two guards tried to help. One was bitten. Caelan saw it and gave the order: "Isolate him. Now."
They hesitated. He didn't.
Wind hit the infected man square in the chest, slamming him into the far wall. His body went limp.
He turned to the other guard. "Drag him to quarantine. Don't argue."
The palace groaned above. Chunks of ceiling dropped from cracks where the mist thickened. Magic was pulling at the stone.
Seraphina and Thalion reached the atrium. Burnt garden hedges crumbled underfoot. Vines hung from archways, scorched by fire and stained with blood. The final undead was waiting.
Amara's voice crackled through a rune. "West quarter clear. No reinfection."
Celia added, "South ramparts holding. Crowd is calm."
Mairen and Lyria were still guarding the civilians. Maren reinforced the warded rooms. The palace still held. Barely.
The undead launched from the shadows. Thalion pinned its legs. Seraphina lit it up. But it kept coming.
"This one's worse," she said.
"It's learning like the first," Thalion growled.
Then Caelan arrived. The creature lunged. He caught it mid-air and flung it back with a blast of compressed wind. "Miss me?"
They fought together. Thalion's roots bound its limbs. Seraphina's fire burned into its chest. Caelan's wind peeled back its flesh.
It shrieked, flailing. Voices poured from its throat, dozens at once. It lunged again. Seraphina slammed it back with her blade. Thalion cracked the ground. Caelan drove wind down its spine.
Still, it moved. It threw them off rhythm. A strike nearly caught Thalion across the chest. Seraphina blocked it just in time. Caelan responded with a full wind burst that shattered the far wall.
The creature twisted its body, taking Thalion to the ground. He grunted, pinned by clawed hands. Seraphina's fire scorched its back. It screeched but didn't release him.
Caelan landed on its shoulders, plunging his sword through its neck. The undead staggered. Thalion surged upward, vines bursting from the ground. Seraphina called her flame higher, her blade igniting fully. Together, they struck.
The body ruptured from within. A final shriek echoed through the palace.
They stood in the quiet.
The mist began to fade. The infected collapsed. The palace stopped screaming.
Seraphina lowered her sword. Her hand still tingled.
"Did we get it?" Thalion asked.
She looked around. "For now."
Caelan's breath slowed. He glanced at them. Her hand rested on Thalion's shoulder.
He turned away.
They regrouped in the war chamber. Reports filtered in. Amara confirmed the west wing was sealed. Celia's crew cleared the southern tower. Mairen and Lyria sent word that the quarantined were stable. Maren confirmed the wards held.
Still, no one looked relieved.
"How long until the relic tries again?" Caelan asked.
No one answered.
Seraphina stood at the map, eyes tracing the lines that still pulsed faintly.
Far beneath the palace, the relic pulsed.
Still hidden.
Still alive.