They crossed an abandoned bridge and found themselves in the castle's inner courtyard. On the double doors, faces were depicted, mouths opened vertically as if in a scream of mortal agony. The Judge kicked them open. The doors burst open with a crash. One leaf could not withstand the force of the blow and tore from its top hinge, hanging sideways.
The two of them moved down the ash-covered corridor with their swords in hand. Skeletons hung on the walls, pinned with iron rods.
From somewhere high up in the castle, a muffled sound echoed.
They climbed the stone staircase.
Bodies lay across the floor of the great hall. All of them lay face down. At first, the Cursed thought they were all dead. Then he noticed they were breathing, some of them twitching, as if afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere of the dark expanse of the hall.
But they were not the main presence here. The main presence was a dark figure standing motionless at the far end of the hall, on a stone platform. Behind it stood a bloodstained ritual table. Closed eyes. A grim, malevolent face. It stood without moving.
When they entered, the stranger came to life. He seized one of the bodies and drove a long ritual dagger—appearing from nowhere in his hand—into his chest. Blood burst forth. A wave of something unseen swept through the hall. It surged into the minds and bodies of the lying victims, and they screamed and groaned from the pain that filled them.
The Cursed felt the wave strike him and hurl him back against the stone wall. The Judge remained on her feet. More than that. She stepped forward, walking over the bodies.
The figure on the stone platform seized the next victim and drove his sword through him. At the same time, the body was aimed toward the approaching warrior. A wave of pain surged in that direction. The Judge staggered, then recovered and pressed forward.
Meanwhile, the Cursed rose and advanced from the other side.
The Sacrificer grabbed two more people, positioned them between himself and the Judge, and pierced them with his sword. The victims screamed, their cries echoed by those lying on the floor, writhing under waves of pain coursing through them. The Sacrificer twisted his mouth in sync with the pain his victims felt.
The Judge stopped and fell to one knee. The Cursed was closing in from the other side. The stranger saw this, seized two more people, and drove his sword through them. The pain surged in a different direction, striking the Cursed, lifting him into the air, and smashing him onto the floor amid the countless bodies lying on the ground, writhing from the assault of mental and physical injuries.
When the Sacrificer turned, he saw that the Judge was dangerously close. He seized three unfortunate souls—those not yet felled by the pain—and impaled them with his spear. The Judge was thrown back several dozen feet.
The Cursed advanced toward him.
The Sacrificer seized three more people, threw them onto the bloodstained ritual table, and chopped off their heads with a large iron axe. The ritual table was drenched in fresh blood. Then he grabbed four more, beheaded three, and split the fourth in two. A torrent of blood was pouring over the table.
The tyrant cast a glance at his enemies. They lay in the hall, struck down by waves of pain.
Then the Judge rose and limped forward again. She was dangerously close. The Sacrificer teleported to another part of the hall and hurled long iron rods from his hand. They shot into the air, impaled five victims, and pinned them to the stone wall. The victims writhed in pain, dying one by one.
The Cursed and the Judge fell to the floor again. Then they began to rise.
This repeated several times.
Then came the moment when there were no victims left. The tyrant stepped back.
The Judge tilted her head to the side as she advanced toward him, as if asking, "What's the matter? Giving up? We've only just begun the fun." The tyrant retreated a few more steps. His eyes frozen in confusion.
The Judge appeared behind him and wrapped her hands around his neck, preventing him from moving or breathing. The Cursed was approaching.
"The court has sentenced you to death. The sentence is to be carried out immediately," the Judge said, glaring at the tyrant as she held him.
The Cursed struck with his sword, and the Sacrificer's head flew off. The Judge straightened to her full height and looked at the Cursed. Her eyes were green.
Together, they walked out of the emptied castle. The surroundings had changed. White snow covered the mountain, the road, and the forest. Snow was still falling in large flakes.