CHAPTER 49: THE HANGING ONES (2)

"Did you hear that shriek?" Fizzwigg panted as they ran through the tunnel. "Shit...I forgot to tell him. He should’ve slit its throat the moment he had the chance."

He was in front, Grief close behind, carrying Yennefer in her arms.

"Cut its throat?" Yennefer said sharply. "Why?"

"That shriek was a signal," Fizzwigg said, his voice tight with worry. "It’s calling out to others. Hanging Ones nearby will come running. If we’re lucky, none are close enough to hear it. If not...."

"Shit... fuck," Yennefer cursed. "How the hell do you forget something that important, Fizzwigg?"

"I don’t know!" he snapped. "I just didn’t think about it, alright?"

Yennefer’s face tightened, but she held her tongue. After a beat she asked, "How much farther to Magodilin?"

Fizzwigg risked a glance ahead, breath ragged. "Six hundred meters. If we move fast, we’ll make it before the others arrive."

But maybe they weren’t going to make it in time after all.

From behind came another shriek, then another, and another. Three, maybe four. The tunnel walls carried the sound, amplifying it until it rattled in their chests.

"They’ve found us!" Fizzwigg shouted, his stubby legs pumping faster than seemed possible for his size. "They know exactly where we are!"

"Can we outrun them?" Yennefer asked, her voice sharp.

"It’s pointless, we can’t outrun a Hanging One," Fizzwigg wheezed.

"Then why the hell are we still running?" Yennefer snapped.

"Because I’d rather die moving than stand still waiting for them to drain me!" he barked.

Grief suddenly skidded to a halt, dust spraying at her feet. She set Anna Mary down gently behind her. "Then run if you wish," she said, her hand tightening around her blade. Her calm voice cut through the panic like steel. "I will protect Anna Mary. None of them will pass me."

Yennefer froze, torn, while Fizzwigg kept bolting ahead into the dark without looking back.

"Well, if you’re staying, then I’m staying too," Yennefer said, ignoring the sound of Fizzwigg’s footsteps fading into the dark.

She was calculating. Between a panicked gnome and a soul servant forged in blood, the choice wasn’t difficult. Grief had beaten her once in the Alley, effortlessly. Yennefer still remembered the humiliation, the sting of those chains snapping like twigs. Stronger than her, second only to Stephan, and already pressing against the threshold of a D-rank.

"I can rely on her," Yennefer thought. "Let her do all the fighting."

"Lord Stephan will get here soon," Grief said with quiet certainty. "I’ll hold them until he arrives."

She eased Anna Mary down, resting the pale girl gently against the tunnel wall. Her expression softened for a heartbeat.

"Can you look after her for me?" Grief asked without looking away from the dark ahead.

Yennefer gave a curt nod.

Grief straightened, her grip tightening around her spectral blade until the faint glow of soul-light shimmered along its edge.

Then, from the black throat of the tunnel, the first pair of Sanguivores came crawling into view. Their wings scraped the stone, claws sparking against the walls.

A third followed, larger than the others, its movements heavier. When it stepped fully into the torch’s dying glow, it loomed taller than any Orc. Its chest was a ridged cage of bone and sinew, its batlike face twisted in hunger. The Alpha.

The tunnel reeked of rot and iron as it hissed, the sound thick and guttural, promising blood.

The Alpha did not rush. It hovered back in the dark, wings flexing, its eyes fixed on them like lanterns of hunger.

The other two moved first. They circled above, leathery wings scraping the ceiling as they spiraled tighter and tighter. Their shrieks echoed through the tunnel like blades dragging on stone.

Yennefer’s grimoire materialized in her hands, its chains rattling as spectral light shimmered across its cover. She stood behind Grief, heart pounding, ready to shield Anna Mary if she had to.

Grief’s eyes ignited with cold, spectral blue. She lowered into a stance, blade angled toward the ceiling, her expression calm.

The first Sanguivore dove.

Steel met claw. Sparks and soul-light burst as Grief deflected its strike, shoving the beast back before it could reach Anna Mary. The second swooped low immediately after, slashing with talons, but Grief spun her blade in a wide arc, keeping them both at bay.

At first, she was steady. Every step precise, every slash a barrier that forced the creatures back.

But the Sanguivores pressed harder. Their wings beat furiously, their shrieks deafening as they dove again and again, testing her guard, striking faster, hungrier.

Then one of them changed tactics.

It folded its wings, dropped like a falling axe, and before Grief could pivot, its jaws clamped down on her left arm. With a sickening crunch, it ripped the limb clean off, soaring upward with its prize clenched between its teeth.

Yennefer’s scream caught in her throat. The tunnel filled with the sound of wet tearing flesh.

But the Sanguivore faltered. Its eyes widened. It shook the arm, gnawed at it, then spat it out with a furious hiss. No blood. Only pale, spectral essence leaking like smoke.

Grief turned, her one arm still holding the glowing blade steady. Her blue eyes burned brighter, cold and unyielding.

"I am not so easy to drain," she said.

From the ragged stump where her arm had been torn away, a torrent of spectral blue soul-energy erupted like a fountain of light. It hissed and crackled, spilling threads of power that twisted together, weaving bone, sinew, and flesh from pure essence.

In seconds, a new hand formed, sleek, flawless, glowing faintly with the aura of the dead.

Yennefer’s eyes widened. "What...? She can regenerate too?"

Grief flexed her fingers, the joints snapping into place with a cold, metallic sound. Then she twirled her sword between her hands in a perfect flourish.

"Good as new," she said, her voice calm as ice.

Her gaze lifted, spectral eyes burning. She raised the blade and leveled it at the Sanguivore that had stolen her arm.

"I will hereby execute you in the name of his lordship..." she intoned, her voice ringing through the tunnel. "...His Grace, Lord Stephan."

The Sanguivore hissed, its blood-stained maw curling back. But instead of charging her, its instincts betrayed it. It smelled warm flesh, Yennefer’s heartbeat, Anna Mary’s weakened body. That was the blood it wanted.

With a feral shriek, it launched forward, wings snapping, claws aimed straight for Yennefer.

But Grief was already moving.

She blurred across the tunnel, spectral light trailing in her wake, and intercepted the beast mid-lunge. Steel and soul-energy collided with flesh and claw, sparks and ghost-flame bursting in the dark.

Grief inhaled deeply, her chest rising as if she were drawing the very darkness into herself. Then, with deliberate grace, she lifted her blade.

Azure soul-flame hissed to life along the steel, not burning but flowing, liquid fire that slithered in serpentine coils. The flame writhed and spun, alive, wrapping the sword until it seemed less a weapon and more an extension of her will.

Then it broke free.

The spectral fire unraveled, twisting outward, shaping itself into a jagged whip of pale blue light. It crackled, shrieking like chained spirits, as though eager to taste flesh.

Grief’s lips curled into a cold smile. With a flick of her wrist, the whip lashed forward, a streak of spectral flame tearing through the air.

It struck the Sanguivore mid-lunge, wrapping its torso in burning coils. The creature shrieked, its leathery wings flailing wildly as the soul-fire ate through its flesh.

"Whip Lash," Grief murmured with a chuckle, watching as the monster convulsed and crumbled, its body dissolving in the blue inferno.

The tunnel reeked of scorched blood. Yennefer could only stare, pale and breathless, as the beast’s death-cry faded into the dark.

"Stephan used that move against the Orc too," Yennefer muttered under her breath, her eyes flicking from the fading ash of the burning corpse to Grief’s spectral blade. Could it be... he can wield the techniques of his soul servant?

Grief stiffened. A tremor in the air, heavy, crushing, warned her before sound or sight. She spun, blade raised just in time to meet a set of massive talons descending like guillotines.

Steel met claw.

Sparks of spectral fire flared as the tunnel shook with the impact. The Alpha Sanguivore loomed above her, grotesque wings unfurled, its bat-like head dripping with saliva that sizzled when it struck the stone.

Grief’s eyes widened as her boots skidded backward across the dirt. The beast’s raw strength dwarfed hers, every shove a tidal wave pressing her closer to the wall. Her jaw clenched.

So this is the Alpha’s power.

Then movement, sharp, sudden, at the corner of her eye.

The second Sanguivore had seized its chance, darting like a shadow. It wasn’t aiming for her. It was bypassing her completely, slipping past the clash of titans.

Its talons stretched toward Anna Mary, helpless and pale against the tunnel wall.

And Yennefer, distracted, spell half-formed, gaze locked on Grief’s struggle, hadn’t seen it coming.

The creature’s hiss echoed like a blade slicing through silence as it closed the last meters in a heartbeat.