The trail of corrupted mana was more visible now, like a black thread snaking through the snow. I didn't need Clairvoyance to see it – my eyes hurt just from looking at it. It smelled of sulfur and dried blood.
"That way," said Helena, pointing to a crack in the mountain.
"Let's go."
The horses were tied to a rock, out of sight of the cave entrance. The snow fell harder there, as if the mountain itself wanted to hide the entrance. Luna, pale, held her sword with both hands.
"Stay behind," I ordered.
"No."
"Stay."
"I won't run."
I looked at her. Her clear eyes, where fear and courage mingled, did not waver.
"Then don't get in front."
We entered.
---
The cave was larger than it looked from outside. The ceiling was lost in darkness, the walls glistened with moisture that reflected the light of torches we didn't have. We didn't need torches. The corrupted mana glowed on its own, a black pulse guiding our steps.
"It smells bad," said Luna.
"It's the demon."
"Trussum?"
"Trussum."
The smell of sulfur intensified with every step. The sound of our boots on the stone echoed, multiplied, came back to us distorted.
Helena touched my arm.
"There."
At the back of the cave, sitting on a rock, a figure waited. It wasn't Trussum – at least not the real one. The flesh was shapeless, the blue eyes scattered across the body, but there was something wrong, a stiffness in its movements, a glassy shine in its gaze.
"A puppet," said Helena.
"Stronger than the previous one," I replied. "Trussum wants to test me."
The puppet stood up. The black sword gleamed in the half‑dark.
It attacked.
---
The fight was fast, but brutal.
The puppet was faster than the previous one, stronger, and it never tired. Every strike of mine was blocked; every attack from it forced me back. Blood ran from my shoulder, where one of its thrusts had caught me.
"He doesn't get tired!" shouted Luna, pressed against the wall.
"The dead don't get tired," I replied.
I used Space Cut.
Three hundred mana units. The black rift tore through the air, cut off the puppet's right arm. The creature didn't groan. The limb fell to the ground with a wet thud. But I felt the blow – one fifth of the wound, as Alice had warned. My arm burned. Blood ran from my sleeve.
"Zirinos!" Helena shouted.
"I'm fine," I lied.
The puppet attacked again, now with one arm. Slower, but still dangerous. I dodged the strike, drove my sword into its chest. The creature shuddered, crumbled to ash.
Silence returned.
"Is it dead?" asked Luna.
"It is dead," I replied. "But the real one…"
"Is here," finished a sweet voice from the back of the cave.
Trussum emerged from the shadows.
---
The body was monstrous – not in the grand manner of his brothers, but in the most intimate, most disgusting sense. The flesh was alive, mutilated, with blood dripping from open wounds. Several blue eyes were scattered across his torso, arms, face. Some were closed. Others moved independently, watching us.
"Zirinos," he said, with the sweet, hypnotic voice I remembered from nightmares. "At last."
"At last," I replied, my hand on my sword.
"You thought you had killed me?"
"I thought."
"Heroes are so naive."
Trussum took a step. His body cracked. Blood ran from his legs, forming a dark puddle on the stone.
"Mira," he said. "Little Mira. Do you know where she is?"
"She is in Decatry. With Baron Ander."
"She was." Trussum smiled. His mouth split open, showing yellow teeth. "The baron discovered what you did to his wife. To Lysara."
My heart sped up.
"Liar."
"Liar?" Trussum took another step. His voice was a whisper in my head. "Ander Féris killed Mira with his own hands. He drowned her in the fish pond, where she liked to play. Do you know why? Because you murdered his wife. And he swore revenge."
"Liar!" I shouted.
"Do you want proof? Go to Decatry. Ask the duke. Ask Irina. The child is no longer among the living."
The world stopped.
'Mira. The girl who called me hero. The girl who drew stick figures. The girl who trusted me.
"Zirinos!" Helena's voice cut the silence. "Don't believe him! He lies!"
Trussum attacked.
---
The black sword sliced the air centimetres from my chest. I dodged too late. The edge grazed my tunic, opened a shallow cut on my shoulder.
"The child is dead," Trussum repeated as he attacked. "Your brothers are dead. Your father is dead. Everything you love dies. Everything you touch dies."
"Zirinos, fight!" Helena drew her sword, but Trussum waved her away – a wave of invisible force that threw her against the wall.
"I am the great liar," said Trussum, stopping. "I do not lie. The truth is that I lie. Do you know what that means?"
"That you are a demon."
"That I am the only honest person in this world." He laughed. "Your heroes kill out of duty. Your kings rule out of ambition. Your gods choose on a whim. I lie because I want to. It is the only purity left in me."
He attacked again.
The black blade entered my chest – not deep, but enough to bleed. I fell to my knees. My sword fell to the ground. Blood ran down my tunic, mingling with the snow that had blown in through the cave opening.
"Zirinos!" Luna shouted. "Get up!"
"I can't," I whispered.
"You can."
I looked at her. Her light, moist eyes were fixed on mine.
"Mira is alive," she said. "The messenger told my mother. Baron Ander is taking care of her."
"It's a lie," Trussum whispered.
"It's true," Luna replied. "I heard it."
The truth broke Trussum's power.
The demon hesitated. The blue eyes scattered across his body closed one by one. The mutilated flesh shuddered. The blood stopped flowing.
"No…" he murmured. "It cannot be…"
I stood up.
My sword grew warm in my hand – Helena's technique, the heat of the bones, the flame that was not a flame.
"Clairvoyance," I whispered.
The spell hurt my eyes. The image of Trussum doubled, tripled. I saw his body from within. I saw his heart, pulsing, wrapped in black flowers. Trásserius. The source of his power. The weak point.
"Now," said Helena, pushing herself off the wall.
"Space Cut," I murmured.
The spell tore through the air. Trussum screamed. His chest opened. The black flowers fell to the ground, wilted, crumbled to ash.
"Iridium‑maleriud," I performed the swap.
The world spun. Trussum appeared in my place. I, in his. The warm sword entered his chest like butter.
"Die," I whispered.
The demon looked at me. The blue eyes, the last ones remaining, fixed on mine.
"Thank you," he said, with a sweet, almost human voice.
Then, he crumbled to dust.
The ash rose to the cave ceiling, scattered through the darkness, vanished.
The corrupted mana dissipated.
Silence returned.
"Zirinos?" Luna's voice, small, trembling.
"I am alive," I replied.
The ground rushed up to meet me.
Everything went dark.