Page 45 of A Touch of Madness

“Let’s hope we’re ready for whatever comes next,” I say, my eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the stronghold looming ahead. The air around us is still heavy, charged with the residual energy of the magic we’ve faced.

Viago smirks, brushing off his coat. “This is only the prelude. The real challenge lies inside.”

The group regains its formation, bruised and battered but resolute. As we press forward, I can’t shake the feeling that the forest has one last test waiting for us. But for now, the path is clear, and the stronghold beckons—ominous and unyielding.

After what feels like hours, the forest begins to thin, revealing the faint outline of the Solstice Society’s stronghold. Its dark spires loom like jagged knives against the night sky, their silhouettes wreathed in an unnatural haze. The air here feels thick, pressing against us with the weight of layered magic that hums with warning.

Viago gestures for everyone to halt, his eyes scanning the terrain ahead. “This is it. The Mirror is inside. Stick to the plan.” His voice is low but sharp, and for once, there’s no smirk on his face—only grim determination.

The stronghold’s perimeter is surrounded by an open expanse, barren of trees but filled with the remnants of old wards. The faint glimmer of sigils etched into the ground catches the moonlight, their magic still active despite the years. Ravenna steps closer, crouching near one of the larger symbols. She doesn’t touch it, but her expression tightens.

“The wards here are ancient,” she says. “More potent than the ones in the forest. We can’t simply dismantle them; they’re tied to the stronghold itself.”

“So how do we get through?” Dorian asks, his voice edged with impatience.

“We work together,” Ravenna replies, standing and dusting off her hands. She glances at the elders, then at Sylvie. “The witches will channel a shield to neutralize the ward’s effects temporarily, but we’ll need the vampires to cover us. These sigils are likely tied to alarms as well as defenses, and we’ll draw attention the moment we step inside.”

Kristoff scoffs. “Great. A stealthy approach was too much to hope for.”

“You knew what you signed up for,” Viago snaps, his patience wearing thin. “Focus on the task at hand.”

Sylvie steps forward, her gaze fixed on the stronghold. “If we can neutralize the outer wards, I can try to sense the weaker points in their internal defenses. It might give us a chance to move without alerting everyone inside.”

“That’s a big if,” Vada mutters, but she steps into formation with the others regardless.

The witches fan out, their hands raised as they begin to weave a protective barrier. Sylvie’s voice rises alongside Ravenna’s and the elders’, their magic intertwining into a shimmering dome that pulses outward. The air crackles with energy, and the sigils beneath our feet dim slightly, their power suppressed but not extinguished.

“Move now,” Ravenna commands.

We cross the barren expanse quickly, the vampires forming a protective circle around the witches. Every step feels like a battle, the suppressed wards fighting against the shield with bursts of residual energy. One of the sigils flares suddenly, and a blast of light erupts toward the group. Viago moves faster than thought, deflecting the attack with a blade that hums with enchantment.

“Stay sharp!” he barks.

Another burst of energy strikes toward Rebecca, but Nicole intercepts it, her shield shimmering as it absorbs the impact. The strain is visible on her face, but she doesn’t falter. Meanwhile, Sylvie’s focus remains on the stronghold, her eyes glowing faintly as she channels her magic.

“There,” she says, pointing toward a section of the outer wall. “That’s the weakest point in their defenses. If we concentrate our efforts, we can break through.”

Dorian and Vada exchange a glance before stepping forward, their weapons ready. “We’ll clear the path,” Dorian says, his tone resolute.

As they advance, the wards lash out again, sending jagged streaks of energy toward the group. The vampires move in unison, their speed and precision a stark contrast to the chaotic magic surrounding us. Vada’s blade slices through an incoming tendril of energy, while Dorian’s movements are a blur, his strikes calculated and efficient.

Behind them, the witches intensify their efforts, their chants growing louder as they channel more power into the shield. Ravenna’s voice cuts through the din, commanding and steady. “Sylvie, now!”

Sylvie steps forward, her hands glowing with an intense light. She raises them toward the weak point in the wall, her magic surging outward in a focused beam. The wall trembles, cracks spidering across its surface as the combined energy of the group presses against it. The wards scream in defiance, their energy rippling outward in one final, desperate attempt to hold us back.

With a deafening crack, the wall gives way, a section crumbling inward to reveal the shadowed interior of the stronghold. The crushing weight of the wards eases, though the air inside thrums with latent menace, like the lingering vibration of a struck bell.

Viago steps through first, his blade drawn, eyes narrowed as he surveys the dimly lit corridor beyond. "No turning back now," he says, his voice a quiet edge of resolve.

I glance at Sylvie, her face pale but determined, like the faint glow of a candle braving a storm. "Stay close," I murmur, the words more a plea than a command. She nods, her hand brushing mine briefly before she steps forward, her gaze fixed on the darkness ahead.

The final test lies inside, and there’s no turning back.

The moment we step inside the confines that were once so hidden in the depths of the forest, the weight of the stronghold’s magic wraps around me like an iron veil. The air is heavy with the scent of burning herbs and decay, a nauseating mix that churns my stomach. Shadows flicker across the walls, twisting in ways that make my skin crawl. The corridor stretches ahead, narrow and suffocating, and each step feels heavier than the last.

I’m getting tired. My body aches to rest. We all knew a week wouldn’t be enough time to get my stamina fully built up to handle this, but we had no other choice. The longer this goes on, the more danger Lara—and the vampires and witches I’ve come to love—are in.

“Stay by my side,” Lucian murmurs, his voice low and edged with concern and his blade drawn and ready.

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