The massive doors to the throne room groaned as John, Kaia, and Thorin pushed them open. The space beyond was dimly lit, a warped reflection of grandeur twisted by dark magic. Towering columns lined the room, their surfaces crawling with unnatural veins of shadow. At the far end, a grotesque cauldron bubbled with violet energy, tendrils of darkness slithering out like hungry eels searching for prey.

  And in the middle of it all, perched lazily on a throne of polished obsidian, was Tiffany.

  She clapped her hands together, her wide grin splitting her face. “Oh goodie! The sacrifices brought themselves! That saves me sooo much time.”

  John let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, figured we’d skip the whole ‘captured and dragged in chains’ part and get right to the stabbing.” He tilted his head. “Though, let’s be honest, you would’ve gone for something tacky. Pink manacles? Fluffy handcuffs?”

  Tiffany gasped. “Excuse you, rose quartz manacles, John. I have taste.”

  Kaia cut in, gripping her staff. “Enough. Whatever dark magic you’re playing with ends here.”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Ugh, as if! You losers couldn’t even handle my C-listers, and now you think you can take me?” She flipped her hair, gesturing to the warriors surrounding her. “Say hello to my elite knights! Stronger, faster, actually competent—unlike some of my last minions. Looking at you, Greg.”

  One of the armored figures stiffened. “…I did my best.”

  John cracked his neck. “Let’s see how ‘elite’ they are.” He flicked his knife in his grip. **“Thorin, smash. Kaia, zap. I’ll do something flashy and stupid.

  John barely had time to finish his sentence before the first of Tiffany’s knights lunged. A massive, hulking brute clad in spiked armor swung a two-handed battle-axe straight for his head. John ducked at the last second, feeling the wind from the swing ruffle his hair.

  “Yikes. Ever heard of subtlety?” he quipped, rolling away as the axe embedded itself into the marble floor with a deafening crack.

  Thorin met the brute head-on, slamming his shield into his opponent’s chest and driving him backward. The impact was like thunder. The brute staggered, but instead of falling, he let out a distorted, inhuman snarl and pushed back with terrifying force.

  Kaia moved fast, raising her staff and whispering an incantation. A bolt of divine energy erupted from its tip, arcing toward another warrior—a lithe woman in a black cloak wielding twin daggers. But instead of dodging, the woman raised a hand. The spell fizzled out mid-air, consumed by some unnatural force.

  “Oh, that’s just rude.” Kaia scowled, already forming another spell.

  John darted past the brute and squared off with another knight. This one had a serrated sword pulsing with dark energy. “Neat sword,” John said. “Compensating for something?”

  The knight didn’t respond—just slashed at him in a blur of motion. John barely managed to sidestep, but the blade still nicked his sleeve, leaving a thin line of heat on his arm.

  Great. They weren’t just strong. They were fast.

  Tiffany, meanwhile, remained by her cauldron, humming a disgustingly cheerful pop song as if nothing was happening. The room vibrated with raw magic as the ritual intensified. The air smelled of burning sugar and rot. The cauldron’s contents were bubbling violently now, spewing arcs of purple lightning that shattered nearby pillars.

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” Tiffany said, twirling a finger in her hair. “You guys have so much fun down there. I’ll just be over here summoning my ultimate form.”

  John parried the serrated sword with his knife, but the force behind the knight’s strike nearly sent him flying. He twisted, letting the blade slide off his weapon before ducking under a follow-up attack. The knight fought like a machine—relentless, precise, and impossibly strong.

  “Okay, you guys are a little overqualified for evil henchmen.” John rolled to the side as another knight, this one wielding a spear crackling with dark energy, thrust at him. He barely avoided getting skewered. “Tiffany, you recruiting from evil LinkedIn or something?”

  Tiffany giggled as she traced arcane sigils in the air. “Oh, John, you silly little cockroach. You think I just found these guys? Please. I made them. Each one of them used to be, like, normal people. Well, kind of. Now they’re so much better—like, super buff, ultra-loyal, and totally mute! I mean, some of them could talk before, but I got sooo tired of all the whining.”

  Thorin roared as he sent one knight crashing into a pillar with a shield bash, but the warrior barely seemed fazed. Kaia was locked in a fierce exchange of magic with the cloaked woman, both launching bolts of energy at each other that collided in mid-air, sending sparks flying.

  John, meanwhile, was busy not dying. He darted between two knights, barely avoiding a synchronized attack, before flipping over a toppled throne to gain some distance. His heart pounded. These guys weren’t just strong—they were practically unstoppable.

  “We need a new plan,” he called out, dodging another attack.

  Kaia gritted her teeth as she deflected another magical assault. “You don’t say?!”

  Thorin, currently grappling with an axe-wielding knight twice his size, growled, “Less talking, more fighting!”

  Tiffany sighed dramatically. “Ugh, this is taking forever.” She flicked a hand, and suddenly, the knights moved even faster. One moment, John was dodging, and the next, he was being slammed against a wall by an unseen force.

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  His vision blurred. His ribs hurt. The knight responsible stepped forward, raising its sword for the finishing blow

  The cauldron exploded with energy, sending waves of dark magic crashing through the throne room. Tiffany let out an excited squeal. “Oooooh, we’re at the best part!”

  John struggled to his feet as he took in the horror unfolding before him. The cauldron’s liquid was rising—alive—slithering through the air in thick tendrils, grabbing onto the knights. Instead of resisting, they stood motionless as the magic wrapped around them, pulling them toward the center of the room.

  Kaia gasped. “She’s absorbing them.”

  Tiffany clapped her hands. “Ding ding ding! Someone’s got a brain cell. Yes, I’m taking all their strength. Their skills. Their essence. And once that’s done, I’ll be, like, a god or something. Haven’t decided what I’ll call myself yet—maybe ‘Queen Tiffany the Eternal?’ No, too long. Tiffy the Undying? Eh.”

  The knights dissolved into the swirling energy, their armor clattering to the floor as Tiffany’s form shifted. Her skin darkened to an unnatural obsidian hue, her eyes glowing with violet light. The air hummed with her power.

  John exchanged a look with Kaia and Thorin. This was really, really bad.

  Tiffany stretched, admiring her transformed hands. “Ooooh, this feels amazing.” She grinned at them. “Okay, time for the grand finale. Who wants to be first?”

  The remaining magic surged toward the three of them, wrapping around their bodies like living chains.

  John struggled, but it was strong—an oppressive weight pressing against his limbs. Thorin was cursing in dwarvish, and Kaia was trying to summon a counterspell, but the magic held.

  Tiffany skipped toward them, inspecting each of them like she was picking a meal off a menu. “Mmm, let’s see… axe boy? Nah, too grumpy. Magic girl? Ehhh, kinda boring. Oooooh, John!” She giggled. “You should totally go first.”

  John forced a smirk. “Just so you know, I'm so totally giving you indigestion.”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re so difficult.” She snapped her fingers, and the magic dragged him forward, toward the bubbling cauldron.

  John’s mind raced. He needed an out. A distraction. Something.

  And then, as he was inches from the cauldron’s surface, he blurted out—

  “Your hair looks stupid.”

  Everything stopped.

  Tiffany froze.

  Kaia blinked. “…What?”

  Tiffany gasped so loudly it echoed through the chamber. “EXCUSE YOU?!” She spun, yanking a hand mirror from somewhere (seriously, where did she even keep that?) and checked her reflection in a panic.

  John moved.

  The skeletal warrior holding him loosened its grip just enough, and John activated Perfect Evasion. His body flickered, slipping through the grasp of the magic like smoke.

  He hit the ground running, reaching into his pocket and pulling out—

  The weird whistle.

  The one he’d found in that abandoned farmhouse days ago. The one that had never done anything.

  He blew it.

  The sound was deafening. Not just loud—otherworldly. The entire castle seemed to vibrate with its intensity. Tiffany screamed, covering her ears.

  John didn’t waste a second. He lunged forward, dagger flashing—

  And drove the blade straight into Tiffany’s stomach.

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God.” She wobbled, looking down at the blade like she couldn’t believe this was happening. “Did you just—?”

  John didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved her backward—

  Right into the cauldron.

  The effect was instantaneous. The bubbling liquid erupted like a volcano, sparks of magic bursting out in every direction. The entire throne room shook. Tiffany let out an ear-piercing shriek as the magic devoured her, her form twisting, distorting—

  And then the cauldron imploded.

  The knights still standing froze in place, their eyes going blank before they crumpled into dust. Kaia and Thorin dropped to the ground as the magical restraints vanished.

  John was already running. “MOVE! NOW!”

  The castle collapsed around them.

  They sprinted through the halls, dodging falling debris, the very structure of the place unraveling as Tiffany’s magic spiraled out of control. The air was thick with the scent of burnt ozone and something far worse.

  By the time they reached the city streets, chaos had already spread. The twisted, monstrous townsfolk were melting, their corrupted forms dissolving into the cobblestones. The sky itself seemed to be ripping open, streaks of light cutting through the darkness.

  They ran.

  The explosion came seconds later. Throwing them through the air like 80s action heroes.

  John hit the ground hard, the shockwave launching all three of them forward. He rolled, coughing, as debris rained down around them.

  For a moment, everything was silent.

  Then, as the dust began to settle, John lifted his head—

  And saw

  John lifted his head, blinking through the settling dust. Where Tiffany’s castle had stood, there was now nothing. Just a massive, smoldering crater surrounded by cracked earth and flickering remnants of purple energy. The twisted spires, the eerie throne room, the grotesque knights—all gone.

  He pushed himself up on shaky arms, ribs screaming in protest. “Okay. That sucked.”

  Kaia groaned from somewhere to his left. “That’s… an understatement.” She was lying on her back, staring at the sky, her white robes now more of a dirt-streaked gray. “We’re alive. That’s good.”

  Thorin, ever the resilient one, sat up and spat blood onto the cobblestone. “Barely.” He clutched his shield, which had a massive dent in it. “Remind me again why we thought charging into a demon-witch’s castle was a good idea?”

  John winced as he rolled onto his side, holding his ribs. “Because we’re idiots?”

  “Accurate,” Kaia muttered.

  They sat there for a moment, catching their breath as the eerie silence of the ruined city settled over them. The sky, once choked with unnatural darkness, was slowly brightening as the remnants of Tiffany’s magic faded. Whatever she had become, whatever twisted reality she had been crafting—it was over.

  John glanced at the whistle still clutched in his fingers. The thing looked ordinary enough, but the way it had resonated when he blew it… that wasn’t normal.

  Kaia must have noticed his expression. “What was that?” she asked, sitting up. “That sound—it wasn’t just noise. It changed something.”

  John frowned, turning the whistle over in his hands. “No idea. I found it days ago. It never did anything before.” He tucked it back into his belt. “But I’m thinking it just earned a permanent spot in my ‘weird magical crap that might save my ass’ collection.”

  Thorin grunted as he hauled himself to his feet. “We should move. No telling how long this place holds together.”

  John nodded and turned to take stock of their surroundings. The city —or what was left of it—was eerily quiet. The monstrous, corrupted townspeople were gone, either reduced to ash or reclaimed by whatever dark magic had twisted them in the first place. Buildings had collapsed, streets were littered

  John scanned the remains of the former necropolis. What had once been a bustling city—even if twisted by Tiffany’s magic—was now a graveyard of crumbling buildings and eerie silence. A few fires still flickered in the wreckage, their glow casting long shadows in the dawn’s first light.

  “So, uh… I guess we won?” John asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Kaia stood, brushing dust from her robes. “Victory usually feels less… apocalyptic.”

  Thorin grunted, tightening his grip on his dented shield. “Aye, and less like my ribs are tryin’ to stab my insides.”

  John sighed, wincing as he stretched. “Same. I’m like one good punch away from turning into a puddle of regret.” He took another look at the smoldering crater where the castle had stood. “Think she’s really gone?”

  Kaia crossed her arms, frowning. “Something that powerful doesn’t just… disappear.”

  Thorin kicked a piece of rubble aside. “If she ain’t dead, she’ll be wishin’ she was after a fall like that.”

  John stared at the dark pit for a long moment, then shook his head. “Well, if she comes back, I’m definitely ghosintg her crazy ass.” He clapped his hands together, immediately regretting it as pain shot through his bruised ribs. “Okay. Step one: not dying. Step two: getting the hell out of here.”

  John frowned, scanning the ruins. “The people who lived here… what happened to them?”

  Kaia exhaled. “Best guess? They were tied to her magic. When she went down, so did they.”

  Kaia closed her eyes, whispering a quiet prayer.

  Thorin sighed. “Aye. No savin’ them now.” He turned, looking toward the city gates. “But we should still get moving before somethin’ else crawls outta this mess.”

  As they made their way through the ruins, the silence weighed on them. No voices, no birds—just the occasional creak of collapsing buildings and the whisper of the wind through empty streets.

  John spotted something in the rubble—something too clean amidst the wreckage. He crouched down and picked it up. A single, small mirror.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  Tiffany had conjured one just like it before.

  His reflection stared back at him, but something about it felt off. He could almost swear that for a fraction of a second—just barely—his reflection smirked.

  John’s grip tightened, and with a sudden surge of unease, he threw it down and stomped on the mirror.

  Just in case.

  As they stepped through the shattered gates of a city once called Brightfall, the first rays of morning light broke over the horizon.

  John sighed. “Well… that was a fun”

  Kaia smirked, despite everything. “You did save the world.”

  Thorin grunted. “For now.”

  John stretched, wincing. “Right. So, breakfast?”

  Kaia rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Thorin chuckled. “Aye. But I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

  As they walked down the road, leaving the ruins behind, John glanced back one last time. The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying away the last remnants of Tiffany’s reign.

  Still, deep down,he had a feeling…

  This wasn’t the last he’d hear of her.