From amidst the swirling dust and blood-soaked earth, a new figure burst into the fray.
Logan.
He emerged like a thunderbolt, boots slamming the ground, eyes blazing. His cloak whipped around him as he stormed forward, ignoring the chaos, ignoring the screams. He moved straight for Lamia, who stood towering over the shattered, barely breathing form of Asher.
"Enough, Desdemona!" Logan's voice rang out like a gunshot, echoing across the battlefield. "I know you're angry with me. I broke your heart… I broke Zandros' heart. But this isn't the way!"
Lamia slowly turned, a cruel smile blooming on his blood-smeared lips. His eyes were molten black pools, swirling with malice.
"Oh, Logan… you traitor," he sneered, voice dripping venom. "You betrayed me. And after everything… you still betrayed Zandros. You're the real villain here. You're evil."
Logan clenched his jaw, guilt flickering across his face. He lowered his gaze for a brief moment, nodding.
"I understand," he murmured. "But obliterating the entire world won't solve anything. Please…"
But Lamia threw back his head and laughed, a sound that crackled like lightning.
"You fools!" Lamia roared. "It's too late now! The divine being is dead. So… bye-bye."
Logan's eyes glowed suddenly, a brilliant silvery-white light pulsing from his pupils. Lamia only grinned wider.
"You know you're not as powerful as you used to be, Logan. Step aside."
But Logan's face hardened.
"No," he said quietly.
He drew a sword from his belt—a sword so black it seemed to swallow the light, etched with runes glowing faint silver.
"You're far too gone, Desdemona. And I'm sorry for the body you possess… but I have to kill both of you."
Lamia scoffed—but Logan snapped his fingers.
A storm erupted from his body. Violent winds howled, tearing dirt and stone into the sky. Invisible force slammed into Lamia, paralyzing him mid-motion. The circle of crimson runes under Lamia's feet flickered wildly.
"I'm not weak," Logan growled. "Never have been."
He lifted his sword, his voice trembling with resolve.
"I carved this blade myself… with power you can't even imagine. And it can kill you. So, dear Desdemona… finally, I have the pleasure of sending you to oblivion."
He stepped forward, sword poised to strike Lamia's heart.
But before he could thrust it down—a sudden blur of blackness flashed beside him.
A hand plunged into Logan's chest, fingers ripping through flesh, muscle, and bone. Logan's eyes went wide in shock as blood bubbled in his throat.
When he looked down, he saw Hadrain's hand curled around his still-beating heart.
"H… Hadrain…?" Logan choked out, blood dribbling over his lips.
Hadrain's eyes glowed hellish red. A cruel grin twisted his face.
"No one harms my Lamia," Hadrain hissed.
Logan's blade slipped from his fingers, clanging onto the stones. He fell to his knees, gasping, eyes going glassy.
"I… I'm sorry… Slyvia…" he whispered, his voice fading as he collapsed. His heart dropped from Hadrain's bloody hand and hit the ground with a wet thud.
Hadrain wiped blood from his palm and turned to Lamia, whose chest heaved as dark magic still pulsed through his veins.
"Enough. It's time to leave, Desdemona." Hadrain's voice was a death knell.
He lifted his hands and began to chant in a guttural tongue older than any human language. His fingers snapped rhythmically as black sigils glowed around his palms.
Lamia screamed.
His body contorted violently, as though invisible claws were tearing him apart from within. His eyes rolled back. Black veins snaked across his face, splitting his skin.
Around them, the armies of dead witches howled, staggering, clutching their heads as their magic sputtered and waned. Hadrain's presence was suffocating, his aura pouring across the battlefield like molten lead.
Dark clouds churned above, spinning faster and faster into a monstrous vortex. Flocks of ravens appeared out of the swirling skies, circling over Lamia's writhing form. Some plummeted from the air as though suffocated, their wings snapping mid-flight, necks twisting grotesquely as they crashed to the ground. Feathers scattered like black snow across blood-drenched stones.
Hadrain's chanting grew louder. The shadows at his feet clawed upward like live serpents.
Catherine, who had lain crumpled and bleeding, blinked awake. She lifted her head and saw the horrific exorcism playing out before her eyes. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to rise.
"Lamia… Hadrain… stop… please…" she sobbed. But there was no stopping it now.
Lamia thrashed on the ground, blood spraying from his mouth and nose. His limbs convulsed, his fingers curling like claws as invisible chains pulled at his spirit. His head snapped violently from side to side, eyes rolling white.
From deep inside Lamia's chest, a voice howled—a shrill, woman's voice, filled with rage.
"Nooooooo!" screamed Desdemona. "Minions! Help me! NOOOOO—"
But one by one, her spectral minions began to vanish, fading into smoke, their wails echoing as they dissolved into the void.
Hadrain's eyes rolled back in his skull until only gold shone from his sockets. His skin seemed to glow with inner fire. The very air hissed and shimmered around him.
Desdemona's shriek rose to a deafening pitch, shaking the earth itself.
"You will never get your happy ending!" she screamed, voice fracturing into a thousand echoes.
Suddenly, her spirit tore free of Lamia's body in a fountain of blinding red light. A woman-shaped mass of black smoke and fiery eyes clawed at the edges of reality—but Hadrain snarled and thrust his palms outward.
A blinding blast of golden flames engulfed Desdemona.
She shrieked one final time—a scream so loud that nearby stones cracked open—before exploding into fire. Her smoky essence disintegrated into blazing embers, raining down over the battlefield.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Lamia collapsed onto his hands and knees, blood pouring from his nose, black ichor staining his lips. His eyes fluttered open, dazed, hollow.
"C… Cathy… is that… you?" he whispered, voice trembling and weak.
Catherine stumbled forward, tears pouring down her cheeks. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Lamia, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Yes, Lamia… it's me. I'm here. You're safe now… you're safe…"
But as she held him, Lamia sagged in her arms, barely conscious. He blinked at her, pale and battered.
"I… I'm so… sorry…" he whispered. "I didn't… want… any of this…"
The winds slowly died. The armies of witches lay scattered and powerless, groaning and terrified, their magic drained. The skies lightened above them, as if the sun were finally trying to break through the storm.
And in the crimson dirt, Logan's lifeless body lay still, blood soaking the earth around him.