"Hundreds of them," Isolde whispered, her voice tight with tension.
Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark cavern mist.
"Along the riverbank. Waiting in the shallow water."
I stepped slightly in front of her and Seraphina, keeping my boots firmly planted on the dry limestone ledge.
In the absolute dark I could not see the creatures clearly, but I heard the wet, sickening sliding of scaled bodies over stone.
The sharp stench of rotting fish and stagnant bog water filled the cold air.
The subterranean scavengers had been drawn from the deeper subterranean trenches by the scent of fresh blood.
I closed my eyes and reached into the center of my chest, tapping into the heavy black star - the Abyssal-Forged Mana Core.
I did not draw a weapon.
I did not cast an offensive spell.
I simply opened my mana channels and let the dense, crushing gravity of the Abyssal core bleed outward into the cavern.
The temperature in the underground canyon plunged instantly.
A choking, heavy atmospheric weight slammed down onto the river surface like a massive iron slab.
The water violently churned as dozens of scaled crawlers shrieked in primal terror.
The creatures thrashed in panic, scrambling over each other and diving deep into the black subterranean current to escape the terrifying presence of the Abyssal Sovereign.
Within seconds, the cavern fell completely silent except for the steady, hollow rush of the river.
I cut off the mana flow and let out a slow, controlled breath.
"They’re gone," Isolde said softly, her violet eyes tracking the empty ripples on the water.
She stepped closer to my side, her fingers lightly touching my forearm.
"They scattered the moment your mana flared," she murmured. "Your core feels like a bottomless pit of black iron."
"Abyssal mana," I replied. "Heavy, cold, but stable. We are done fighting for tonight."
"Where do we go from here?" Seraphina asked from my back.
Her voice was frail, trembling from the bone-deep cold of her soaked clothes.
I adjusted the leather straps supporting her weight, feeling the icy chill radiating from her paralyzed limbs.
"There is a natural thermal spring further down this river canyon," I told her. "Old smuggler records mentioned it. The sulfur masks our scent from tracking hounds, and the natural heat keeps subterranean predators away. It is less than a quarter mile ahead."
"Then we walk," Isolde said firmly.
For the first time since we met, she did not need to reach blindly for my belt.
She took my left arm with practiced ease, her gaze locked on the path ahead.
"I will guide our footing across the wet rocks."
We moved carefully along the riverbank, leaving the dark canyon behind us.
Isolde’s shadow-sight led us safely over slick granite shelves, around hidden sinkholes, and past treacherous drop-offs where the river plunged into bottomless abysses.
The only sounds were our rhythmic footsteps on the damp stone and Seraphina’s quiet, shivering breaths against the nape of my neck.
Ten minutes later, the air inside the passage shifted completely.
Thick plumes of warm white steam began rolling through the tunnel like soft clouds.
Isolde pulled me toward a narrow vertical fissure in the limestone wall.
We squeezed through the opening one by one and stepped into a vast, hidden underground grotto.
A massive natural thermal pool filled the center of the chamber, its crystal-clear water bubbling gently from deep volcanic vents in the bedrock.
The air inside the grotto was delightfully warm and humid.
A faint, pleasant mineral scent hung in the steam, soothing our lungs after hours of breathing freezing damp air.
It was an untouched, perfect sanctuary hidden hundreds of feet beneath the surface.
I walked to the edge of the thermal pool, knelt on the smooth, warm flagstones, and carefully unbuckled the leather straps from my chest.
I gently lifted Seraphina in my arms and laid her down on the dry, heated rock shelf beside the water.
I opened the System interface and purchased a basic survival camp kit, including clean self-heating blankets, antiseptic soap, and soft linen towels.
I set a small light-stone on a raised ledge, casting a warm golden glow across the steaming water.
I sat down heavily against a smooth stone pillar, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
Every muscle in my body throbbed with fatigue.
The deep cuts and bruises from fighting the templars and absorbing the demonic fragment were healed, but the sheer physical exhaustion still sat heavy in my bones.
Isolde sat near the shallow edge of the thermal pool, dipping her bare hands into the warm water.
Mud and dried blood stained her torn dark dress, but her violet eyes were fixed on the rising steam and the dancing golden reflections with quiet, breathless wonder.
She was experiencing the visual world again for the first time in months.
Seraphina lay quietly on the warm blanket, her golden blonde hair matted with mud and her royal gown ruined by river sludge and grime.
She looked entirely drained, but the hostility in her amber eyes had melted into a soft, vulnerable stillness.
I soaked a clean linen cloth in the warm mineral water, knelt beside Seraphina, and began to gently wipe the mud and dried blood from her pale face and neck.
She did not pull away or tense up.
Isolde watched us for a quiet moment, then picked up a second cloth, soaked it in the warm water, and knelt on the other side of Seraphina.
Together, we worked in gentle silence, washing away the dirt and grime from the fallen Princess.
After several minutes, Isolde looked down at the rippling water and spoke in a soft, reverent whisper.
"I can see the steam rising into the air," Isolde said, her voice trembling slightly. "I can see the warm light dancing on the ripples. I had forgotten that colors could look so peaceful when they are not twisted by pain."
"Take your time," I told her with a gentle smile. "There is no need to rush tonight."
Seraphina opened her amber eyes, looking between Isolde and me.
"Are we truly safe here, Cassian?" she asked softly.
"For tonight, yes," I answered, wringing out the cloth. "The sulfur steam will blind any magical tracking spells, and the heat will keep the canyon beasts away. Both of you can finally rest."
I turned to Isolde, took her hands, and washed the stubborn dirt from her fingers and forearms.
She let me hold her hands without resistance.
When I finished, she stared down at her clean skin, turning her palms over under the light-stone as if making sure it was real.
Then she looked up into my eyes.
"You keep choosing to protect us," Isolde murmured, her voice laced with deep emotion. "Even when it almost kills you."
"I told you before," I said quietly, meeting her gaze. "I don’t wear anyone’s leash, and I don’t abandon the people who stand with me."
Seraphina watched us, a faint, tired smile touching her lips.
"In the capital, no one moves a finger without calculating their own profit," Seraphina whispered. "You are an impossible man, Cassian Voss."
"Get used to it," I said with a soft chuckle.
Isolde rested her shoulder lightly against mine, watching the steam curl across the ceiling.
Seraphina’s breathing gradually slowed into a deep, peaceful rhythm under the warm blanket.
For the first time since the carriage gates slammed shut in the capital, no one was hunting us in the immediate dark.
We let the peaceful silence hold us.
The night was far from over, and the dark curse bound to Seraphina’s spine still remained to be dealt with, but in this warm grotto, the three of us were finally alive and together.