Lucian stepped first.

Voss did not back away. That told him enough. She was not the type to guard a prize by hiding behind it. She made herself the thing you had to survive.

Her silver hand came up.

Lucian’s right blade met it. Steel rang against silver, sharp and clean. Voss used the impact to turn her body sideways, her left hand sliding along his blade to kill the force. Her right hand flashed low with a knife that had not been there a second ago.

Lucian shifted his hip. The knife cut air where his ribs had been. His left blade came down toward her wrist.

Voss pulled back fast, then stepped in closer instead of retreating. Her shoulder bumped his chest. Not hard. Just enough to break his sword angle.

Smart.

Lucian let the pressure carry him half a step, turned with it, and brought his knee up. Voss blocked with her silver hand. The impact should have thrown her back. She held. Barely. Her boots scraped across the stone, but she did not fall.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. That hand was not just a weapon. It was an anchor.

Voss saw him notice. "Fast learner."

He said nothing. Came in again.

His blades moved in a cross-pattern, one high, one low. Voss twisted between them with frightening precision, silver hand catching the first edge, knife deflecting the second. She was not stronger. Not faster. But she knew how to steal inches. Every movement took something from him. A step. An angle. A clean line.

That was experience.

Lucian’s footwork changed.

Voss felt it immediately. The pressure shifted. The rookie rhythm vanished. The blades became quiet. Too quiet.

He stepped in with no wasted movement, right blade cutting toward her shoulder. Voss raised the silver hand to catch it again.

He let her.

The moment metal touched metal, he loosened his grip, turned his wrist, and slid the blade along her guard. Her arm drifted one inch too far outward. His left blade was already there.

Voss moved her head back just in time. The edge skimmed her cheek. A thin red line opened. Her eyes sharpened.

Lucian pressed. Right blade. Left blade. Step. Turn. Cut. Withdraw. Every strike clean. No anger. No show.

Voss gave ground for the first time. Three steps. Then four.

Her knife came up in a reverse grip, aiming for his wrist. Lucian lifted his hand, let the knife pass below, and drove the flat of his blade against her forearm.

Voss’s fingers almost opened. Almost. She held the knife and kicked at his knee.

Lucian stepped over the kick and drove his shoulder into her. This time she went back hard. Her body hit the stone pillar beside the netted Glimmertongue.

The creature hissed and recoiled as far as the silver mesh allowed.

Lucian saw it shift.

Voss saw his eyes move. She struck immediately, silver hand snapping out not for his blade but for his throat. Lucian leaned back. The fingers missed by a breath. Her knife followed, low and ugly. He caught her wrist with the guard of his left blade and shoved it aside. Then his right blade stopped at her neck. Still. Clean. One inch away.

Voss froze.

"You’re good," Lucian said.

Her breath was steady, but her eyes had changed. "And you’re not a rookie."

Before he could answer, heavy footsteps came from the tunnel behind him.

Gunnar burst into the cave with a short axe in one hand and a thick iron baton in the other. Mira followed right behind, lighter on her feet, twin curved blades already drawn.

Lucian did not turn fully. He only shifted his eyes.

Voss smiled. "Bad timing."

Lucian stepped back from her. "No," he said quietly. "Better."

Gunnar took in the scene—Voss bleeding, the creature trapped, Lucian standing with both blades out. His face twisted. "You cut her?"

Voss snapped, "Gunnar—"

Too late. He charged.

Not subtle. Not clever. Just brutal. The axe came first, aimed at Lucian’s collarbone. The baton followed a heartbeat later, sweeping for his ribs.

Lucian moved through the gap between both attacks. His right blade flicked up and knocked the axe off‑line. His left blade dropped and caught the baton near the grip. Then he stepped in and kicked Gunnar in the chest.

The big man slid back, boots grinding over bone and stone.

Mira came from the side before Lucian could reset. Her blades crossed and opened like scissors toward his throat. Lucian ducked. The curved edges passed over him. He turned while low, one blade sweeping toward her ankle. Mira jumped it. Good reflex. In midair, she flipped one blade and stabbed down toward the back of his neck.

Lucian rolled his shoulder aside and rose into her space. His elbow slammed into her stomach before her feet touched ground.

Mira gasped and folded, but Voss was already there. Silver hand. Knife. Fast.

Lucian turned his right blade backward and caught her knife at the hilt, then used his left to block the silver hand.

Gunnar came again.

Three at once.

Good.

Lucian’s eyes went cold. His body changed. Not bigger. Not louder. Cleaner. He moved back one step and let all three enter the same killing space.

Gunnar’s axe descended. Mira’s blade cut sideways. Voss aimed for the gap between them with a thrust meant to end the fight while his attention split.

Lucian’s right blade met the axe and guided it down into Mira’s slash. Metal clashed. Mira’s blade bounced wide. His left sword caught Voss’s knife and twisted it just enough to make her stab pass under his arm.

Then he stepped forward. His shoulder hit Voss. His knee hit Gunnar. His left foot hooked Mira’s ankle. Three movements in one breath.

Voss staggered. Gunnar grunted. Mira hit the ground and rolled before his blade could pin her.

Lucian followed her with speed that made Voss curse under her breath. Mira came up with both blades crossed. He struck once. Her guard shook. Twice. One blade flew from her hand. Third strike. The flat of his sword hit her shoulder and spun her sideways into the cave wall.

Gunnar was on him again. This time he feinted with the axe and drove the baton straight toward Lucian’s spine. Lucian didn’t look back. He stepped left. The baton missed. His right blade reversed and cut across Gunnar’s forearm.

Blood opened. Gunnar snarled and tried to grab him. Lucian ducked under the arm, turned, and slammed the hilt of one sword into Gunnar’s jaw. The big man’s head snapped sideways. A normal man would have gone down. Gunnar stayed up.

Lucian’s eyes sharpened with approval.

Then Voss hit him. Not with her knife. With the silver hand. It struck his ribs and sent a hard shock through his body. For the first time, Lucian felt real bite. Not enough to break him. Enough to make him slide.

His boots dragged through loose stones.

Voss came after him. No pause. Knife to throat. Silver hand to chest. Knee to thigh. Lucian parried the knife, twisted away from the silver hand, and checked the knee with his own.

Mira returned from the side with one blade, blood at the corner of her mouth, eyes sharp. Gunnar came from the other side, wounded but still heavy. Voss stayed in front. Three directions. No clean exit.

Good formation.

Voss was the center pressure. Gunnar was the weight. Mira was the cut.

Lucian breathed once. Then he moved. He did not force his way through. He folded between them. His left blade tapped Voss’s knife aside. His body turned with Gunnar’s axe, letting it pass close enough to tug at his shirt. His right blade flicked low and cut Mira’s incoming strike at the wrist guard. The impact numbed her fingers.

Then he stepped onto a loose stone he had marked earlier. Not by accident. His heel rolled it backward.

The stone shot under Gunnar’s foot just as the big man stepped in. Gunnar’s balance broke. Only a little. Lucian used that little. He slammed the flat of both blades into Gunnar’s chest in a crossed strike.

The big man flew back and crashed into the pillar near the Glimmertongue. The pillar cracked. The creature shrieked inside the net, silver threads digging deeper into pale skin.

Voss’s eyes flicked toward it.

Lucian saw the glance. Mira used that moment to attack. She came low, blade angled for his thigh. He jumped over the cut, turned in the air, and kicked her in the side of the head before landing. Mira dropped to one knee.

Voss was already trying to reach the net. Lucian appeared between her and the creature. His blade stopped her hand.

"Not yet."

Voss’s face hardened. Gunnar rose behind him with blood running down his mouth.

Then a shout came from above. Not Gunnar. Cora’s voice, distant but closing. Ashen Dawn was near.

The Glimmertongue heard them too. Its body went still. Too still.

Lucian noticed. Voss noticed a heartbeat later.

The creature’s throat rippled. Not loud. Soft. Tiny.

"Voss..." Mira’s voice. But not aimed at Voss. Aimed at the net. At the silver threads. At the old hunter markings woven through them.

The voice changed again. Older. Male. Then younger. Then Voss’s own voice. It wasn’t trying to fool a person now. It was trying to imitate a command.

Voss’s eyes widened. "No."

The net loosened. Only a fraction. But a fraction was enough.

The Glimmertongue folded its body wrong, bending limbs through spaces no human joint could survive. Smoke poured from its skin as the silver burned deeper, but it kept moving. Pain did not stop it. Fear did not stop it.

It squeezed one arm free. Then its head. Then half its chest.

Gunnar cursed. Mira pushed herself up. Lucian moved first, throwing one blade at the anchor ring of the net. The blade struck the stone beside it, pinning part of the silver mesh in place before it could unravel completely.

The Glimmertongue screamed.

Voss lunged for the launcher. Gunnar rushed the creature. Mira moved toward the side exit. Too many actions. Too many lines.

Lucian drove forward and kicked Gunnar out of the creature’s reach just as the Glimmertongue’s free hand snapped out for his face. The claws missed Gunnar by inches and carved grooves into stone instead.

"Idiot," Lucian snapped.

Gunnar hit the ground and rolled, furious but alive.

The Glimmertongue ripped its other arm free. Silver tore skin from bone in smoking strips. It did not care. Its mouth opened wider than it should have. This time the sound that came out was not a voice. It was pressure. A scream packed tight enough to hit the chest.

Mira staggered. Gunnar dropped to one knee. Voss clamped her jaw and forced herself forward.

Lucian stood through it. His ears rang again, but his blades were already moving. He grabbed the sword he had thrown, pulled it free, and slashed across the creature’s path.

The Glimmertongue recoiled. Not because the cut landed deep. Because it recognized him now. The one who did not answer voices. The one who blocked exits. The one who watched too calmly.

It hissed at him with hate. Then it threw Mira’s voice into his ear.

"Lucian, help me."

He stepped forward. The creature flinched. Wrong choice.

It changed instantly.

Margie’s voice.

Soft. Trembling.

"Lucian..."

For one heartbeat, the cave went cold inside him.

Not because he believed it.

Because the creature had used that name.

His sister’s name.

The girl who had spent years hating him. The girl who was still learning what it meant to be family. The girl he had promised to protect even when she pushed him away.

The creature did not know that. It only knew that the name carried weight. It had tasted the air around Lucian, read the tiny shifts in his posture, and found the single thread that could pull him off balance.

It had chosen wrong.