As Kleo’s suffocating darkness descended, Jack conjured the first orb, letting it hover near her shoulder. Their bond, a conduit of magic, kept his vision clear.

  He had a trick, a gamble he’d been itching to try: splitting a single sphere into a swarm of smaller projectiles. Four orbs, launched in rapid succession, a game-changer. He’d relish the look on Kleo’s face when he pulled it off.

  But her expression, a mask of defiant bravado, crumbled into wide-eyed terror, her gaze fixed on an unseen horror. Her face contorted a silent scream, then a raw, visceral cry that sliced through the darkness like a jagged blade. Kleo crumpled to her knees, her body convulsing with grief.

  Jack’s chest tightened, a knot of dread. He wanted to rush to her, to offer comfort, but instinct held him back. The Spider Queen’s soft hum, a malevolent lullaby, and her concentration radiated dark intent. Whatever spell she wove, Kleo was ensnared. He needed to break the Queen’s concentration, to shatter the illusion’s hold.

  He turned, catching Maya’s frozen tableau. She stood, a statue of horror, her hand pressed against her lips, her other outstretched toward Will, who flailed wildly at invisible foes. Jack’s pulse quickened as Will’s errant strikes came dangerously close. He sidestepped, wary of the sticky webbing that clung to the floor. Getting trapped now would be catastrophic.

  He hurled a force orb at the Spider Queen, aiming for the vulnerable space behind her eye. The orb struck, and she flinched, one white eye snapping open, a glare of pure malice. For a heartbeat, Jack thought he had her attention, but she closed the eye, resuming her chant, her focus unbroken.

  Will groaned, collapsing to his knees, his arms raised in futile defense against unseen assailants. Maya screamed his name, her voice thick with panic. A heartbeat later, she lunged, a fiery projectile aimed at the Spider Queen. The Queen’s leg lashed out, a brutal strike, sending Maya crashing into a wall of webbing. Spiders swarmed, their green eyes gleaming, as she slid into unconsciousness.

  Jack’s fists clenched, rage a burning ember in his chest. The Queen’s deep, resonant purr filled the cavern, a victory song as she sensed the tide turning. The spiders, their loyalty wavering, swayed toward her, blades of grass bending in a dark wind.

  Not happening.

  He moved, a shadow circling her flank. He needed a decisive move, a strike that would demand her full attention. Manifesting another orb, he flattened it into a spinning disc, concentrating its force at the edges. His target: the pedicel, the vulnerable connection between her body segments. Severing it might cripple her, or at least draw her ire.

  He launched the disc, its trajectory curving inward. The angle was imperfect, striking a heavily armored section, deflecting, and carving a shallow gash instead of a clean cut.

  Frustration gnawed at him, but the small victory was significant. The Spider Queen hissed, her concentration shattered, her attention fixed on him.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Look at me, you overgrown bug,” Jack muttered, a predatory grin twisting his lips.

  She lunged, a blur of chitin and malice. Jack dove, but not fast enough. Her leg slashed across his arm, razor-sharp edges biting deep. Pain flared, blood streamed, and the force of the blow sent him crashing over Will’s inert form.

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  Jack clutched his arm, his teeth gritted against the agony. He had to keep moving. The Queen was going down, and a flesh wound wouldn’t deter him. He tore at the webbing, freeing himself, pulling himself to his feet.

  Holding his wounded arm, he kicked Will’s side. There was no visible injury, and Jack needed backup. The four of them, and he was the only one unaffected. The realization hit him: the Kull magic, a protective shield, had rendered him immune to the illusion.

  Will’s voice, thick with confusion, broke through the haze. “By the gods, you’re alive!”

  Jack glanced at him, a grim smile twisting his lips. “Not dead yet. Now, could you get your old ass off the floor and keep her legs off me? We can cut her in half!”

  Will struggled against the webbing. Jack sighed, grabbing him by his leathers, hauling him upright.

  “Do you see that connective tissue? I managed to tear it, but not enough. I’m going to try to get another shot at it. Try and distract her for me. Will? Are you listening to me?”

  Then, Jack’s gaze followed Will’s.

  It was Kleo—or a grotesque parody of her. She was changing, contorting, a monstrous transformation unfolding before his eyes. For a moment, all Jack could do was stare, his blood turning to ice.

  Her body shimmered with golden veins of raw power, her skin an obsidian canvas alive with shifting patterns of Kull magic. Wings, a breathtaking paradox of light and shadow, unfurled in a cascade of radiant feathers and ashen edges. She rose, a titan, unrecognizable in her magnificent transformation. Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

  “Kleo…” he breathed, his voice a mere whisper against the din of battle.

  He knew it was her, yet this vision defied all comprehension. She’d always possessed strength, a fierce determination, but now, she radiated an unyielding, primal power. A flicker of doubt, sharp and fleeting, pierced his awe. Was this truly Kleo?

  “By the gods…” Will murmured, his voice thick with disbelief. Kleo loomed, a figure of myth, her form a terrifying and beautiful paradox of wrath and grace. His mind, reeling, struggled to reconcile the radiant, passionate woman he’d come to know with this towering, awe-inspiring being. Fear, a cold tendril, brushed against him, but a profound, almost reverent awe overshadowed it.

  Kleo halted mid-charge, her heart a frantic drumbeat against her ribs, as a flicker of movement caught her eye. Her gaze snapped toward it, and there he stood—Jack. Bloodied, battered, but alive.

  Her breath hitched, her mind reeling, struggling to reconcile the grotesque illusion with the reality before her.

  “No… it can’t be…” she whispered, her voice a fractured echo of disbelief. The raw pain that had fueled her transformation faltered, replaced by a tidal wave of desperate hope. Her trembling hands clenched, the truth a brutal, stunning blow. The lifeless effigy, the crushing despair—all a cruel, calculated lie, a psychic torment woven by the Spider Queen. Tears, hot and stinging, blurred her vision, the weight of her near-loss threatening to shatter her resolve.

  Jack’s eyes, locked on hers, held a complex tapestry of emotions, a silent interrogation. She flinched, her worst fear realized. Her metamorphic form, unleashed in all its terrifying glory, was laid bare before him, a shock she feared he couldn’t withstand.

  Will, standing beside him, wore a mask of horrified reverence. She could only imagine the turmoil raging within Jack—fear, revulsion, regret. Her magic, tethered to her emotional state, began to waver, her confidence crumbling. How could he love me like this? This form, a weapon of divine retribution, was designed to inspire terror, to burn away darkness. She’d sacrificed the one thing she truly needed—Jack’s love.

  Then, a crooked, almost defiant grin spread across his face. His words, a raw, unfiltered declaration, shattered her expectations.

  “Damn,” he growled, his voice thick with admiration. “My wife’s a badass bitch.”

  A jolt of pure, unadulterated power surged through her veins, snapping the world into sharp focus. Her wings, a breathtaking span of light and shadow, flared wide, her grief transforming into a fierce, unyielding resolve. She nodded, her eyes blazing with renewed fire, her lips curling into a predatory smile. “I love you, Jack,” she growled, her voice low and resolute. “We need to finish this.”