Page 38 of Gargoyle Defender

The young man retrieved an ornate blade from the satchel, its edge gleaming unnaturally bright in the chamber’s dim light. Archer accepted it with reverence, then dipped it into the golden liquid. The blade absorbed the shimmering substance, the metal taking on an ethereal glow that pulsed in rhythm with Tanner’s heartbeat.

“This will be painful,” Archer warned, his face grim as he approached the table. “For both of you.”

Ronen nodded, his jaw clenched. “I don’t care. Just save them.”

Archer positioned himself at Tanner's side, the glowing knife held steady in his hand. “I need to cut through the corruption directly. The blade will seek out the darkness and burn it away, but the process...” He hesitated, his eyes meeting Ronen’s. “It will feel like fire in his veins.”

“Do it.” His voice came out stronger than he felt.

Ezekiel placed a steadying hand on Ronen’s shoulder. “Brace yourself.” Archer didn’t hesitate. He pressed the glowing blade against Tanner's abdomen directly over where their child grew. The knife didn’t cut the skin—instead, it sank through as if Tanner’s flesh were water, leaving no wound behind.

Pain exploded in Ronen’s body. White-hot agony seared through his veins, a burning inferno that started in his core and radiated outward. He gritted his teeth, refusing to break contact with Tanner despite the overwhelming urge to recoil.

Through their connection, he experienced Tanner’s consciousness flare with pain—a silent scream that reverberated through their bond.

“Hold him steady,” Archer commanded, as he guided the blade deeper. “We’re close. I refuse to allow these evil fuckers to win.”

Archer’s words struck Ronen like a physical blow. His emotions had been in charge, holding him in a grip of fear. His lack of control had given Victor the upper hand and interfered with his ability to help guide Tanner back to the light. But not anymore. His spirit rejected the fear of failure, embracing the conviction that evil would never prevail.

Ronen channeled all his strength into that belief, sending it through their connection as a lifeline for Tanner to grasp. “I’m here with you,” he whispered. “We’re stronger than this darkness."

Through the pain, Ronen sensed a flicker of response—Tanner’s consciousness reaching back toward him, faint but fighting. The darkness recoiled from the blade, writhing like a wounded animal.

“There,” Archer murmured, his face shining with sweat. “The corruption is retreating from the child. Now we must purge it from Tanner completely.” Archer’s hands remained steady as he guided the glowing weapon, his forehead beading with sweat. “The hold on your child is weakening.”

Through their bond, Ronen noticed a flutter—faint but unmistakable. This was the essence of their child, still fighting, still alive.

“I can feel our baby,” Ronen gasped.

Ezekiel nodded, smiling. “Your baby is fighting alongside us. Nephilim essence is stronger than they anticipated.”

The knife in Archer’s hand glowed brighter, its light spreading through Tanner's body. The balance had tipped as light overwhelmed shadow.

“It’s working,” Ezekiel breathed, his hand still on Archer’s shoulder.

Jonah hurried around the table, setting up crystal vials in a circular pattern around them. “The containment field is ready.”

Archer nodded without taking his eyes off Tanner. “Once I extract the last of the corruption, we need to trap it immediately. This filth won’t simply dissipate. It’ll seek another host.”

Ronen held his breath as Archer sliced the blade through the final pocket of darkness. The corruption gathered like a storm cloud above Tanner’s body, swirling and hissing with malevolent energy. Jonah began chanting in an ancient language, his hands raised toward the crystal vials surrounding the table. The evil essence twisted violently, as if sensing its impending capture.

“Now!” Archer commanded, pulling the blade from Tanner’s body in one swift move.

The darkness surged upward in an attempt to escape, but the crystals flared to life, creating a web of golden light that trapped the evil essence within its boundaries. The corruption shrieked—a sound that existed not in the air but somehow inside Ronen’s mind, clawing at his consciousness. The crystals pulsed brighter until the darkness condensed into a swirling mass at the center of their formation.

With a final surge of light, the dark matter was pulled into the crystals, the vials turning obsidian black as they contained the shadow essence they’d fought against for centuries. The room fell silent except for the ragged breathing of everyone present.

Ronen gazed down at Tanner. Through their connection, he sensed his mate’s spirit growing stronger, no longer retreating but pushing forward, fighting to return.

“Tanner?” Ronen whispered, his voice hoarse.

Beneath his palms, Tanner stirred. His eyelids fluttered, a soft moan escaping his lips as consciousness returned. Ronen’s heart raced as he leaned closer, searching Tanner’s face for any lingering signs of his ordeal. “Tanner? Can you hear me?”

Tanner’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then settling on Ronen’s face. Recognition dawned in those hazel depths, followed by a flash of confusion.

“Ronen,” he whispered, his voice rough and weak. “What... happened?” He furrowed his brow. “Did you get them? My hack worked?”

Ronen stroked Tanner’s cheek, the warmth returning to his mate’s skin filling him with relief. “You did a wonderful job. But Victor tricked us,” he said, his voice catching. “The attack on the facility was meant as a distraction. His true goal was to corrupt you, take you as his own.”