Just as Finn was about to sprint forward, three more knives swooshed through the air—thunk thunk thunk—landing right where he was about to step.
He froze.
'This woman is insane!' Finn's heart dropped. Whoever this maid was, she had lethal precision. She wasn't just dangerous—she was a walking one-woman raid boss.
Majestria shrieked as the blades hit, hopping around like a frog in lava. "MOVE! DO SOMETHING! GO LEFT, RIGHT—JUST NOT HERE!"
"I'M TRYING!" Finn yelled back, completely lost. If this were a real firefight, he'd have been shot twenty times and teabagged already.
He glanced behind him—and his blood went cold.
Chestelle was gone. Correction: she had turned into a chest. Three knives were sticking out of her lid like toothpicks in a cursed hors d'oeuvre.
And Lickthorn? Hanging from a tree by her belt like she'd just rage-quit life. Limp. Unmoving.
Finn's hope disintegrated.
"Oh god… they're dead," he muttered.
