The leaves and branches shook like eager spectators, their shivering limbs applauding the chaos. Overhead, the moon still swam peacefully in the sky—oblivious, or uncaring.
With terrifying grace, the beast swatted Paige aside like a paper doll. She crashed into a tree and vanished into the underbrush.
I stood alone now, trembling, dagger raised—the Rondel Regina insisted I carry lately feeling like little more than a decoration. My hands shook so badly I thought I'd drop it.
What could I possibly do if Paige—my strongest summon—had just been turned into woodland décor?
And worse, the creature still hadn't fully revealed itself.
That wasn't the Paige you know, the System chimed in, unhelpfully calm. But you can save the questions for after you save your ass.
"What?" I barked mentally. "Then who was that?!"
You summoned Pawn H7.
My stomach dropped. Pawn? Not Paige? Then where—
My thoughts screeched to a halt as the creature stepped into the moonlight.
It was monstrous. A grotesque union of man and leopard, like something a deranged god sculpted mid-nightmare. Muscles rippled under fur-matted armor, its cruel smile gleaming with too many teeth. And worst of all—its eyes. Not animal. Not beast. Human. Intelligent.
I stepped back slowly.
It followed, step for step, its stride taunting me—mocking me.
It raised one massive claw.
I raised my dagger, too late—
And then she appeared again.
"Paige?"
No. No, this wasn't Paige.
She looked like her—like me, even—but darker. Her hair devoured the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Her armor and shield were matte black, unpolished like battlefield steel. Where Paige wore a silver moon emblem, this one bore a crimson one—a blood moon.
She didn't draw a sword. She drove a pike straight into the creature's flank.
The beast let out a strangled roar, stumbling sideways.
This "Paige" grinned, but not kindly. It was the grin of someone who enjoyed this. Who wanted more.
"Hey," she said, sounding exactly like Paige. "What's the plan?"
The stab didn't drop the beast—it only pissed it off.
She kicked off its hide, flipping midair and landing beside me, pike twirling in her hands like a dancer's ribbon.
"I don't think I can solo this," she muttered. "And you don't look like you're gonna be much help."
Her blood-red eyes flicked over to me. I backed up instinctively.
She laughed. "Relax. I'm not the one trying to kill you. He's over there."
The creature snarled and charged. The black-armored pawn clicked her tongue in annoyance and shoved me out of the way. Her weapon morphed—a flicker of light—and now she wielded a halberd, its edge gleaming like obsidian.
She drove it into the monster's thigh, using her size and speed to her advantage, bringing the beast to one knee.
She wasn't playing anymore.
Luna, pull yourself together, the System snapped. You still have mana for one more summon. Another Pawn is possible—but so is the Knight. Even the Rook.
My brain clicked back into gear. My current summon—Pawn H7—had just been flung again, slamming into a massive trunk and lying motionless in the dirt.
"Oh my god," I muttered, brushing leaves off my ruined maid uniform. "Regina is gonna kill me if I die before breakfast."
With shaking hands, I whispered, "Summoning—"
The words caught in my throat as the air around me shimmered with possibilities.
Pawn. Knight. Rook.
The choices pressed on me like weights, each one dangerous, each one irreversible.
Choose fast, the System urged. The beast doesn't wait for ceremony.
The leopard-thing tore the halberd from its own leg, roaring so loud the forest shook. My blackened Pawn—this anti-Paige—skipped back lightly, her grin widening. "Oh, this is fun."
She didn't sound like she was losing. She sounded like she'd been waiting for this all her life.
The creature lunged for me this time, ignoring her entirely.
"Knight!" I screamed. "Summon Knight—!"
The ground split with a thunderclap.
From the soil, armor rose—gleaming in jagged black and white, a figure half-shadow, half-radiance. Its helm bore no eyes, only a slit that glowed faintly with shifting color, like dawn caught in a blade.
The Knight moved without hesitation, stepping between me and death. Its weapon wasn't a sword, but a glaive, sweeping in arcs too fast for my eyes to follow.
Steel met claw.
The impact thundered. Sparks flew like stars torn from the sky.
The leopard-thing staggered, cut deep across the chest, ichor spraying the grass. The Knight advanced, relentless, its movements sharp, sudden, unpredictable. Always a step where you didn't expect.
That was the Knight's gift—chaos dressed as strategy.
Pawn H7 laughed from the sidelines, her halberd spinning again. "Now this is a game."
I stood frozen, dagger clutched but useless, watching as two impossible summons pressed the beast into retreat.
For a moment—just a moment—I believed we might win.
And then the forest moved.
The trees leaned in closer, their trunks groaning. The earth shifted underfoot. From the shadows, more eyes opened—red, unblinking, dozens of them.
The leopard-thing wasn't alone.
And Zoë Windsor's voice whispered in my memory: Do return before the cusp of sunrise.
The sun was still far away.