Thwack!
The leopard beast's paw slammed into me with the weight of a falling boulder. I flew through the underbrush, each branch clawing at my skin like fingernails on canvas. My back collided with a tree trunk. A crack—loud, deep—resonated through my chest. Ribs, maybe more. I hit the forest floor hard. Pain flared along my leg, radiating in sharp, white-hot lines.
My summoned Pawn was gone, vanished from sight. The carnage of her flight was still visible—a scarred trail of broken foliage, clawed earth, and blood.
A familiar chime pierced my skull.
System Alert:
"Warning: Current stamina 55%. Summoning a Knight or Bishop requires at least 30% mana. You will be left with just 25%. Approaching physical impairment thresholds. Use intelligence stats. Acting incredibly dumb lately. Get a grip, girl."
Blinking past the red haze in my vision, I drew a ragged breath. Every inhalation stabbed like daggers. My lungs burned. My head throbbed.
I tried to rise—and froze.
A bone jutted grotesquely from my shin. The sight made my stomach revolt. I expelled bile, remnants of breakfast, and blood in one violent, stomach-churning heave.
My Pawn returned, limping, bloodied, axe and shield in hand. Brave, loyal, but caught. Lifted by the head, limbs dangling, crimson dripping from a wound too brutal for words.
"Shit!"
My hands shook. Desperation clawed at my skull. I forced the summon command.
"Bishop!"
Then darkness swallowed me.
---
I awoke to dawn, gentle, merciful. The birds' whispers coaxed the world awake, delicate and oblivious to the chaos of yesterday. My leg no longer protruded with bone, but the ache lingered—a stubborn reminder of pain endured.
Water soaked me through. My maid's outfit was gone, replaced by an oversized shirt that smelled faintly of pine and damp earth. My mouth tasted like iron and rot. My head throbbed, each pulse echoing like a drum inside my skull.
The Pawn I had mistaken for Paige sat against a tree, eyes closed, still. She seemed… asleep?
And then—a voice.
"You're awake."
It was my voice. But not mine.
I spun.
She stood tall. At least six feet. A white cloak draped over her like moonlight, embroidered with golden, nature-wrought patterns that shimmered as if alive. Her hood shadowed her red eyes, but even in darkness, their depth was undeniable. This wasn't the Pawn. This was something else entirely.
A Ferula rested in her hand—ancient, golden, humming faintly with presence. She leaned on it like one leans on a memory that aches and comforts simultaneously.
"The sun is about to peek its head," she said. Her voice was clear, crystalline, each word chiming like silver bells. "What's the plan? We need to return to the castle. You've caused quite the stir, though as a mere maid, perhaps no one will notice."
She tilted her head, smiling faintly, then turned toward the rising sun. Its warmth painted her in gold, yet she seemed untouched, untouchable, ethereal.
I could only manage one word.
"…Wow."
She raised a brow, smiled again, and remained silent. No judgment, no impatience—just quiet power.
---
Back at the Castle
Regina's voice cut through the corridor, calm, flat—too calm.
"Where is Luna?"
Zoë didn't bother looking up. She walked past, casual, her movements deliberate, disinterested.
"I don't know where your maid is," she said, each word a blade sliding across glass.
She paused, yawned, as though the universe itself bored her.
"I asked her to retrieve something I dropped in the forest—a pendant. But it seems she ran off. Disobedient little thing."
A half-hearted shrug. Indifference sharper than any dagger. Then she walked away.
I watched her leave, my chest tight, pulse quickening. Luna's body trembled—not from pain, but from the realization: the forest encounter, the summoned Pawn, the glowing stranger—it all happened under the nose of powers far greater than mine. And if Zoë's indifference was any indication, someone else had been watching, waiting.
I swallowed, tasting iron again, and whispered to the forest, to the dawn, to the lingering threat I couldn't yet see: I'm not done. Not yet.