The campfire crackled, its orange light dancing across the faces of the gathered princesses, yet the warmth felt artificial against the rhythmic, low-frequency humming of the nearby rift. They sat in a jagged circle, picking at rations that tasted like ash, the silence heavy with the scent of pine and woodsmoke.
Princess Fox stood at the center, her fingers dancing in the air as she began to draw the moisture directly from the humid night mist. A sudden, biting chill radiated from her palms, causing the surrounding grass to crisp with frost. As she pulled her hands apart, the captured water droplets began to crystallize in mid-air, clicking together like microscopic gears. Slowly, the translucent ice took the shape of jagged mountains and deep mine shafts. She flicked her wrists, and tiny, jagged figures of trolls—hunched and terrifying—shimmered into existence, standing in opposition to the delicate, frozen silhouettes of the princesses.
The firelight cast an amber glow across her icy creations, contrasting sharply with the distant, pulsating violet of the floating islands above, which bathed the world in an eerie, eternal twilight. Kneeling by her map, Fox smoothed a miniature ridge of frost. She felt a desperate need to create order—to seize control of her own fate before the chaos of the front lines tore it from her.
"You," Fox called out, her voice projecting a confidence she didn't entirely feel. She looked toward the battalion assigned to her. "The trolls—what strategies do they use?"
A Wendigo stepped forward. His face was obscured by a white bone mask that consisted only of a lower jaw, marking both his species and his mid-grade power. He towered over the young princess by a full five feet, his upper body thick with corded muscle. Fox stared at him as if he were a tiny speck; it was the way of royals to look down on the world until the danger became too real to ignore.
"Their beasts... alone, they act like any other predator," Karl responded, his voice a gravelly rasp. "But when there are multiples, it is chaos. They do not need planning. They are the superior fighters—huge, nimble, and possessed of an endless supply of power. They never tire. And even if they are warring with other factions of trolls, they all hate us."
"If they get their hands on you, kill yourself if you can," added Reb, a Gregorian under Princess Daniela's command. He spat into the dirt, his expression grim. "Trolls fuck most people to death. It's a brutal way to go."
The words hit like a physical blow. "We could run!" Selena cried, her voice cracking. She began incessantly biting at her nails until they bled, seemingly oblivious to the pain. "We don't have to go and die. I don't want to be Queen—not if this is the cost!"
At her words, the Sentinels surrounding the camp bristled. Their hands moved simultaneously to the pommels of their blades, eyes sharp and ruthless. It was a silent, terrifying promise: they would cut her down before she took four steps into the wild.
A glowing beetle landed on Daniela's finger. She felt the tiny, rhythmic prickle of its hooked legs—a light, ticklish scratching against her skin as it climbed toward her knuckle. She watched in quiet fascination as it moved, its iridescent wings shimmering with each gentle flap.
"What makes you think you would survive in the woods?" Daniela asked without looking up. Among them, Selena had the weakest constitution; she was a fire conjurer who had survived thus far on nothing but pure, blind luck.
"Not all of us are worried about survival," Bella muttered, her eyes vacant. She didn't care about the politics or the fighting. She was convinced none of them would make it through the night. "I think I'll go to bed early."
Without waiting for a response, she stepped back into her private carriage, closing the door softly. She curled up beneath her thick furs, ignoring Fox's indignant shouts for her to return.
"Bella! Bella, heavens!" Fox hissed, cursing under her breath.
Heather looked between the remaining princesses, hesitant. She had signed the contract; she was protected. But she was still one of them. "It seems like we need to start the battle with range fighters," she offered quietly. "Anything that can slow them down."
Fox looked toward Bella's carriage one last time before returning her gaze to the ice map. "Finally, someone who wants a plan. Bella's earth magic could help us with the terrain.
This area is mostly flat until it slopes into the mines. She could erect barriers and traps while the rest of us use range attacks. Daniela, you have a significant barrier. We could use that, too—"
Daniela chuckled, finally looking away from the beetle to meet Fox's eyes. "I will do no such thing. My strength belongs to those who have bargained for it. You want my help? You sign."
The guards surrounding the camp went still, watching the standoff. They were curious—and skeptical. To them, Daniela was a cripple without power. They couldn't imagine what she expected them to sign, or why she seemed so confident about rushing into battle without the others.
"I would sign," Selena mumbled, her eyes shifting nervously as gargantuan bees flew overhead, their massive wings vibrating the air with a heavy, bone-shaking drone. "But your contract is far too restrictive. I gain little to no benefit!"
"Restrictive? I think it's quite generous," Daniela countered. "What is your life worth to you?"
"Have you no decency?!" Fox screamed. Her blue eyes began to glow, her power feeding off her mounting fury. A thick fog began to swirl around her as the deep, penetrating cold of her presence hit the warm camp air.
"We need each other to survive! This isn't the time for petty deals. I want to live—I have to live! We are puppets to these men who decide our fates. Toys to be discarded. That is why we are here! A handful of women sent to defend something 'precious' just to remind us how small we are, even while we grasp for a crown."
Daniela remained unmoved by the frost blooming around them. "I'm glad you know the truth. You just learned it a little later than I did. You should sign, Fox. No one will save you but me. I could allow everyone to die, but I am kind enough to save those who have earned the right to live." She paused, her voice softening slightly. "I hope you sign. You are formidable. I would hate for this to be your end."
In the shadows, Jeremiah stayed back, a dimly lit orb floating above his palms. He held an Animite stone in his right hand, its condensed energy fueling the orb as it transmitted a live view of the camp. He wasn't just there to film a battle; he was there to capture the princesses themselves—how they broke under pressure, how they negotiated, and how they bled.
Back in the vampire Kingdom, the assembled sovereigns were watching, and hearing every word spoken.