Thwack!
The leopard beast's paw connected with a sickening force. I was sent flying, crashing through underbrush until my back slammed into a tree trunk. I heard the crack—ribs, maybe more—and hit the forest floor hard. Pain screamed through my leg. My summoned pawn was nowhere in sight, though the path of destruction left behind from her own flight was visible, etched in broken foliage and blood.
System chime.
"Warning: Current stamina 55%. Summoning a Knight or Bishop requires at least 30% mana. You will be left with just 25%. You are approaching physical impairment thresholds. Summoning additional units is strongly discouraged. Use your intelligence stats. You've been acting incredibly dumb lately. Get a grip, girl."
I blinked past the red haze in my vision. Every breath was sharp and stabbing. My lungs felt like they'd been lanced. I tried to rise—then saw it. A bone. Jutting from my shin. The sight was enough to force bile, food, and blood out of me in one disgusting heave.
The pawn returned. Bloodied, limping, her axe and shield in hand. Brave thing. But she was caught—lifted by her head, her limbs dangling, blood dripping from a brutal wound.
"Shit!"
I forced a summon. "Bishop!"
Blackout.
---
I awoke to the gentle stir of dawn and the sound of birds beginning to whisper to the world. My leg no longer protruded with bone, but the ache was unforgettable—proof it happened. I was drenched in water. My maid's outfit was gone, replaced with a simple, oversized shirt. I blinked hard. My mouth tasted like metal and rot, and the pounding in my skull made thought difficult.
The pawn I'd mistaken for Paige was seated against a tree, her eyes shut. She seemed... asleep?
And then—
"You're awake."
It was my voice. But not mine.
I turned.
She stood tall—six feet at least. A glowing white cloak draped her like moonlight, gilded with nature-wrought gold patterns that shimmered as if alive. Her hood was drawn, casting her red eyes in shadow, but there was no mistaking their depth. Not like the pawn. This was something else entirely.
A Ferula—a staff—rested in her hand, golden and ancient-looking. She leaned on it like one might lean on an old memory.
"The sun is about to peek its head," she said, her voice like the chiming of 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 smiled faintly. Tilted her head. Then turned to the lightening sky, the sunrise painting her in warmth she seemed untouched by.
All I could say was:
"...Wow."
She raised a brow. Smiled again. And said nothing.
---
Back at the Castle...
Regina's voice was calm. Flat. Too calm.
"Where is Luna?"
Zoë didn't even look up. She walked past her with a disinterested flick of her wrist.
"I don't know where your maid is."
She paused. Yawned.
"I asked her to retrieve something I dropped in the forest. A pendant. But it seems she ran off. Disobedient little thing."
She gave a half-hearted shrug and walked away, her indifference sharper than venom.