Blood poured from the wound in Zatana's chest, staining the dirt beneath her. Her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. Even as darkness closed in on her vision, her fingers twitched—one last desperate desire to take Gargi down with her—but her body refused to obey. The strength bled out of her along with her life.
With a dull thud, she collapsed.
When her eyes fluttered open again, she was no longer lying in the village square. She was somewhere… alien. The air was cold and heavy with a strange metallic scent. Chains—thick, black, and humming with faint runes—wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and waist. They bit into her skin, and every time she flexed her muscles, a searing heat pulsed through them.
She snarled and yanked hard. "These can't hold me! I am Princess Zatana, heir to the purple goblins! I can break anything!"
From the shadows, a calm, mocking voice answered, "Those chains aren't forged from anything you've seen. They're imbued with binding magic. Muscle, poison, or ice—none of it will help you here."
Her teeth ground together. The chains rattled furiously as she pulled again, veins bulging in her arms. Nothing. Her frustration echoed against the cavern walls. Whoever had her captive wasn't in a rush to reveal themselves.
The Last Stand
Meanwhile, in the Green Goblin Village, the battle had turned nightmarish. Without Gargi's leadership, the village defenses were crumbling. Purple goblin zombies—eyes glazed, skin a sickly violet—clawed at the wooden barricades. They poured through breaches like a flood, their claws slashing, their poison fangs snapping at anything in reach.
The defenders fought desperately. Spears jabbed, arrows flew, and blades rang, but for every purple goblin that fell, two more seemed to appear.
The courage of the defenders was fierce but uneven. Against the tide of poison, even the bravest faltered.
A Memory of Leadership
A memory burned in the minds of every soldier still standing. Years ago, when Gargi first took the title of leader, she didn't ignore the doubters. She walked straight into the middle of their circle and said, "I'm not the strongest. I'm not the smartest. But I am the one who's willing to fight for this tribe until my last breath. And I can't do it alone. I need you."
Her humility disarmed them. She didn't just build warriors—she built a community. She established schools, healer's camps, and farms. Slowly, the ones who doubted her began to fight alongside her. And in time, they stopped calling her "half-blood" and started calling her "leader."
The Arrival
That memory fueled their final stand.
"For Gargi! For our home!" they roared.
Even as poison mist swirled through the air and goblins coughed blood, they pushed forward, throwing themselves between the purple horde and the women and children.
A wave of purple zombies surged toward a group of fleeing mothers, their clawed hands reaching. Just as the first one leapt—
WHOOM!
A massive tree branch erupted from the earth like a living spear, sweeping the attackers away and slamming them into the ground.
The defenders froze. The purple goblins turned toward the hill overlooking the battlefield.
Two figures stood there, framed by the setting sun.
One was a tall, handsome man with an easy grin, his black hair tied back, wearing a long coat lined with strange talismans—Ryu Drakheart. At his side stood a broad-shouldered warrior in gleaming armor, a greatsword slung across his back—Leo Drakheart.
Ryu's gaze swept the battlefield. "Looks like we're just in time." He rested his hand on his Dragon Fang hilt. The grin widened.
"Leo," he said.
Leo cracked his knuckles. "Let's make this quick."
Ryu's eyes locked on the purple goblin horde below. His voice was calm, almost casual.
"Let's start the investigation."
To Be Continued…