What happened next should not have happened in the book. This meeting was meant for much later, when Hera had grown strong enough to defend the capital against Lysandra. But somehow, my presence had altered the story.
It wasn't the fact that the heroine was facing the villainess early that terrified me. What truly froze me was the uncertainty; I no longer knew what would happen. I was trapped between two overwhelming forces, and my body had no strength left to fight or even flee.
Clara's single blow had left me broken. My mouth filled with blood; one of my teeth might have shattered... I couldn't tell. The surge of adrenaline numbed everything, but when it faded… the pain would come crashing down. For now, I pushed the thought aside. I would deal with it when it came.
Even the heroine did not move an inch. Her sword trembled in her hands as Lysandra smiled at her with a mocking, almost entertained expression. She looked every bit the ruler of all. And yet, she did not attack.
I knew why. In the book, it had been written that Lysandra was long bored of life. The idea of someone who might one day rival her—someone who could kill her and give her a true fight—was her only fantasy. That was why she never struck down the heroine, even when the chance lay open before her.
Their gazes lingered too long on each other before the villainess finally shattered the silence.
"Little hero, let me take away my loyal subject, and I'll let you and your little friends live. How about that?" She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a sultry laugh, mocking them all.
After all, there was no one stronger than her in this world.
No words followed; it was as if a god had descended to issue a decree. Through my blurred vision, I saw their heads bowed low in shame, in anger, teeth clenched tight. The three of them looked as though they had suffered the most humiliating defeat of their lives.
And yet, it was also their greatest stroke of luck. If Lysandra had willed it, she could have ended the story here with nothing more than the back of her hand.
By some mysterious force, as if magic itself had overtaken the air, I felt my body rise. It was like being cradled in the palm of an invisible cloud. My feet left the ground, and I floated horizontally, carried upward. As Lysandra's shadow receded, I watched my body drift toward the stairs. I was safe. Or so I thought. But for how long? What awaited me now? The uncertainty terrified me.
Just as relief began to take root, that same wave of disgust returned. Then came the pain so excruciating and searing, as something razor sharp sliced beneath me. The unseen force had lifted me only slightly, not enough for my whole body to escape. Steel brushed my back, and with it, the bat-like wings I had only just discovered were severed cleanly from me.
The agony tore through me, and my consciousness slipped away. But before darkness claimed me, I knew who had struck. Hera.
What happened after was a mystery. I don't know how much time passed. What stirred me, barely, was the faint crunch of gravel, the sound of hooves striking earth, and the steady rumble of wooden wheels rolling on.
"Father!" The exclamation pierced my consciousness, the voice of a young boy, or so I thought. "She's waking…"
Where am I? Whose voice is that? What happened to me? My mind spun with question after question, none of which I could answer. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't. Exhaustion weighed me down, so heavy it felt as though I hadn't slept in a week, perhaps longer.
I lay on my back, every inch of it aching, yet I had no strength to turn, no will to move. I didn't know who surrounded me, nor what their intentions were. The uncertainty alone was terrifying.
"Let her rest a little longer. This poor soul was likely ambushed by the local muggers." The reply came in a deep, manly voice: middle-aged, perhaps forty, maybe older.
"Yes, sir," the boy answered respectfully. I could feel him nearby.
"We're close to home. Prepare the fee." The man's voice followed, steady and commanding. Moments later, I felt the horses slow, then halt.
"John, back so fast?" A gentle voice greeted. A female guard? I wondered. In this world, towns often stationed guards at their gates, much like a medieval fantasy, but here, those guards carried power strong enough to crush mountains.
The man only groaned in response, and soon countless footsteps closed in around the cart.
"Who's this?" another man demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion.
"Father and I found this big sister near the forest, close to the border!" the boy exclaimed proudly. I could almost picture the grin on his face. But then his father sighed, low and heavy, and I knew it wasn't a good sign.
"Near the border, you say…" the woman repeated, suspicion creeping into her tone. Her presence drew closer, and I felt her hand brush against my skin. Soft, probing. A shiver of discomfort ran through me as her fingers explored: tracing my arms, my scalp, as if searching for hidden marks. Then she neared my mouth. My body tensed. If she pried it open, she would see them: my fangs, sharp and long, exposing me for what I was.
"She's clean. I already checked." The middle-aged man's voice cut in, firm and authoritative. Who was he? Why was he protecting me?
The woman's hand froze, just before pulling back my lips. If not for his intervention, my secret would have been revealed.
"I see…" she murmured, though a tinge of fear slipped into her voice. I could hear it tremble.
Now I had to know who this man was, and what kind of terrifying aura did he carry, that even city guards dared not question his word?
"You may enter. Have a nice day, John, and little Arthur, of course." The male guard chuckled, and I heard chains rattle, something heavy lifting. A gate, no doubt.
I knew today was my lucky day. But the man's intentions remained a mystery, and that left me wary. What was he planning? What did he want from me?
The moment I regained even a shred of strength, I would be ready to dart away like a bolt of lightning. Until then, I would lie in wait, ready to strike or to flee. Because whatever this man wanted, it could not be anything good.