The room erupts into chaos faster than I can process what’s happening. One second, Sintra’s standing there looking all smug, like, “I’m about to destroy you with my ultimate power.” Classic villain vibes.

And then? Goblins. Everywhere.

They pour in from the shadows, screeching and wielding weapons that look like they were stolen from a garbage heap.

One of them charges at me with what appears to be a sharpened spatula. Seriously? Who arms goblins with kitchen utensils?

“Greg! They’re attacking!” Bob yells, stating the obvious as he swings his sword like a toddler trying to hit a piñata.

“Yeah, I noticed!” I shout back, ducking under a goblin’s wildly flailing axe. I jab my spear into its side. It yelps and runs off, saying something about unfair advantages.

“We’ve got this!” Bob says, his voice shaking with equal parts determination and panic. He swings his sword again, narrowly missing a goblin’s head. Unfortunately, he also loses his balance and ends up flat on his back.

“You okay down there?” I ask, stabbing another goblin who thought it was a good idea to charge me.

Bob scrambles to his feet, his face red. “I’m fine! Totally fine! Just… strategy. I’m luring them into a false sense of security.”

“Sure you are,” I say, spinning around to block an aggressive goblin armed with a frying pan. “Keep up the good work, Chosen One.”

He narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t respond. Instead, he charges into the fray, yelling something about destiny and honor. It’s almost inspiring—until he trips over a loose stone and faceplants. Again.

I sigh. “Bob, I swear, if you get yourself killed, I’m not filling out the paperwork.”

The goblins are relentless, swarming around us like mosquitoes on a humid day. My spear flashes left, right, and center, keeping them at bay.

But there’s no end to them. One of them actually tries to bite me. Bite me. Who does that?

“Bob!” I yell, dodging another attack. “A little help here?”

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He’s on his feet now, swinging his sword with slightly more precision. “I’ve got this!” he yells back, slicing through a goblin’s crudely made shield. His confidence lasts all of three seconds before another goblin tackles him to the ground.

“Greg! Help!”

I roll my eyes, stabbing the goblin currently trying to grab my spear before sprinting over to him.

With a quick jab, I knock the goblin off his chest and pull Bob to his feet. “You’re welcome,” I say, glaring at him. “Again.”

“I had it under control,” he says, brushing himself off.

“Sure you did.”

We’re holding our ground, somehow, despite Bob’s complete inability to stand upright for more than two minutes. He actually manages to take down a few goblins.

I’ll admit, he looks kind of heroic for a moment… until he swings too hard and his sword flies out of his hand. It lands somewhere in the sea of goblins.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops?” I repeat, jabbing another goblin in the gut. “This is not an ‘oops’ situation, Bob!”

“I’ll get it back!” he says, diving into the swarm of goblins. Because of course he does.

I lose sight of him almost immediately, too busy trying to keep myself alive.

The goblins keep coming.

My arms ache from swinging my spear. I’m about to yell for Bob when I hear a loud, triumphant “Aha!”

He emerges from the chaos, sword in hand, looking overly pleased with himself. “I told you I—”

A goblin tackles him from behind, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes. Again.

I’m about to run to him when the room suddenly goes quiet. Eerily quiet. The goblins freeze, their glowing yellow eyes turning toward the throne. Sintra stands there, her staff glowing with a purple light.

“Enough!” she roars, her voice echoing through the chamber.

The goblins scatter, retreating into the shadows.

I step forward, gripping my spear tightly. “Looks like your minions couldn’t handle us.” I try to sound cocky even though I’m one swing away from collapsing.

Sintra smirks. Her eyes lock onto Bob, who is still struggling to get up. “Oh, they served their purpose,” she says, her tone dripping with smugness. “They distracted you.”

Before I can react, she waves her staff. Purple tendrils of magic shoot out, wrapping around Bob. He yelps, his sword clattering to the ground as he’s lifted into the air.

“Hey!” I shout, charging toward her.

With a flick of her wrist, the tendrils lash out. They slam me against the wall. My spear falls from my hand as I hit the stone hard enough to see stars.

“Greg!” Bob shouts, struggling against the magic holding him.

“Let him go!” I manage to gasp, trying to push myself up.

Sintra laughs, a cold sound that sends a chill down my spine. “Oh, I don’t think so. This one”—she gestures at Bob—“is far too important. You, on the other hand…” Her eyes flick to me, filled with disdain. “You’re just a distraction.”

“Distraction?” I snap, dragging myself to my feet. “Lady, I’m the only reason he’s still alive.”

She tilts her head, considering me. “Perhaps. But that ends now.”

With another wave of her staff, the tendrils tighten around Bob. He lets out a strangled gasp.

Then, Sintra vanishes in a swirl of dark magic, taking Bob with her.

The room falls silent. The goblins are gone. Bob is gone.

I’m standing there. Alone.