Leonard stood in the shifting battlefield, his blade slick with the black ichor of creatures that should not exist. The hall pulsed around him, breathing like a living organism, a cage made of shadow and laughter. Her laughter.

The realization clawed at his gut. He wasn’t fighting to survive. He was fighting because she willed it.

His grip on his weapon tightened. He hated this.

Being trapped, being a pawn in someone else’s amusement—it made his skin crawl. He had spent his entire life carving out his own existence, forcing the world to bow to his survival. And now?

Now he was nothing but a performer in a show he hadn’t agreed to.

Another wave of the monstrous things came, their grotesque limbs stretching unnaturally, their hollow eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. They weren’t real—not in the sense that they lived. They were extensions of her, of this place.

She was testing him.

Leonard exhaled, a slow, measured breath. Fine. If she wanted to play, then he’d play.

He moved, blade flashing through the creatures, tearing through them like a storm of steel and blood. The air filled with the sickening stench of their deaths, but it meant nothing.

Because they would return.

They always did.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?”

Her voice coiled around him like silk and smoke, curling through the cracks of his mind. Leonard didn’t stop fighting, didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. But he could feel her smile.

“You hate it, don’t you?” she purred, her voice everywhere, nowhere. “Not the fight. No, no, no. You love that part. But being played with? Being caged? Now that… that’s unbearable, isn’t it?”

Leonard ripped through another beast, ichor splattering across his face. He wouldn’t answer.

She giggled, the sound sliding through his ribs like a knife. “You’re holding back.”

Leonard froze for a fraction of a second—

A mistake.

The shadows lunged. They were waiting for that moment.

Tendrils of darkness wrapped around his limbs, tightening with unnatural strength. They slithered across his skin, pressing into his flesh, as if tasting him.

He struggled. Fought. The grip was vice-like, pulling him down, pulling him into something deeper.

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“Stop resisting,” she sighed. “You’re so much more fun when you lose control.”

The darkness poured into him.

Leonard gasped, his body convulsing as the abyss clawed at him, forcing something into his mind.

Memories that weren’t his.

Pain that wasn’t his.

Death that wasn’t his.

He saw himself standing on mountains of corpses, his hands soaked in red and black, human and monster. The scent of burning flesh filled his lungs. Was this the future? The past? Was she showing him something or creating something new?

Leonard growled, forcing the visions back. Not this time. He had spent too many years fighting for control over himself, over his life.

No one would take that from him again. Not even her.

His power surged, tendrils of his own energy snapping out, tearing through the shadowy binds. They recoiled as if wounded.

He landed on his feet, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Enough!”

The hall shuddered. The creatures froze.

And for the first time, she was silent.

Then, a slow, pleased hum. “Oh, you are interesting.”

The battlefield collapsed.

The creatures disappeared.

The throne room returned.

Leonard stood there, chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. Still on edge. Still ready.

The woman sat elegantly on her throne, studying him like one might admire a newly sharpened blade.

“You passed.”

Leonard didn’t respond. He refused to play into her games.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. Smiling. “You’re not like the others.”

His jaw clenched. “Others?”

“Oh, dear.” She laughed, the sound velvety and mocking. “You think you’re the first to entertain me?”

Leonard didn’t move, but something cold slithered down his spine. How many before him? How many had played and lost?

She stood, stepping down from her throne, her movements graceful, unnatural. “But you… you are something new.”

The air between them crackled. Leonard knew better than to be flattered. This wasn’t admiration. This was curiosity.

And that might be even worse.

She smiled wider. “Shall we raise the stakes, then?”