Fire burned the midnight bright. Every man inside the castle seemed to have been called out into the courtyard. They formed a circle around Sara, each holding a torch that cast their faces in harsh shadows.

It was so quiet she could hear the noises of the distant river. She stood in the middle of the circle, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her gown was too thin to provide any warmth and her slippers felt flimsy against the hard dirt. There was no wind, but the air was laced with the stench of death.

The silence was eerie and stretched on into eternity.

And then, the ring broke. Jamie marched through the gap. He stopped in front of Sara and held out a dagger with a jewel-encrusted handle.

“It will be over quickly,” he said. “The steel is forged in the deepest forges of Cold Castle. It’s sharp enough to cut through stone.”

Sara didn’t move.

“We haven’t got much time,” Jamie said. “Take the blade.”

Sara took a step back. “I... I change my mind. This isn’t what I want.” Tears were stinging the corners of her eyes. She was exhausted and scared and confused, and a million other things.

Jamie’s expression darkened with each second passing. He pinched the blade so hard his arm was shaking. “You gave me your word.”

Sara looked around. The circle was small, made of perhaps twenty or thirty men. They were bare-chested and stood shoulder to shoulder, some still sporting injuries they had sustained on the battlefield.

“I d-didn’t know what you wanted me to do,” she stammered.

“I want you to hold this dagger,” Jamie said. There was no room for argument in his voice, but Sara tried anyway.

“I won’t. This doesn't feel right.”

Her head snapped sideways, pain blurring into shock. Sara blinked. She reached up and touched her cheek, feeling the skin hot and swollen.

“The next one will be worse,” Jamie promised.

Don’t cry. Sara turned away and struggled to get her breathing under control. Don't cry. Not even her mother, with her strict expectations and verbal threats, ever hit Sara like this.

But this prince did. And he wasn’t going to stop there.

With shaking fingers, Sara reached out and found the hilt of the dagger. It felt bumpy, and when she squeezed, the jewels dug into her palm.

“That's better,” said Jamie. He let go of the blade, and the weight of the dagger nearly caused Sara to drop it.

“What sort of prince are you,” she muttered.

Jamie drew his sword. “My men!” His voice echoed across the clearing. “The Prince of Skulls is coming, his numbers a hundred to our one. But we have no room to be afraid. Our blue banners are the last to fly in Arcadia. Should we fall, so will the realm.”

He lifted his sword to the sky. Torchlight gleamed across the metal, bathing it in fire.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“The heavens see this, and have given us a chance to defeat the enemy.”

He dropped the sword toward Sara. “The first Stryde prophesied it. My mad father coward from it. But with me, Arcadia will be saved!”

The circle erupted into cheers. Men pounded their fists against their chests. Standing up straight with their heads held high, their eyes glowed with the same fire from the stars.

“Who shall be the first?” Jamie demanded. “Who among my prized warriors shall live on in history as the saviors of this realm?”

A man on Sara’s right stepped forward. “I will, my prince.”

Jamie stuck his sword in the ground and held his arms out. The man stepped into his embrace.

“Come, champion. Witness the birth of history.”

The man broke away and started coming toward Sara. She ducked past him towards the gap in the circle, making it almost to the edge when Jamie caught her.

“I don’t want any part in your crazy cult!” she yelled, swinging her dagger at him.

“Enough,” Jamie grunted. He slid his arm around Sara’s neck and held her in a death grip.

Sara fought the sob from breaking out of her aching chest. “You’re insane.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jamie. “Were it not for the future of the realm, I would not do this.” He twisted around so Sara was facing the man.

The man walked up to Sara. He towered over her, blocking out the stars. His features were hard, the shadows under his eyes dark. He dropped to one knee, which allowed Sara to look into his eyes.

They were bright with conviction.

“My Lord Prince,” he said. “My realm. My King. For these, I give my life.”

“I’m none of those things,” Sara said. “Doing this helps no one.”

“Honor and wealth shall be your legacy,” Jamie said to the man.

The man rose. “I have no need, Your Highness. Knowing this will bring the Tachelms to their knees is enough.” He reached for Sara. She struggled. It only made Jamie’s hold on her tighter. She heard her shoulder pop, the pain excruciating. She tried kicking, managing a solid hit on the man’s privates.

He did not back down. Reaching for her hand, he gripped the dagger through her fingers, his massive hand enclosing hers.

Fear pounded through Sara’s veins. She kicked again, her feet connecting to what might as well be a statue.

The man lowered Sara’s hand. She closed her eyes. This was it. She contemplated biting her tongue and killing herself, but she remembered reading somewhere that it was actually impossible.

Sara jerked forward, suddenly losing control. She felt the blade sink into something soft. There was the slightest pressure, then nothing. The man’s grip slackened.

Sara counted to five. She opened her eyes.

Blood. Rivers of it, running down the man’s torso. Her breath stuck. There was so much. Red squiggly lines zigzagging across bare muscle and hair, flowing down by her feet. It wasn’t hers. It was coming from the man’s belly button, where his fist was clenched.

The man fell to his knees. His hand slipped away, revealing Sara’s white-knuckled fist gripping the dagger. She couldn’t see any of the steel, only the encrusted hilt sticking from the man’s belly.

She didn’t scream because it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be. She started to pull her hand away.

“No,” Jamie hissed in her ear. “Do not let go. Do not dishonor his sacrifice. You owe him this much, at least.”

The man let out a quiet moan. He fell forward onto Sara’s shoulder, and stopped breathing.

Sara didn’t remember much of what happened next. She remembered crying and trying to turn the dagger on Jamie. When that didn’t work she tried using it on herself. The prince continued his stranglehold, forcing her to watch as one after another, people stood and died in front of her.

Her fingers never left the dagger.

There was something she did notice after her hysteria quietened and she settled into a state of numbness. Under all the chaos, something seemed to be flickering in the corner of her eyes. At first, she thought it was the beginning of unconsciousness, and she welcomed it with open arms. But as more and more bodies piled around her, the flickering remained the same.

They were words, or were they numbers? Sara didn’t read them. But even so, two phrases stood out among the madness, repeating themselves in her ear and drowning out the sound of Jamie hissing for her to stay awake.

They were:

> Ability Point Gained.

And,

> Chaos Total.

As the first rays of sunlight peeked over the castle’s black walls, Sara found herself repeating those two phrases, chanting them like a mantra until finally, she lost consciousness.