Cove and Sinbad strode ahead, following Shahrazad’s presence. Sinbad’s footsteps were light, nearly silent on the stone hallway floor. What had become the usual tension lined Cove’s shoulders, his footsteps hurried and impatient. Neither seemed to notice the weighty gaze that still lingered, even after we’d long since passed from sight.
Perhaps it was only in my mind.
If she dies, it’s your fault.
A chill snuck up my spine. At my shiver, Ani bumped his head against my face. I found myself leaning into the gesture, taking comfort from his care. In the stolen moments between battle encounters, perhaps I could have reached out and shared the information gleaned from my dream with mental magic.
I did not.
Instead, even as an image of Sera’s disappointed face haunted me, I allowed myself to be distracted by the flow of battle. I followed closely on the heels of Sinbad and Cove, switching to the gunslinger class to deliver devastating attacks against the enemies that stood before us as Shahrazad’s men finished them off.
And then, the decision was removed from my hands entirely.
Cove, walking slightly ahead as our navigator, perked up, lifting his hand for us to pause. His eyes fluttered shut, and I caught the faintest whiff of ocean salt as his power blanketed us.
His eyes snapped back open, frown lines on his face deepening as the blue of his eyes turned to ice. “He’s got the book.”
It felt as though I’d injected a monster energy drink directly into my veins.
“W-”
Cove whirled around tightly on his heel, taking off at an inhuman speed down the hallway, Ranch still clinging to his shoulders.
“-ho?” Sinbad’s question was left behind to linger in the air as we followed, skirting along the edges and sprinting past the soldiers on both sides of the war who battled in the wide-open hallway that led to the central area of the castle. Without needing to speak, I pulled ahead, following a pull that grew stronger and stronger with each step I took. The world tilted briefly, and I had to remove myself from the dream that threatened to pull me in. Shahrazad and the fragment must have been getting close.
I hardly had time to admire the massive gold-plated door to the throne room as we passed, skidding across the red carpet that led across the opulent room and up the neon-lit stairs of the dias to the uncomfortable-looking wooden throne that hovered above. The entire room was stunning, obviously straight from a video game, a mixture of ancient Persian and medieval architecture.
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To our right, backlight by gigantic arching stained-glass windows that cast a kaleidoscope of colors through the room, Cove and Shahrazad were caught in the vice grips of two helmeted guards as a figure held an open book before them.
“You…” Sinbad’s accusation hung in the air, buoyed by disbelief.
The hand holding the book Shahrazad so carefully guarded dipped slightly as the perpetrator reached out with his other hand, pressing a palm against Shahrazad’s angry face.
“See? This is why you need someone who has the brains to use tools as they should be used,” John Smith said as he patted her cheek gently.
“It’s not meant to be used that way!” Sharazad protested, throwing herself forward.
John reclined back, a nasty smirk crossing his face. “It’s meant to be used exactly this way,” he said, his eyes darting to where Sinbad and I stood, surprised.
“As if I would ever allow her to give you something so precious,” he said, his voice dripping with venom as he lifted the book to his face.
Whatever he was planning, neither Sinbad nor I would give him the chance. I raised the gun in my hand, finger-pulling the trigger as Sinbad pulled his machete back, the blade balancing between my fingers like an oversized throwing knife.
“Sinbad and Hayden’s shots went wide,” he narrated, as my shot and Sinbad’s throw did just that. They shattered the stained glass window, shards raining and scattering against the floor.
“Realizing their attempts would be useless, they surrendered and allowed themselves to be thrown on the floor.”
Against my will, my body moved of its own accord, vanishing the gun back into the inventory and standing still as two of the soldiers–or guards, I never cared enough to figure out their placements–grabbed Sinbad and me roughly by the shoulders, dragging us next to Cove.
My knees stung as they threw me roughly to the ground, the hands still attached to my shoulders, bracing me so I knelt beside Cove and before John.
No matter how much my brain screamed at me to move, I was trapped once more in my own body, unable to move as I wanted.
No!
“As Shahrazad looked into John’s eyes, she slowly realized the error of her ways,” John continued. Nervously, I watched the other entrances as he continued, waiting for this to shift to the events of my dream.
“She appreciated everything John had done for her, how he’d followed her orders to the letter and without question. His sharp wit, his roguish grin, and,” he said, his eyes focusing on her lips, his face drawing closer to hers, “his lips,” the wall behind the throne shifted, an invisible door opening.
John didn’t notice.
The pinkish sunlight filtering in through the broken shards of glass caught on something metal, and a loud BANG echoed through the throne room.
The book slid from his hands, and John toppled to the ground, dead. Soldiers marched forward from the passageway nervously, and the shadows parted around the Mad King.