The Breaking Point
When Regina opened her eyes again, everything was wrong.
The first thing she noticed was the silence—not the quiet after a battle, but an oppressive, suffocating stillness that made her skin crawl. She sat up slowly, her head pounding as though she’d been struck by a hammer.
“Emma?” she called, her voice hoarse.
There was no answer.
Panic set in immediately. Regina scrambled to her feet, her armor feeling heavier than ever. The battlefield was gone. Instead, she stood in the middle of a desolate, gray wasteland. The sky above was a dull, lifeless expanse, with no sun, no clouds, just… nothing.
“Emma!” Regina shouted again, her voice echoing into the emptiness.
Her heart raced as she turned in every direction, searching for any sign of her lover. There was nothing—no bodies, no remnants of the battle, not even the pendant that had been around Emma’s neck.
“What the fuck is this?” Regina muttered, her fists clenching at her sides.
A low, chilling laugh echoed behind her, and Regina spun around, her sword instinctively drawn. The weapon felt foreign in her grip now, as if even it didn’t belong in this strange, twisted place.
The laughter grew louder, surrounding her. Shadows began to form in the distance, slithering toward her like living tendrils of smoke.
“You couldn’t save her,” a voice hissed from the darkness. It was deep, mocking, and far too familiar. “All your power, and she still died in your arms.”
Regina’s grip tightened on her sword. “Shut the fuck up.”
The shadows coalesced into a figure—a twisted mockery of the brute she had destroyed. Its ember-like eyes burned with malice as it loomed over her.
“Your grief is delicious,” it sneered. “You’ve already given me so much. Why not let me take the rest?”
Regina didn’t hesitate. She charged at the figure, her sword cutting through the air with deadly precision. But the blade passed through the shadow harmlessly, and the creature laughed again.
“You can’t fight me,” it taunted. “I am your pain, your rage, your fear. I’m everything you are.”
Regina screamed in frustration, swinging her sword again and again, but it was no use. The creature remained unharmed, its laughter growing louder with each failed strike.
“Where is she?” Regina demanded, her voice shaking. “What did you do to her?”
The shadow tilted its head, as if amused. “She’s gone, little knight. And you’ll never find her. Not here.”
Regina fell to her knees, thinking back as far as she could.
Flashback
Regina didn’t know how long she knelt there, cradling Emma’s body. Time had ceased to mean anything. The battlefield had emptied, and the eerie quiet felt like a cruel joke. Blood soaked into her armor, warm at first, now cold as her tears fell onto Emma’s lifeless face.
“Emma, please…” Regina’s voice was raw, broken. “Wake up. Don’t do this to me.”
She shook her gently, as if that would stir her awake, but Emma’s golden hair lay limp across her bloodied cheek. Her lips, once so full of fire and clever quips, were pale and unmoving.
“This isn’t fair!” Regina screamed, her voice echoing across the wasteland. “You’re supposed to fight with me! You’re supposed to fucking live!”
Her hands gripped Emma’s armor, shaking her now with desperation. She had seen death a thousand times, but this… this was different. The love of her life wasn’t supposed to die.
The shadow brute had been destroyed in her fury, but it hadn’t mattered. Nothing mattered now.
“You are stupid, reckless woman,” Regina choked, her forehead pressing against Emma’s. “Why did you always have to be the hero?”
Regina closed her eyes, the weight of her grief pulling her under. Images of Emma filled her mind—her laugh echoing through their tent during quiet moments between battles, the way her lips had felt against Regina’s neck the night before they rode to war, her whispered promises in the dark.
Regina’s chest tightened painfully. “You promised me forever.”
The pendant around Emma’s neck began to glow faintly. Regina noticed it through her tears, but it did not register as important. She was too consumed by her anguish to care.
But the light grew brighter, pulsing in time with Regina’s sobs.
A deep, guttural roar echoed across the battlefield, though no creature stood before her. The sky darkened further, the storm clouds swirling violently above. Regina felt something crack inside her—something she couldn’t control.
The rage came first. It burned through her veins, hotter than anything she had ever felt. It surged through her limbs, turning her grief into raw, unrelenting power.
The ground beneath her began to tremble.
“I won’t let you take her!” Regina screamed into the void, her voice carrying a force that wasn’t entirely her own. “Do you hear me? She’s mine!”
The pendant around Emma’s neck shattered, and the world erupted into blinding light.
Her sword slipping from her grasp. Tears streamed down her face as the weight of the creature’s words crushed her.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re lying.”
The shadow leaned closer, its voice a cold whisper in her ear. “You already failed her once. How many times will you let her die before you break completely?”
Regina’s hands clenched into fists. Her grief turned to fury once more, but this time, it didn’t erupt in light. Instead, it simmered, a dangerous, slow-burning fire that promised retribution.
“I will find her,” Regina said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “And when I do, I’ll destroy you.”
The shadow laughed again, but this time, it faded into the darkness, leaving Regina alone in the desolate wasteland.
She stood slowly, retrieving her sword. Her legs felt weak, but she forced herself to move forward.
“Emma,” she whispered, the name a vow and a prayer. “I’m coming for you.
Regina trudged through the wasteland, each step heavier than the last. The landscape stretched endlessly before her, an expanse of gray dust and jagged black rocks under a dead, pale sky. There was no sun, no stars—just an oppressive, featureless haze that seemed to press down on her like a weight.
Her throat burned with thirst, her armor chafed against her skin, and the grief gnawed at her insides like a living thing. But she kept moving. She didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t care. Forward was the only option.
The sword at her side felt like both a comfort and a curse. She couldn’t bring herself to abandon it—it was part of her, a symbol of everything she’d fought for. But here, in this world, it marked her as something alien. A knight without a kingdom, without a cause.
By the third day, the exhaustion was unbearable. Her armor had grown too heavy, and every step felt like dragging a mountain behind her. She finally collapsed against a jagged boulder, the cold, sharp edges biting into her back.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice hoarse.
With trembling hands, she began to unfasten the straps of her armor. The chestplate fell away with a metallic clang, followed by her gauntlets and greaves. She left her undershirt on, sweat-soaked and clinging to her body, but her leggings were ripped and stained with dirt and blood.
Her sword was the last thing she removed, and even that felt like tearing a piece of herself away. She hid the weapon and her armor in the crevice of a nearby rock, covering them with dust and loose stones. She couldn’t risk anyone—or anything—finding them.
Without her armor, Regina felt exposed, vulnerable. The cold air bit at her skin, but she welcomed it. It made her feel alive, which was more than she could say for the rest of her.
“Where the hell am I?” she whispered to no one.
The Town
By the fifth day, Regina stumbled upon something she hadn’t dared to hope for: a settlement.
It wasn’t much—a cluster of ramshackle buildings made of warped wood and rusted metal, surrounded by a makeshift wall of scrap. Smoke rose from the center, and she could hear faint voices, though she couldn’t make out the words.
Regina hesitated, her hand instinctively reaching for the sword that wasn’t at her hip. She cursed under her breath, the absence of her weapon like a phantom pain.
The town looked like it had seen better days. The walls were patched with bits of cloth and discarded armor, and the gates—if they could even be called that—were little more than a pair of planks tied together with frayed rope.
Regina’s stomach growled loudly, reminding her of how long it had been since her last meal. She hadn’t eaten anything since waking in this strange world.
“Nothing to lose,” she muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around herself and stepping toward the gate.
Inside the Town
The stares began the moment she entered.
Regina wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. The townrs were ragged, their clothes patched and torn, their faces hollow with hunger. They eyed her suspiciously, their gazes lingering on her height, her strong build, and the way she carried herself.
“Who’s this?” a voice drawled from her left.
Regina turned to see a man leaning against a barrel, a knife twirling in his hand. He was thin, with sunken cheeks and eyes that gleamed with amusement—or malice. She couldn’t tell which.
“Just passing through,” Regina said, her voice low and even.
The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Passing through? There’s nothing past here but wasteland, sweetheart. You’re either lost or running from something.”
Regina clenched her fists but said nothing.
The Pub
The pub was as grim as the rest of the town, its walls stained with years of smoke and spilled drinks. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol, and the patrons were a rough-looking crowd.
Regina found an empty corner and sank onto a rickety stool, keeping her head down. She didn’t want to draw attention, but she couldn’t afford to pass up the chance to rest and gather information.
A woman approached her—a barmaid, by the looks of it. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and her sharp eyes swept over Regina with thinly veiled curiosity.
“Drink?” the woman asked, setting a mug down without waiting for an answer.
Regina nodded and reached for the mug. The liquid burned her throat, but it was warm, and it dulled the edge of her hunger.
“What brings you here?” the barmaid asked, leaning against the table. Her tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—interest, maybe, or suspicion.
“Looking for someone,” Regina said simply.
The barmaid arched a brow. “Good luck with that. People who come here don’t stay long. Either they move on, or they disappear.”
Regina met the woman’s gaze, her voice steady. “I don’t plan on disappearing.”
The barmaid smirked. “Suit yourself.” She turned to leave but paused, her eyes flicking back to Regina. “You might want to watch your back, though. Not everyone here is friendly.”
The Stranger
Regina stayed in the corner long after the barmaid left, nursing her drink and listening to the low murmur of conversation around her. Most of it was meaningless—complaints about the lack of food, rumors of strange creatures in the wasteland—but one voice stood out.
“...new face in town. Might be trouble.”
Regina tensed, her hand instinctively going to her side.
She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto a woman seated at a nearby table. She was tall and lean, with sharp features and dark, piercing eyes. Her leather armor was patched and worn, and a dagger was strapped to her thigh.
The woman’s gaze met Regina’s, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across her lips.
“You look lost,” the woman said, her voice low and smooth.
Regina straightened, her hand dropping from her side. “And you look nosy.”
The woman laughed, the sound surprisingly genuine. “Fair enough. Name’s Morrigan.”
Regina hesitated. “Regina.”
Morrigan leaned back in her chair, studying her with an intensity that made Regina’s skin prickle. “You’ve got the look of someone who’s been through hell. This your first time in a shithole like this?”
Regina snorted. “You could say that.”
Morrigan’s smile widened. “Well, stick with me, and you might survive a little longer. Or don’t. Makes no difference to me.”