I charge through the castle doors, preparing for the angry growls of the dragon, for the hellfire spat from its fanged mouth. With my blade thrusted forward, I aim where the beasts’s heart should be, where I should pierce through its coarse, layered scales. Fear eludes me, for I have challenged far more sinister enemies.

But my battle cry echoes, ricochets off the walls, reaches through the windows to the blackened sky. No large monstrosity takes up space, blocking all who enter. No wings splayed out, absorbing my sound.

The castle is empty.

This opportunity before me is something I should savor, something I should be reveling in. This quest has become a simple errand, as nothing is preventing me from finishing it. I break out in joyous laughter, and hear it climb the turrets, slide past each brick. I am not going to perish like so many knights before me.

A thump cuts me off. It’s loud like the stomp of a demanding foot. Another thump follows, then another. The wet, floppy flesh of meat discarded. A sound calling me back to when the king’s cook rids of spoiled food and feeds it to the wolves in the forest. It comes from the princess’s room, where I was told she was kept.

“Fair maiden, I have come to rescue you!” I boast, chest puffed. I take off my helmet and slick back the strands that stick up, smooth down the baby hairs. The confidence I had with me on the trails wavers as a lie patiently in wait. Sweat slicks my steel armor, the base of my sword.

All for no answer but the repetition of thumps.

“Princess!”

Finally, a reply, “Yes? Who is it?”

“It’s Sir Drake! I’m here from the kingdom of Sulvania!”

“Oh really? Well then, come on up! I want to meet whatever handsome man was brave enough to rescue me!”

I bound up the winding steps with hope, refusing to hesitate even as I almost trip. Then, the smell comes on. It’s rotten, foul, and curling like a old crone’s finger around me.

“Are you coming in or not, brave knight?”

“Yes, I’m coming. Just…” my mind fails to think of a plausible excuse, “adjusting my armor! Yes, I’m adjusting my armor!”

When I enter, I am hit with a wave of wretched odor. It is not coming from the princess herself, for her hair is smooth and shiny with little curls at the ends. Her smile is white, with its beauty of joy, and her dress is made of the finest black silks. She is well groomed, but where else could this repulsive scent come from?

She stands, ready to thank me when she says,

“You’d think a knight would recognize the smell of dead bodies. But I guess not.”

That’s when I see the doll in the princess’s lap, a sewing needle poised with its sharpest point at its chest.

A stab aimed at my heart. Then another.

“Princess…what are you doing?” My knees collapse, and I kneel as if in submission. I am able to keep the blood at bay.

“Why must they always send the stupid knights my way?” She opens the balcony doors to the large pile of dead bodies reaching higher for the sky. The same wound mirrors onto each corpse: four lacerations to the chest. No more, no less. “If that pig of a king wants me back, then he shouldn’t send people to hound me!”

Another stab, and there is too much blood. I cannot stop it. With minimal stamina, I crawl, and I am able to take in more details. A crystal ball shines with promise on the night stand. Amethysts are hung on twine above the bed, warding off all who dare to harm. Muting the smell of death is vanilla from the incense the princess begins to light.

“We were told a dragon was keeping you here! Are you even a princess at all?”

“The dragon is long gone, knight,” she says. “And what kind of foolish question is that?! Of course I am of royal blood! I just rule a different kind of people.” Her fingers swirl, and a ball of purple light blooms from her palm. Triumph glows in her eyes, and her white smile isn’t beautiful anymore.

“No…you can’t! You will not strike me down with a stupid—“

A fourth stab, and I’m unable to groan in the sharp, unending pain. I only have the strength to lie on my back, vision swimming, muscles tensing. I can see splotches of the world around me, glimpses of the princess pacing around my body as if studying a strange, disgusting creature.

“I could strike you down with something worse, but I am not _that_ cruel.”

“But you’re…cruel with…”

“With what, honey?” She coos, like the calming a petulent child.

Lies.

Once I close my eyes, she hauls me away by the ankles. With my armor weighing me down, it doesn’t take long for her to need a breath. She persists in dragging me in small increments, once inch at a time.

I would let my mind race with escape routes, plans to thwart her grasp, but it is blank. It already knows that either way, I become another disgusting, festering body in the pile, cast aside with a loud thump.