“Princess Idalia,” he gasps. “Come with me! Let my men destroy this nasty beast and return you to safety!”

Something deep inside me warns me not to move. Something else implores me to collect on the promise of safety and continue my journey to Aeradian. The strongest part of me, the most overwhelming, demands that I fight.

I let the overwhelming part win.

I rush the guard and swing my blade down. It catches his shins, and he drops with a thud. The other men’s faces contort in confusion.

A sound I don’t recognize barrels forth from my throat as I clash my blade against that of another guard.

He swiftly parries, but my counter is faster. With an efficient circular motion, I disarm him. His eyes dart to his blade lying in the dirt, then flash to me.

“What are you doing, Princess?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, then swiftly send my blade towards him.

He doubles over and grabs his stomach. My hands flush with heat, but it’s no longer pain; it now guides me.

Two other men approach from opposite sides.

I’ve trained with the King's Guards and faced off against my father, but I’ve never seen actual combat.

The wave of heat pulls me into a hunched position just as a guard swings mightily above my head. I tuck into a roll and shift inches to the right. I hear a grunt, and my ears ring with the dull thump of another blade as it lands heavily on the spot I’d barely moved from. It nearly sliced me in half.

I flip to my back and block the sword coming for my throat. Our blades clang, and the guard’s face twists in fury.

“Traitorous whore!” He shouts, and his spittle sprays my cheeks.

I’m shaking and know I can’t hold this position for much longer. I surrender to the power that compelled me to fight. I close my eyes, and my entire body listens. An intense force engulfs my legs, and I kick in a fluid motion.

My feet solidly connect with the man’s knees, and he stumbles, allowing me enough space to push myself away and rise.

He grunts then advances. We parry, and I feel his skill and strength begin to outweigh mine. I can’t last much longer in this fight. I won’t…

A blade flies into the guard’s throat, and blood splatters across my face.

He grabs the handle and chokes as he retracts the blade. His eyes veil over. Clutching his neck, he collapses to his knees, then slams face-first onto the path.

Torrent stands over him, a grizzled scowl ebbing from his face. He nods at me. A brief acknowledgment, a truce. He then braces himself to take on the seeming red avalanche of soldiers tearing towards us.

My arms are heavy. I know when, not if, the next guard attacks, I’ll lose. I shift my weight to my heels and lift and hold my sword ready. I’m prepared to fight. And die. I mumble a swift request to the Lady and the Guard that they accept me into the Great Lands.