Grump stepped back. Chester and Caterpillar reached us just as I nocked my first arrow.
I drew the string back, feeling the bow hum beneath my fingers. Power surged through me—ancient, impossible power.
"Six impossible things before breakfast. One—there is a place called the Elder Dimension."
I released.
The arrow sang through the air and embedded itself between the double doors. A ripple of golden light shimmered across the wood.
I nocked a second arrow.
"Two—a hat can force you to tell the truth."
The arrow flew, lodging below the first. Another ripple—stronger this time.
"The witch becomes the weapon,” Chester said. “How delightful."
Caterpillar exhaled a curl of blue smoke. "Impossible... only means... not yet done."
I nocked a third arrow, their words fueling my fire.
"Three—weapons pick you."
The arrow struck. The doors groaned.
"Four—harpies can be tamed."
The fourth arrow hit. Cracks of light spiderwebbed across the surface.
"Five—I can freeze time."
The fifth arrow struck. The doors shuddered, magic fighting magic.
I nocked my final arrow. Drew the string to my cheek. This was for Darius. For us.
"Six—love can survive madness.”
I released.
The arrow blazed with golden light as it struck.
The doors exploded inward with a deafening crack.
Smoke billowed into the throne room, swallowing the pink decorations, the glittering stars, the sea of gasping courtiers. Screams of terror rang in my ears. Glass shattered somewhere.
I stepped through the ruined doorway, another arrow already nocked in my bow.
The smoke began to dissipate, curling away like a curtain being drawn back.
And there I stood.
Not the broken prisoner they'd dragged from the dungeon. Not the sobbing girl they'd left hanging in chains.
A warrior. A witch. One of the Uncrowned.
Grump flanked my right, Darius' sword gleaming in his massive fist. Chester materialized on my left, his golden eyes blazing, his grin sharp as a blade. The sweet scent of Caterpillar's smoke curled around me from behind—he was there. Ready.
The throne room fell silent. Hundreds of faces stared at us—nobles frozen in terror, servants cowering behind pillars.
