Page 36 of Off with Her Head
But worse are the things that have no clear origin—masses of corruption given partial form, crawling or slithering or undulating across the battlefield. They leave trails of black slime that ruins whatever it touches, turning grass to ash, flowers to petalless stems.
"She's not controlling these ones," I realize, horror mounting. "They're pure evil given independence."
"Autonomous infection," Scarlett agrees grimly. "Each capable of spreading the illness without Mara's direct involvement."
Through our connection, I feel Scarlett's protective fury rising—not just for her subjects, but for her kingdom itself. Underland may be chaotic, may be bizarre by any conventional standard, but it is a chaos born of creativity and possibility, not of corruption and decay. What Mara brings is anathema to everything Underland represents.
I find my own anger rising to match Scarlett's.
"We need to join the battle directly," I say, already drawing my ritual knife. "Your card-soldiers can hold the line, but they can't counter the corruption itself."
Scarlett nods, her green eyes now prominently streaked with blue. "Together, then."
She raises her arm, and a nearby card-soldier snaps to attention. "Bring our mounts," she commands.
Within moments, two creatures approach—for Scarlett, a massive chess knight that moves in impossible L-shaped bursts of speed; for me, one of Underland's black panthers, its eyes glowing with vengeance, its fur absorbing light like the shadows of Darkmore.
We mount swiftly, our coordination perfect despite having never ridden into battle together before. Our growing bond makes words unnecessary as we direct our mounts toward opposite flanks of the defensive line, planning to create a crossfire of combined magic.
The panther moves beneath me, its muscles rippling with contained power.
As we reach position, I slash my palm with the ritual knife, letting blood flow freely. The familiar burn of sacrifice ignites my power, but now it feels different—fuller, and more balanced.
Across the battlefield, I see Scarlett raise her scepter, magic swirling around her in patterns of red and gold. Our eyes meet briefly, and understanding passes between us without words. In perfect synchronization, we direct our magics toward the advancing legion.
Where my blood magic strikes, dark sigils appear in the air, pulsing with power that flows outward in controlled waves. Where Scarlett's heart magic lands, wild bursts of energy erupt, reshaping reality according to her will. But the true miracle occurs where our magics intersect.
The corrupted creatures screech and writhe when our unified magic touches them. Some of the lesser manifestations dissolve entirely, their corrupted essence neutralized easily. Others, particularly those created from Underland's native inhabitants, begin to change—the corruption receding like poison drawn from a wound, revealing damaged but potentially salvageable beings beneath.
"It's working!" I call to Scarlett, excitement beating in my chest.
But even as the words leave my mouth, I sense a change in the battle's flow. Mara’s forces are adapting,learningfrom each confrontation. The larger creatures begin to avoid direct contact with our magic, circling to find gaps in our coverage. The smaller ones sacrifice themselves in waves, their dissolution releasing clouds of corrupted particles that spread the infection through the air.
And at the center of the enemy forces, I can see something massive is taking shape—something so dense it appears as a void in reality itself.
"Hold the line!" Scarlett commands her card-soldiers as they face this new development. "Do not engage the central mass!" There’s a slight panic in her voice. She doesn’t want to see them hurt.
She guides her chess knight toward me, moving in L-shaped jumps. When she reaches my position, her expression is grim.
"She's coming," Scarlett says, eyes fixed on the void. "I think it’s Mara."
The void pulses,expands, then tears open like a deep flesh wound. From within steps a figure that bears only the faintest resemblance to my sister.
Mara has transformed almost beyond recognition. Her body is partially crystallized, black veins visible beneath translucent skin that reflects light in unnatural ways. Her hair, once blacklike mine, now bears a prominent streak of white. Her eyes are the most horrifying change—no longer blue like mine, but black pools, emptied of life.
She wears armor fashioned from the same crystals her soldiers carried, but it appears fused to her flesh rather than merely worn. In her hand she carries a staff topped with a pulsing crystal larger than any we've yet encountered—a concentration of power that makes my skin crawl even at this distance.
Behind her, a second figure emerges from the void—King Edmund of Ironwood, or what remains of him. Where Mara has embraced corruption, Edmund has been consumed by it. His human form is barely discernible within a clear shell that seems to be using him as a vessel. His movements are jerky, puppet-like, his face frozen in an expression of agony visible through the crystal encasing him.
"Sister," Mara's voice carries across the battlefield, somehow both hers and not hers—layered with harmonics that scrape against my mind. "How kind of you to save me the trouble of hunting you through two kingdoms."
I feel Scarlett's hand find mine, our magic surging at the contact. Through our connection, I sense her analyzing Mara, calculating odds, forming and discarding plans.
"Mara," I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the horror her appearance evokes. "What have you done to yourself?"
A smile splits her face, too wide, too sharp. "I've evolved beyond the limitations of flesh and blood." Her gaze shifts to our joined hands, and her smile widens further. "Though I see you've discovered a primitive version of the same truth. Magic was never meant to be divided. Heart, blood, iron—all artificial boundaries imposed by frightened queens too weak to embrace true power."
"Not divided," Scarlett counters, her voice ringing with authority. "Balanced. What you've done isn't unification—it's corruption."
