Ophelia reacted faster than I'd expected, though truth be told, she was surprising in more than one way.

  Her hand shot out, crossbow in her grip, and a bolt erupted forward, a thunk echoing down the corridor. The guard she was aiming for raised an armored gauntlet in front of his face, the bolt deflecting off it with a ping. She was already loading another bolt as I started moving.

  I pushed off the stone floor with a grunt, dagger blade tucked against my forearm as I moved. My fingers tightened around the hilt of Tybor's Needle as I cast [Swift Strike].

  I was too far away for the ability to actually work out, but it did allow me to close the distance rapidly. My feet spurred into action at the thought, and I felt my body tire slightly with the action.

  My arm slammed forward, dagger spinning against my palm as I lashed out toward the guard Ophelia had shot at, hoping to take advantage of the distraction.

  I was too slow, though, and his reach too long. He swung his sword up, parrying the blow away with little effort. The rebuttal caused me to stumble up to him, and his shoulder smacked into my chest as he countered any further attacks by lunging into me.

  The guard was larger than me, and with so much of his weight behind the lunge, the movement sent me shuffling back into several steps and into the wall, my back slamming against the cold stone blocks.

  Air rushed from my lungs with the collision and I felt my vision swim as my head slammed backwards, connecting with a thud that sent pain vibrating through my skull.

  I tried to shake the haze away before he attacked, but was too slow. He swung the sword downward, toward my neck, the length of the blade letting him stay back, away from me, and just out of reach of my dagger.

  I ripped my arm up in defense, needle-like blade slicing through the air, and metal collided with a loud ring that echoed up my arm and into my chest.

  I kicked out at him with my right foot, the sound of my boot smacking against the metal a dull noise in the cacophony of sounds that filled the corridor.

  My attacker held fast against the kick. He hissed, his eyes narrowing as he stared at me through the slits in his helmet. He brought a gauntleted fist up, his heavily-armored knuckles smacking into my side, forcing another breath of air out of my chest.

  This time, stars danced across my vision.

  I'd fought several enemies since reawakening, but none of them had hit me as hard as this guard. I couldn't put my finger on why I was struggling so much, but I knew I had to do something rash, or I wouldn't be able to stand up to him much longer.

  I jabbed out at him again, blindly, as the stars impeded my vision, and felt his fingers slap down on my wrist.

  He twisted, pain leaping through my forearm, and I felt the hilt of my dagger slip from my fingers, the blade clattering onto the floor a moment later. The guard pushed me back against the wall again, this time holding my chest tight with an armored forearm.

  His head snapped to the side, taking in the rest of the fight. I followed his gaze for a breath, watching as the other guard—a crossbow bolt sticking out one shoulder—tackled Ophelia as she struggled to load another bolt into her crossbow. I grimaced at the way her body slapped into the ground beneath the guard's weight.

  The guard holding me against the wall turned his attention back to me, the hint of a smirk visible through the opening at the bottom of his helmet. "Fancy coming across two of you down here," he said, digging his forearm into my chest.

  Pain flared at the place my body met his armor and I cringed at the way his eyes traveled up and down my body in the flickering light. His grin widened.

  "What do you think we should do with them?" The other guard asked as he pulled Ophelia up from the floor, shoving her toward us.

  I heard a crack of wood as his foot came down on one of her crossbows, smashing it to pieces.

  "Well," the guard holding me began, "seeing as nobody should know they're down here, I think we toss 'em in a cell, and come back for 'em later." He leaned close to me as he spoke the last words.

  I tried to wiggle free, but that only caused him to push down harder on my chest, the edge of his bracer digging into my sternum even more. I took a deep breath and tried to cast [Swift Strike], focusing the ability on my left hand. I felt the Stamina drain from my body, but when my hand rose to smack at him, he easily slapped it away with his sword hand before pressing the blade to my neck.

  "Body's still warm for a bit after the soul's gone. Did you know that?" His eyes met mine and I felt my stomach twist even more.

  We had to get free somehow. I couldn't let this man have his way with me. How he had made it into the palace guard, I had no idea. That was another problem I'd need to solve once I had control again.

  But I had no idea how to get out of this. He'd already stopped the only ability that I had to work with at the moment, and not for the first time since my reawakening I wished I could just transform into a dragon and rip someone to shreds.

  The guards pushed us together, swords at our backs, and shoved us forward down the hallway, back in the direction that we'd come. Panic flooded my mind as they led us back toward the dungeon, the storerooms eventually giving way to the grime-covered dungeon walls once more. I tried to think of any way I might be able to escape, but the only thing that came to mind was fighting our way out.

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  That or getting lucky enough that another guard might come across us.

  "Let's not take 'em too far, Sali," the guard holding me said. "I want to be able to find 'em when we're ready."

  The other, Sali, grunted in agreement and they directed us toward one of the cells on the right side of the corridor, the barred door screaming as if in pain as they pulled it open. The guard holding Ophelia shoved her inside and she stumbled into the darkness. I heard her body smack against the stones.

  My captor began pushing me forward. My mind raced faster as the distance closed between us and the door, the smirk on Sali's face shining in the flickering light of the dungeon's oil lanterns, which reigned down light from above.

  I had to get free. That meant I had to fight.

  Without giving them any warning, I twisted my foot down slightly as I stepped forward, letting the tip of my toes catch on one of the grooves in the stone floor. This made me stumble, forcing the guard behind me to shamble forward so as not to lose his grip on me.

  I used the momentum to my advantage, focusing on my foot as [Swift Strike] once more echoed across my thoughts.

  My foot shot out and backwards, kicking at the guard holding me. My boot connected low, with the shin of his armored leg, further throwing him off balance. The weight of his fingers slipped from my cloak and I rushed forward, away from the bite of his blade and directly into the other guard before he had a chance to react.

  My momentum sent the other guard barreling backward into the wall, his arm slamming into the barred door as it swung open fully, metal colliding with stone in a roar that echoed down the corridor.

  I grabbed for the hilt of the guard's sword as he tried to stumble away from me, fingers closing around it as I brought my other hand up and shoved my palm into the man's neck, near the bottom of his helmet. It hurt, the edge digging into my palm, but I pushed through the pain as I ripped the sword from his grip.

  I spun as I moved, letting the sword whistle through the air as I put distance between myself and the men. I took up a fighting stance I'd been taught several hundred years ago—the foot placements and the way I held the sword coming back like muscle memory as the two men struggled to recover from my onslaught.

  I offered them my own smirk as they focused on me, the guard whose sword I'd taken looked the most dazed, and he'd removed his helmet at some point, in the time it took me to twist around and into position. His hair was matted with sweat from the helm, and his gaze drunkenly locked on me, the stars almost visible before them.

  "One more dance?" I asked, tightening my grip on the sword. It felt right having the weight of a sword pulling on my arms again.

  I started to move then, before they had time to fully recover.

  I closed the distance quickly, bringing the sword in for a sideways slash as I did. Metal met metal as Sali moved to block my attack with his armored forearm. He was slow, but just fast enough to knock the weapon away from his exposed neck.

  I followed the momentum off the counter and then swung around from the opposite direction, letting the weight of the sword carry my movement forward.

  The sword felt perfect in my arms, but after using the dagger so much in recent days, it was a bit heavier than I was used to. With a little time and practice, though, I had no doubt I'd be back up to my previous sword skill in no time.

  In the meantime, I could use the weight difference to my advantage if I kept enough distance between myself and the guards.

  We continued our dance. Them alternating attacks, me forcing them back before being forced back myself as they tried to close the distance. I kept hoping Ophelia would pop up from the cell, some kind of surprise left up her sleeves, but I never heard or saw anything out of her.

  I felt a bit of anger building in my gut at that thought. It made no sense, but sense wasn't something I had been finding in high supply as of late, especially when it came to the way I felt about certain things. I let the anger flow through me, as if it might enhance my movements with the sword.

  After several minutes of our back and forth, I swung the blade down hard and the edge dug into one of Sali's gloves as he brought his hand up to ward off my attack. The metal bit into the thick fabric and I pulled it back, hoping it would slice clean to the skin.

  It didn't. Instead, the other guard brought up his sword, swinging wildly at my head. I parried the movement with a twist of my own blade, and then jumped backward, trying to give myself some additional breathing room.

  My chest heaved like the earth when it quakes, the cool air of the dungeon scorching my throat as I took in deep breaths.

  I was holding my own, but just barely, and even the skill with the sword that I carried over from my past life wouldn't be enough to hold them off forever.

  As if sensing my weakness, they came at me as one.

  The oil lanterns above us flickered as one came at me from the right with his sword, the other swinging a fist at me from the left—their shadows splayed out on the wall like blood at an executioner's block. Only it was my head on the block this time.

  I swung my sword to parry off the approaching blade and took the punch in the side.

  Like before, the heavy weight of the man's blow sent the air from my lungs rushing outward, as if it couldn't escape the harsh reality of the situation fast enough.

  They came at me again, and I stumbled backward under the force of their attacks, my feet slipping on the stone, where moss and other plant life grew in the cracks. The guard with the sword brought his weapon down hard once more, this time his ally shoving his foot out at my chest.

  For the second time in less than a minute I was forced to block the blow from the blade and take the other guard's attack full-on.

  My back slammed into stone, my arm flopping against the wall as well, the metal of the sword clattering against the blocks as my fingers threatened to give up their grip.

  I ground my teeth as the two men closed the remaining distance, sweat dripping into my eyes, painting the fluctuating light of the dim lanterns overhead in a teary haze.

  I would die before they could take me. That would leave poor Ophelia as the only object of their attention. But at least I wouldn't have to experience it. At least I would go down fighting.

  It took all the strength I had left, but I pulled the sword tight in front of me, extending the blade toward them, forcing them to spread out to my sides. I swung it between them, trying to ward them off.

  Sali smirked, his lips tugging upward in a very dragon-like movement that made my entire body shiver as nausea threatened to force its way up my throat.

  Was that how I looked when I was in their position? No, I had never truly been in their position. I might be a monster—and striving further to become an even greater one—but I had never preyed on others the way they wanted to.

  They were almost to me, the guard with the sword preparing to swing his blade forward, the other shifting his weight—maybe to tackle me into the wall—when something dark moved behind them.

  Ophelia?

  I had only a brief moment—a blink of an eye—to wonder what the shadowed figure spiraling through the air was before the helmetless guard was ripped away, the sound of his body as it collided with the wall behind a loud crunch of metal against stone.

  My eyes widened as I stared, unable to move.

  The remaining guard advanced, sword held out before him like an executioner's axe. His eyes bore into me, intent clearly burning in his gaze.

  Everything around us seemed to slow as the world itself focused in on that moment.

  The moment I would die for a second time.