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Chapter Text

⚠︎ Before we begin: ⚠︎

This is a dark fantasy Sonic AU set in Camelot with angst, political tension, slow burn ships, and magic. No explicit content.
⚠︎ A small change in characters: In the original game, Sir Percival is portrayed by Blaze. In this AU, Percival is portrayed by Silver. ⚠︎
  
Updates Fridays.

✧ If you're here to test if this story is for you, feel free to skip ahead to the
✦ Prologue ✦ to dive straight into the narrative. ✧

✦ Welcome to The Crimson Spell ✦

Thank you for reading this story. Before we begin, here's a general info page so you know what to expect (and what not to expect) from this AU:

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✧ What is this story about? ✧

The Crimson Spell is an AU fanfic set in the Camelot of Sonic and the Black Knight. It contains elements of forbidden magic, political tension, emotional secrets, and plenty of angst and drama. It has a serious narrative focus with an introspective, emotionally intense tone, structured as a three-act novel.

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✧ About Gwendolyn ✧

The protagonist is an OC (original character), a Mobian hedgehog blacksmith with a hidden past and a dangerous connection to magic. Her arc is one of power, trauma, self-discovery, and choice.

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✧ Canon and AU ✧

This is an AU. Nothing here is canon. Yes, there are references, but the world, the story, the rules, and the bonds are fully reinvented.

There are Easter eggs for Sonic fans, but you don't need deep knowledge of the original lore to understand and enjoy this story.

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✧ About the ships ✧

✧ Shadow/Lancelot x Gwendolyn (slow burn / enemies to lovers / tragic romance)

✧ Knuckles/Gawain x Rouge (mature relationship / emotional tension / shared history)

✧ Silver/Percival x Blaze (soft / sweet / mutual growth)

✧ Sonic x Amy (slow burn / secret relationship / impossible love)

These ships are protected. There is no forced betrayal or toxic love triangles. Yes, there is conflict, but it is handled with emotional respect.

⚠︎ Slow burn. Tension first, resolution... not yet. Proceed with longing. ⚠︎

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⚠︎ Are there intense scenes? ⚠︎

Yes. Some chapters contain emotionally heavy content, especially regarding symbolic violence, character conflict, physical tension, and past trauma.

However:

✧ There is no explicit sexual content.

✧ Physical or psychological aggression is neither romanticized nor justified.

✧ Hard scenes have real narrative consequences.

✧ If a chapter contains more sensitive elements, clear content warnings will be provided at the beginning.

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✧ Format and pacing ✧

Chapters are typically between 2,000 and 4,000 words.

Some chapters are longer, and this will be noted in the header.

The pacing varies: there is introspection, action, romance, politics, and magic. Everything builds progressively.

Think of The Crimson Spell like a series: each mini-arc has its own beginning and end while the larger story advances with fire and magic in Camelot.

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⚠︎ Tone and content disclaimer ⚠︎

✧ This story explores characters with contradictions, especially Lancelot. If you're looking for a perfect, unshakeable, invincible Shadow/Lancelot... this is not that fic.

✧ His personality is inspired by canon: stoic, proud, loyal to the point of self-destruction. But here, you will see him conflicted, falling, doubting, hurting and being hurt.

✧ Sonic is also explored differently here. If you're looking for the always optimistic, carefree, flawless Sonic... this is not that fic.

✧ This Sonic has ruled as king, has made mistakes, and carries the weight of the difficult decisions the throne demands. He is a leader who loves his people but is also a young man marked by betrayal and the fear of failure. He is brave, yes, but also stubborn, wounded, and sometimes unable to forgive himself.

✧ Here, Sonic is human in his heroism. And learning to be a king may be his greatest challenge.

✧ Toxicity and violence of any kind are not romanticized. Relationships are built with tension, consequences, and humanity.

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✧ Story status ✧

Currently, the first part of the story is fully written outside of this platform, with all chapters revised and ready to be shared.

It will be published here weekly, maintaining a comfortable reading pace while allowing you to enjoy the journey chapter by chapter.

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✧ Maps and art ✧

If you would like to orient yourself in the story, you can check the Camelot map available in my socials IG: @sochiarts to help with immersion whenever you need it.

Additionally, I plan to create concept art for important scenes and share them there during publication. I can't promise one for every chapter, but I hope you enjoy them when they appear.

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If after all this you decide to step in... welcome.
✧ You are welcome to leave comments, questions, or theories. I love reading them. ✧

Enjoy the story, and thank you for being here.
— Sochi 🖤

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✧ If you enjoy the story, kudos and bookmarks help more than you know. ✧

Chapter Text

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For you, daughter of the imperfect spell.
You were never a mistake.
You were simply magic... arriving before the world was ready to hold it.

And for those who have felt themselves burning from within...
and still, every day, choose not to extinguish themselves.

—From the one who loved you before your name took shape.

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"A witch is not born from fire.
She is made with it.
Forged by fear...
and by learning to burn in silence."

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In the heart of a vast and vibrant kingdom, Camelot rose, gleaming under the rule of the blue hedgehog, King Sonic.

Stone and timber houses with red-tiled roofs dotted the gentle hills, connected by iron and wooden bridges arching over canals where fish changed color at dusk.
Carriages with crystal lanterns glided over cobbled streets, lit by quartz orbs pulsing with white light as steam spiraled from the boilers below.

In the markets, herb stalls glowed faintly, and near the castle, the crops flourished in impossible shades of green, more alive than anywhere else in the realm.
Tiny flowers grew between cracks in the stone, releasing golden dust when brushed against, as if the earth itself remembered something people wished to forget.

On the highest hill, Camelot's castle watched over Lake Liria with its stone towers and mechanical clocks marking the hours with an echo that rippled across the city.

To the north, the Thalanor Grove whispered in deep green, carrying rumors of druids who guarded ancient secrets.
To the west, the Erollyn Forest stretched its shadows to kiss the shores of Lake Avalon, while the Blackthorn Forest remained impenetrable on the southern border.
Farther southwest, the Argenthal Mountains rose like stone sentinels, their snow-capped peaks watching over ancient mines that glowed with faint lights as night fell.

It was a kingdom full of life—bustling markets, fountains shimmering in the dawn light, and legends that seemed to thrum in every hidden corner.
And at the center of it all, the blue king of Camelot set the pulse of the realm.

His rise to power was the stuff of legend: he claimed the throne by wielding the sword Excalibur and defeating the dark and mighty King Arthur.
With his reign, peace and prosperity blossomed, guided by the wise counsel and mentorship of the greatest wizard of all time:

Merlin.

They were glorious days, filled with joy and the flourishing of Camelot's people.

But that golden age was not meant to last.

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One day, the unthinkable happened.

Merlin, the king's mentor and father figure, vanished without a trace, taking with him one of the two Chaos Emeralds kept within the castle's vault. These emeralds were powerful, enchanted artifacts of immeasurable worth.
Sonic felt a betrayal that pierced his very soul; his guide, his master, had turned his back on him and on all of Camelot, fleeing with one of its most treasured relics.

Blinded by grief and rage, Sonic issued a decree as harsh as a hammer's blow: all magical practice and sorcery were banned within Camelot.
Wizards and sorcerers faced a brutal choice: leave the kingdom, or face prison... or something worse—death.

Those who stayed were forced to seal away their magic, living in the shadows, smothering their gifts under the weight of the king's new laws.
The stories of magic that once wove themselves into Camelot's everyday life faded into whispers, legends that painted sorcerers as traitors or dangers to be feared.

Amid this chaos, there was one citizen whose secret was too dangerous to reveal.

Gwendolyn.

A warm-gray hedgehog with fur streaked in shades of red and orange, and amber eyes.
From childhood, she possessed a gift that would now condemn her:

Elemental power.
Earth, air, water, and fire danced at her command.

Once, she would play with her magic in hidden forest clearings. Now, she had to hide it behind a smile and a red bandana.
Concealed beneath that fabric, at her forehead, glowed her most dangerous secret:

A red Chaos Emerald.

Her source of power... and her death sentence, should anyone discover it.

Only a handful of friends knew the truth. To the rest of the world, she was nothing more than a humble blacksmith's assistant in Tails' workshop. There, she could still use her magic in small, careful doses. Just enough to remind herself who she was.

Just enough to survive.

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Rumors of Merlin's disappearance and the stolen emerald spread like smoke.

Some whispered that the wizard had been corrupted by the gem's power. Others swore he had been forced, or that he was under a spell.
The people's faith in magic, once unshakable, shattered into a thousand pieces, and the image of mages as traitors became rooted deep in every heart.

Gwendolyn's life grew increasingly precarious.
The fear of being discovered followed her at every step, and the weight of hiding her true nature wore her down.
She often slipped away to hidden forest clearings, her only refuge. There, far from prying eyes, she practiced her elemental magic, and for a moment, she felt free.

For years, Camelot endured under the shadow of a king who had once been a symbol of hope and joy, but who now was only a dim reflection of who he used to be.

His only solace: the company of his loyal Knights of the Round Table.
Among them, Gawain, Percival, and Lancelot—the latter his most faithful and closest knight.
By his side, as always, was Tails, his inseparable companion, who stood by him even during the kingdom's darkest days.

Little by little, thanks to Tails, Sonic began to emerge from his grief. He started to smile again during the town's festivals and found moments of joy in the castle's dances.

But the shadow never truly left.

Because the theft of the Emerald hadn't only been a betrayal.
It had been a sign.

A warning.

Far from the court, something was awakening.
A storm was growing in silence, fed by the chaos of the stolen gem.

And at the center of that storm...
A blacksmith with fire in her blood.
A lie gleaming at her forehead.

And a destiny impossible to escape.

Chapter Text

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On a warm summer night, Camelot's town hall overflowed with color and music. Banners swayed gently under the glow of chandeliers, casting golden light across polished marble floors.
Nobles and commoners danced without a care in the world—or for their aching feet—moving to the rhythm of a string quartet that mingled with laughter and lively conversation.
It was a living testament to the kingdom's prosperity under King Sonic's reign, a celebration of joy and unity.

The festivities came to a sudden halt when the grand wooden doors creaked open, the sound echoing dramatically through the hall, so sharp that even the quartet froze mid-note.
All eyes turned toward the entrance.
There stood King Sonic, flanked by his knights: Lancelot, Percival, and Gawain. The king's blue figure radiated warmth and strength, emerald eyes sparkling above a calm, easy smile.

Lancelot, on the other hand, looked ready to decapitate anyone who so much as breathed wrong. His black and red quills flared like sharp flames, and his crimson gaze cut through the air. One hand rested almost casually on the hilt of his sword as he moved with the precise calm of a predator.

The chatter died.

The crowd parted for them, bowing with respect as they passed.
Sonic's smile softened as he dipped his head in return. His golden crown caught the light, shining like a rising sun as his hand rested on the pommel of Excalibur.

The mayor, an elderly walrus in embroidered robes with trembling whiskers, stepped forward with a deep bow.
"Your Majesty, it is an honor to have you here tonight. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Sonic's smile widened.
"No special reason, Mayor. I simply came to enjoy the celebration with my people."
"Of course, Your Majesty. Should you need anything, we're at your service," the mayor replied with a playful glint before disappearing back into the crowd.

The hum of conversation returned, hesitant at first, then flowing as if nothing had interrupted it. Sonic and his knights moved toward the head table, nodding in acknowledgment to every bow they received.

Near the edge of the crowd, Gwendolyn watched with quiet curiosity. For the briefest moment, her amber eyes met Lancelot's crimson gaze. A shiver crawled down her spine.
At the head table, Sonic gestured for his knights to take their seats.

Lancelot sat rigidly at his right. Gawain practically slumped into his chair, chin in hand, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Percival, golden eyes glinting under the candlelight, watched the dancers with an impassive expression... though his boredom was obvious from a mile away.

"Are those the Knights of the Round Table?" Gwendolyn whispered to Blaze.
Blaze nodded.
"The most loyal of them all. Especially the one in black. Impressive, isn't he?"

Gwendolyn didn't look away from Lancelot.
"I think Tails and I worked on his armor... That helmet looks familiar." She frowned as she watched him remove it, revealing sharp features and quills so pointed they seemed to cut the air around him.
"Probably," Blaze said with a shrug, biting into a pastry. "The king commissions a ton of work from the workshops."

While they spoke, Percival continued to watch the dancers, boredom creeping into his posture as he tried to stifle a yawn. Lancelot remained on high alert, scanning every corner of the hall as if he expected someone to leap out from behind a curtain. Gawain, meanwhile, looked seconds away from falling asleep in his chair.

"They don't look like they're having much fun," Gwendolyn murmured with a mischievous smile.
"They'd probably prefer a battlefield," Blaze laughed. "But speaking of fun... let's go dance!"
"Ugh, no, Blaze..." Gwendolyn groaned.

Blaze rolled her eyes and grabbed her arm.
"Come on, Gwen. It's a party."
"Fine... but just for a little while," Gwendolyn sighed, giving in.

As they joined the dancers, Gwendolyn couldn't help glancing back at Lancelot one more time. There was something about the way he held himself, so unyielding and watchful, that intrigued her. She felt that beneath that rigid, serious facade, something deeper was hidden.

And that thought lingered with her as she spun to the music with Blaze, sneaking glances at the knight who seemed impossible to read.

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The night wore on, the grand hall pulsing with music, laughter, and dancing feet. King Sonic, seated among his knights, allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

At last, a night without politics.

But Lancelot... Lancelot didn't know how to relax.
His watchful gaze swept over the crowd as if expecting a dagger to fly from the dance floor at any moment. That was when he saw her. Or rather, saw them: Gwendolyn and Blaze, gliding between the dancers.

The other knights noticed too.

Gawain barely reacted, too busy trying not to fall asleep.
Percival, on the other hand, couldn't look away from Blaze.

Every movement of hers seemed to mesmerize him—her lavender fur shimmering under the lights, the faint glow of her fiery aura, those golden eyes like embers. She was magnetic.

"You're staring," Gawain muttered with a teasing grin.
Percival flinched, heat flooding his face.
"What? Of course not!" he blurted, glancing right back where he shouldn't.

Gawain let out a laugh.
"Oh, you're staring. You've been watching her all night."
"N-no, I haven't!"
"Oh yeah? Then why are you still looking? Face it, Percival—you're under the kitten's spell."

While Gawain chuckled at his friend's obvious panic, Tails made his way over to Gwendolyn and Blaze on the far side of the hall, a spark of nerves in his eyes.

"Hey, you two. Enjoying the night?"
"Sort of," Gwendolyn replied, crossing her arms in mock annoyance.
"Oh, come on, Gwen. That smile says otherwise," Blaze teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Yeah, dancing's never really been your thing, huh?" Tails added.
"You know me too well."

The fox cleared his throat.
"Actually, I came to ask you something. Want to come say hi to the king with me?"

Gwendolyn blinked.
"What? Us?"
"Are we talking about the King Sonic or some shorter, less blue Sonic I don't know about?" Blaze asked, caught between fear and excitement.
"Yeah, seriously. I think it'd be good to introduce you," Tails said with a strained smile.

Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow.
"Aha... you just don't want to go alone, do you?"
"Heh... you caught me." Tails rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"Alright, we'll go," Blaze said with a small laugh, "but only if you ask nicely."

The boy sighed.
"Please... would you come with me to greet King Sonic?"
"Of course," Gwendolyn said, smoothing down her dress.

Tails let out a breath of relief.

As they moved forward, music and laughter wrapped around them. Blaze felt a flicker of nerves when the knights came into view, imposing, carrying an aura that was impossible to ignore.

"You don't think they'll mind, do you? They look... intense," Blaze murmured.
Tails shook his head confidently.
"They know you're my friends. There's no reason for them to object."

It helped. A little.

As they neared the head table, Lancelot looked up. Gwendolyn didn't look away. She lifted her chin with quiet elegance.

Blaze straightened her back. No shrinking, even if her stomach twisted inside.

Gawain was the first to notice.
"Well, look who's bringing company to the table," he remarked in a teasing tone, catching Percival's attention.

Lancelot didn't say a word. He never did. But his eyes rested on Gwendolyn, and for a split second, his expression softened.

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As they reached the table, King Sonic stood, his smile lighting up the space around him.
"Tails! My dear friend, I didn't expect to see you tonight."

Tails dipped his head with a modest smile.
"It's always an honor to join the festivities, Your Majesty."

The king's eyes drifted toward Gwendolyn and Blaze, as warm as his smile.
"And I see you've brought lovely company."

Tails gestured toward them.
"Your Majesty, allow me to introduce Gwendolyn and Blaze. They've been invaluable to the kingdom and are dear friends."

Both girls dipped into a synchronized curtsey.
"It's an honor, Your Majesty."
"The honor is mine," Sonic replied warmly. "Anyone who has helped Tails has my gratitude."

The knights, tense at first, seemed to relax under the king's easy reception. Gawain nodded in approval, while Percival couldn't quite hide his fascination with Blaze. Lancelot remained still and silent.

Sonic extended an arm toward his knights, pride in every gesture.
"Allow me to introduce my knights," he said as if presenting rare jewels. "They have never wavered and always fulfill their duties to perfection."

Gwendolyn and Blaze offered another polite curtsey.

"First, Sir Gawain, the infamous dragon-slayer. The bravest and most headstrong of my knights. He's defeated—not one, not two—but three dragons on his own!"

Gawain straightened, radiating confidence. His bright red fur and thick quills glinted under the golden lights as the king praised his dedication. His violet eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and amusement as he nodded with just a touch of arrogance.

Gwendolyn and Blaze exchanged impressed glances, smiling.

Then the king turned to Percival, whose silver quills shone under the chandeliers.
"Sir Percival, the most diligent and sharp-minded of my knights. His keen intellect and speed make him one of Camelot's finest."

Percival bowed his head modestly.
His golden eyes briefly met Blaze's, who quickly looked away, cheeks flushing pink.
Gwendolyn noticed, her smile growing.

"And finally, Sir Lancelot," Sonic announced, his tone dipping into something close to reverence. "Stoic and silent, his actions speak louder than a thousand words. His skill and loyalty are unmatched."

Lancelot, with his black fur streaked in crimson, exuded an imposing presence. His sharp quills framed a face of defined features and intense red eyes. Every movement he made was deliberate, charged with power.

His gaze settled on Gwendolyn.
Unlike most, who might have shrunk under such a stare, Gwendolyn met it head-on, her smile unbroken.

For a moment, something imperceptible flickered across Lancelot's face—a spark of curiosity.

"No wonder you brought your finest knights, Your Majesty," Gwendolyn remarked in a polite yet easy tone.

Sonic let out a hearty laugh.
"Of course. I wouldn't trust anyone else to escort me. These three have never let me down."

A soft laugh escaped Gwendolyn. Lancelot, before he could stop himself, found his gaze lingering on her a second too long.
Gawain noticed, raising an eyebrow with a half-smirk.

He said nothing... for now.

Percival, still distracted by Blaze, barely registered the moment.

The king's attention returned to the two young women.
"I've spoken of my knights, but I'd like to know more about you."

Gwendolyn nudged Blaze, who swallowed hard before stepping forward.
"I work at the herbal shop in town, Your Majesty. We sell medicinal plants."

Sonic nodded, curious but clearly out of his depth on the topic.
"An herbal shop? Sounds simple, but useful."

Tails jumped in immediately.
"Oh, it's much more than that, Your Majesty. I've gone there a thousand times. They have the rarest stuff, the best herbs in the kingdom. Some even come from the borders near the Grove."
"Rare herbs, you say? You handle everything on your own?"

"That's right," Blaze replied, now with more confidence. "Rouge, the owner, finds the strangest things. I harvest, organize the inventory, and run the shop."
She nodded toward the dance floor.
"She's over there, the one with the black wings."

The king's gaze followed her gesture until it found Rouge, her white fur and confident movements standing out in the crowd. Sonic's smile turned playful.
"Ah, the famous treasure hunter. She looks... cunning."
"She is. She always finds rare treasures and plants on the kingdom's borders."

Sonic nodded, turning his attention to Gwendolyn.
"And you, do you work there as well?"
"Oh, no, Your Majesty. I work in Tails' smithy. Though I help with the plants sometimes."

"A smithy?" Sonic repeated, surprised.

Gawain and Percival exchanged a look, equally astonished. A female blacksmith in Camelot wasn't common. The only one they knew was Sally, from Knothole Village.

Gawain smirked.
"A blacksmith? Now, that's not something you see every day."
Gwendolyn met his gaze with a challenging smile.
"It shouldn't surprise you, Sir Gawain. I worked on your armor myself. Galvanized copper alloy, palladium, steel accents, and cherry topaz inlays."

Gawain's smirk faded, replaced by genuine surprise.

Percival leaned forward, impressed.
"You forged our armor?"
"Uh-huh," Tails cut in, puffing up with pride. "I handle the heavy parts, but Gwen... Gwen's the artist. Every fine detail is hers."

Gawain smiled for real this time.
"You've left me speechless. Impressive, Lady Gwendolyn."
"And very useful in battle," Percival added. "Your work has withstood everything. Thank you."

Gwendolyn blushed, dropping her gaze with a shy smile, but couldn't help looking for Lancelot's eyes.
He was watching her, thoughtful. His expression wasn't harsh this time—only curious.
He commented quietly,
"A rare skill. Useful in the workshop, I suppose."

It wasn't said with malice. It sounded practical, though to Gwendolyn, it felt a bit cold.

She just took a steady breath and nodded.

Sonic let out a warm laugh.
"Seems you've impressed my knights. I'm grateful for your contributions, ladies."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Gwendolyn and Blaze replied, bowing.

The king's smile widened.
"Now, ladies, this party isn't all business. Dance, talk... it's a celebration!"

Gawain and Percival exchanged mischievous grins before turning back to them.

Gawain bowed his head, playful.
"Now that the formalities are done, how about we enjoy something a little... more fun?"
Percival, eyes fixed on Blaze, added,
"Would you honor me with this dance?"

Blaze blushed. A lot.

"Of course... I'd love to."

Percival offered his hand with a small bow, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, Blaze placed hers in his with a soft smile.

Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow, amused by her friend's shyness. But before Gawain could extend his invitation, Tails jumped in eagerly.

"Gwennie, you should have some fun too! I'll stay here with the king for a bit."
"All right, if you insist," Gwendolyn laughed, turning toward the king and the knights with a graceful bow. "Your Highness... gentlemen."

With one last glance at Blaze and Percival, already heading toward the dance floor, she began to walk away.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The four men watched her leave, Tails' words still hanging in the air.

Sonic chuckled under his breath, glancing at Gawain and Lancelot.
"Well, gentlemen, looks like the blacksmith apprentice is off. Who's going after her?"
Gawain dipped into a playful bow instantly.
"With pleasure, Your Majesty."

He strode through the crowd confidently, catching up to her quickly.
"Pardon me, my lady," he called out—just as...

"Well, well. So this is the famous Sir Gawain, the dragon-slayer?" The voice carried a playful lilt.

Gawain smiled, recognizing Rouge's voice immediately.

"The very same, Lady Rouge. An honor to see Camelot's most elusive treasure hunter."

Rouge leaned against the wall, wearing a sly smile.
"The honor's mine. Tell me, Sir Knight, what brings you to the edges of the party?"
"Perhaps a bit of fun," Gawain replied.
"And what kind of fun is a knight looking for at a dance?"
"Perhaps the kind that involves a good dance," he answered, his tone dripping with charm.

Rouge tilted her head.
"Is that an invitation?"
"While I would enjoy sharing a dance with you, I had someone else in mind tonight."

He glanced back into the hall, noticing that Gwendolyn had slipped away.

Great. She vanished.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"Seems the lady has disappeared."
Rouge laughed too.
"Smart girl. Much smarter than most give her credit for."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

On the other side of the hall, hidden among shadows and columns, Gwendolyn watched the swirl of dancers. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, she savored a rare moment of calm.

She didn't notice someone approaching until it was too late.

"Seems you prefer watching to dancing."

The voice was low. Steady. Close.

Gwendolyn flinched, turning—and there he was. Lancelot.
Tall, unmoving, eyes fixed on her.
"Oh... hi," she managed, taking a breath.

Lancelot nodded, making no unnecessary gestures. His gaze drifted toward the dance floor.

Silence fell between them. Not awkward, just heavy. Like they both knew something was shifting beneath the surface.
Gwendolyn glanced over at Blaze, who was laughing as Percival spun her around.
"They look like they're having fun, don't you think? Dancing can be... nice," she said finally, her voice soft.

"It doesn't interest me."

The dry response erased her smile. She hadn't expected enthusiasm, but that felt like talking to a wall.

Or worse.

She fell silent, then nodded, regaining her composure.
"Right... Well, I guess it's not for everyone."

She pushed off the wall and took a step toward the crowd.

Lancelot watched her leave. He knew he'd been too blunt. Again.
But what could he say? Dancing wasn't his thing. Talking wasn't either.

And yet, there he was, following her with his gaze. As if her very presence pressed against his chest.

Like a splinter. Small. Persistent. Impossible to ignore.

Chapter Text

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In the grand City Hall of Camelot, the night pulsed with life.

Laughter, music, and the clink of glasses echoed off the vaulted ceiling, while chandeliers hung above the crowd like warm stars.

At the main table, King Sonic and Tails sat with half-empty cups and plates already conquered (may they rest in peace). From their seats, they watched knights and ladies spinning across the dance floor with varying degrees of grace, which only made it all the more entertaining.

Sir Gawain and Sir Percival were in their usual displays of chivalry, their charm swinging somewhere between endearing and pathetically ridiculous. And then there was Sir Lancelot, the eternal observer, stationed in a corner with the sharp focus of a hawk on the hunt.

Sonic let out a laugh, elbowing Tails.
"Check that out."
Tails raised a brow.
"Am I supposed to be looking at something specific?"
"Our brave knights," Sonic said, gesturing with his cup. "All that courage, and they're still not as gallant as they think they are."

Sir Gawain was waving his arms with grand gestures, his laughter booming over the music while his dance partner tried not to burst out laughing. Sir Percival attempted a spin far too ambitious, and nearly kissed the floor, sending his partner into a fit of giggles.

Poetic.

"They're charming. In their... unique way," Tails murmured.
"And then there's Lance." Sonic pointed at the dark knight, stiff against the wall like he'd been carved into it. "He's got the energy of someone who'd rather be on a suicide mission."
"He's always been the shadows-and-brooding type. I don't think I've ever seen him dance willingly."

Sonic chuckled again, glancing toward Gwendolyn, who was dancing with surprising ease.
"Speaking of surprises... look at her. Never thought she'd actually enjoy a party."
"Gwen, dancing? Blaze must've dragged her out there. Otherwise, she'd be glued to the wall like Lancelot. Just with better posture."

Sonic nodded.
"From what you've told me, she's always on edge. But tonight... she looks more at ease."

Just then, Gwendolyn slipped off the dance floor with her usual quiet grace, weaving through the crowd. Sonic noticed how carefully she avoided Lancelot's corner. He grinned and nudged Tails again.

"What now?"
"She's doing everything she can not to cross paths with him."
"Trouble in paradise?"
"Knowing Lance, he probably said something he shouldn't have."
"And knowing Gwen, she definitely didn't let it slide."
"Oh no. Two strong personalities clashing... that's a recipe for disaster," Sonic laughed. "Or entertainment. Let's just hope they don't start throwing things."
"Yeah... let's hope," Tails replied, though his eyes lingered on the two enigmatic knights dancing at the center of the hall.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Music and voices filled every corner of the Hall.
Near a marble column, Gwendolyn leaned back, trying to look relaxed. In front of her, Rouge twirled her wine glass between her fingers, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"So, how's business, Rouge? Still out treasure hunting?" Gwendolyn asked.
Rouge let out a soft laugh.
"As always, better than ever. Jewels to find, treasures to unearth... No rest for the wicked. What about the forge? Still shaping steel for the king's precious knights?"

"Yeah. Every armor, every blade... I design them with the wearer in mind. It's a challenge, but I love it."
"You're passionate about it. That's obvious. For you, forging isn't just a job... it's art."
"I couldn't do it without the gems you find for me," Gwendolyn replied with a laugh.

Rouge tilted her glass in playful acknowledgment.
"You flatter me, darling. But I just add the sparkle. You're the one doing the heavy lifting."

The conversation shifted when Rouge leaned in, dropping her voice.
"Tell me... are you still using your magic in those armors?"

Gwendolyn tensed instantly, sweeping her gaze around.
"Rouge, keep it down! Do you want me arrested?"
"Relax, I'm not shouting. But it's funny, isn't it? Our little witch, working for the king who outlawed magic."
"Sorceress, actually. And yes, I still use it... It's the only way to keep up with the demand."

Rouge chuckled, savoring Gwendolyn's unease.
"Impressive as always. Just be careful. If anyone outside your little circle finds out... it won't be pretty."
"Don't remind me." Gwendolyn sighed, running a hand over her quills. "If the king or his knights found out—"
"You'd be in trouble," Rouge finished with amused ease. "But let's be honest, it's deliciously ironic. A sorceress secretly forging weapons for the king's guard."

Before Gwendolyn could reply, voices drifted over from the other side of the column. Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival.

Rouge and Gwendolyn fell silent, curiosity sparking between them.

"It's been a pleasant evening, don't you think?" Percival said.
"I suppose," Lancelot grunted.
"You haven't danced once tonight."
"Dancing is a pointless, ridiculous activity. I'm not interested."

"Oh, we all know you're no natural charmer," Percival teased. "But what about Lady Gwendolyn? I saw you talking to her earlier... don't you think she's pleasant?"
"The blacksmith?" Lancelot's voice was flat. "I suppose she's... competent. But not enough to matter to me."

Rouge clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a traitorous laugh. Gwendolyn blinked, confused.

"Competent"? Didn't matter? What in the world did that even mean in Lancelot-speak?

"Competent? I'd say she's much more than that. You said it yourself, it's rare to see that kind of skill in a woman."
"That doesn't make her valuable," Lancelot snapped, jaw tight. "It just means she knows how to swing a hammer. There's nothing about her that interests me."

That one stung.

Gwendolyn tensed, her once-relaxed hands curling into fists. Rouge leaned in, whispering with a wicked glint in her eyes.
"'Competent,' he says. In his language, that's practically a love confession."

Gwendolyn elbowed her, more out of reflex than annoyance, trying to ignore how fast her heart was pounding.

"Come on, Lance..." Percival continued, "She seems sweet, smart... pretty attractive too, and—"
"Do. Not. Finish. That sentence." Lancelot's growl cut through the air. "So what if she is? It doesn't matter."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Gwendolyn swallowed, her cheeks burning, though whether from embarrassment or something else, she couldn't quite tell.

Or maybe it was both, she thought, especially considering how much she suddenly wanted to throw a piece of armor at his head.

"Oh, really?" Percival pressed on. "Tell me, Lance, what does matter to you?"

Lancelot took a moment to respond... an eternity, for him.
"Character. Values. Strength. That's what matters."
"I see. And do you think the blacksmith has those 'values' you're talking about?"

A low growl rumbled in Lancelot's throat. He knew Gwendolyn had all of that—intelligence, dedication, quiet strength.

But admitting it, especially to Percival, was unthinkable.

"No. Of course not. She's just a blacksmith. Nothing more to say. She should stay in the forge where she belongs."

Hidden behind the column, Gwendolyn let out a sharp exhale. His words hit harder than she expected.
Her jaw tightened, the warmth of her earlier laughter replaced with a cold, prickling irritation.

"Ouch," Rouge whispered. "That one hurt a bit."
"Who cares? Doesn't affect me," Gwendolyn muttered, clearly affected.

Percival, more serious now, said,
"You're being unfair."
"I'm being honest," Lancelot shot back, cold.
"Really? Because from where I'm standing—"
"I don't care what you think, Percival." Lancelot's voice was sharp, fury barely contained. "She's nothing but a tool for the king's armory. A means to an end." He paused. "Drop it. Go back to your partner. You're wasting your time here."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode off toward the king's table, leaving Percival standing in silence.

Behind the column, Rouge raised an amused eyebrow as she noticed Gwendolyn's clenched fists and murder-worthy expression.
"Oh, Gwen, don't let it get to you. You should be grateful he doesn't like you. Imagine having to dance with that grump all night."

Gwendolyn let out a sarcastic huff.
"Grateful? Why? I didn't ask for his approval."
"Don't tell me you're not even a little curious about that cold, broody knight?" Rouge teased with a wicked grin.
"Of course not!" Gwendolyn snapped, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her. "'A means to an end.' Who does he think he is?"

Just then, the torches near them crackled.

"Easy," Rouge giggled, half whispering. "He's just being a pompous knight. They come out of the cradle like that."

Gwendolyn sighed, trying to calm herself down.
"I guess you're right. I shouldn't let it get to me. I'd rather not accidentally set this place on fire."
"Yeah, let's avoid that. People usually don't appreciate some fire-bender torching a hall full of flammable things."
"Maybe I should've stayed in the forge. Safer for everyone."
"Oh, hush." Rouge rolled her eyes, smiling warmly. "You're here, and you're doing just fine. And remember, you're not just a blacksmith. You're a friend. And an extraordinary one at that."

Gwendolyn's shoulders loosened a bit, caught off guard by the comment, her expression softening.

"Thanks, Rouge. Really..."

Rouge placed a hand on her shoulder, her mischievous smile returning.
"Don't mention it, sweetheart. Now, what do you say we get back to the party?"

Gwendolyn let out a breath, then straightened her back with quiet resolve.

Together, they stepped out from behind the column like they'd just plotted something. And in a way, they had.
Gwendolyn's frustration settled into a quiet determination.

She wasn't just a tool at anyone's service. She was much more than that.

And tonight, she planned to remind herself of it...
...and maybe, just maybe, remind a certain knight as well.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The dance was at its peak when Gwendolyn and Rouge lost themselves in the music again. They moved among the guests, their laughter blending with the lively melody. Rouge, ever observant, caught the way Gwendolyn laughed more freely, and let out a delighted cackle.

"Well, would you look at that. The quiet blacksmith actually enjoying the party," she teased, spinning her lightly before joining Blaze at the center.

The three of them danced together, vibrant and full of energy, drawing curious glances from those around them. The air was warm, crackling with the spark of friendship.

From the king's table, Sir Lancelot remained a shadow, watching the spinning dresses and laughter with a brooding intensity.
Inside him, a storm churned: irritation... and something else, harder to name.

"Looks like someone isn't having fun," Tails murmured, leaning toward Sonic.
"Oh, Lance is having fun in his own way," Sonic replied with a small laugh. "Brooding and glaring at everyone still counts, doesn't it?"

After another chuckle, Tails stood up.
"Well... I'm going to check on the girls."
"Sure. Let Lance stew in his own bad mood," Sonic said, amused.

Once Tails was gone, Sonic turned to Lancelot.
"You planning on scowling there all night, or are you going to do something useful?"

Lancelot looked back at him with a calm, tight edge.
"I am here as long as required, Your Majesty."
"And participating with the enthusiasm of a rock? Give your dramatic silence a break."

Lancelot drew in a slow breath, as if it physically pained him to admit it.
"This event... is not to my liking, Your Majesty."
"Not to your liking? You're a knight of my Round Table. Like it or not, you're expected to attend. And more importantly, to participate."

A long silence followed before Lancelot clenched his jaw, nodding stiffly.
"As you command, my lord."

Satisfied, Sonic leaned back with a grin.
"Good. Now go, socialize, dance. And for Chaos' sake, stop looking at everyone like you're about to rip their heads off."

Reluctantly, Lancelot stood, his movements precise and controlled.
As he walked away, Sonic watched him go, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort of his knight.

Lancelot moved through the sea of guests with the ease of a soldier cutting through enemies. His eyes found Gwendolyn and her friends again, dancing with effortless joy.
A vague discomfort twisted in his stomach.

Envy? Frustration? Or was it simply that he had never felt that at ease around people?

Rouge spotted him instantly.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," she whispered in Gwendolyn's ear, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips. "I bet the king gave him quite the talking-to."

Gwendolyn shot a quick glance at Lancelot, catching him trying, awkwardly, to engage with a nearby group of nobles. Her lips twitched.
"Let's see how long he lasts."
"Oh, this is going to be fun."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The conversation buzzed on, lively and bright. Percival was unusually attentive to Blaze, who returned his smiles with shy glances. Gwendolyn and Rouge exchanged a look that said, oh, this is going to get interesting.

"Blaze is a treasure in the herb market," Rouge teased.
"Oh, absolutely," Tails added. "Best seller on Tuesday herb days."
"A woman with that much talent deserves every bit of admiration," Percival said warmly, making Blaze blush.

That's when Lancelot walked over.

His mere presence shifted the temperature around them.
But Rouge didn't flinch.

"Remember that lovesick fisherman who painted Blaze's portrait in watercolors?" she said with wicked amusement.
"He must've been smitten," Tails laughed.

Blaze shifted, uncomfortable, and Gwendolyn noticed, steering the conversation with practiced ease.
"Well... the portrait wasn't exactly flattering. There are less risky ways to court a lady."
"Ah, painting," Percival chuckled. "It can inspire love... or kill it on the spot."

"And what would you recommend, Lady Gwendolyn? For... winning a lady's affection,"
Lancelot's voice cut in.
Cold.
Calculated.

The group fell silent.

Gwendolyn turned to him, calm, but her eyes sparked.
"They say affection grows from respect," she replied, her tone almost sweet. "Even between people who think themselves too important to offer it." She paused, letting it hang. "But if that fails, dancing helps too. Of course... it only works if your partner isn't just 'competent'... or 'a means to an end.'"

The silence that followed was worse.
Smooth. Precise. Lethal.

Lancelot blinked.
For a heartbeat, his icy mask cracked.
"Are you implying that I—"
"Implying?" Gwendolyn's brow lifted, voice like silk. "Please... I don't value your opinions enough to imply anything." She took a step back, her gaze steady. "I would never expect kindness from someone who confuses worth with pride."

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then gave a bow—elegant, but anything but respectful—and turned away.

The laughter that had been contained burst the moment she left.

"Was that a rejection or an execution?" Gawain whispered.
"Both," Percival laughed, nearly doubling over.
"Maybe he'll finally learn not to underestimate the people around him," Rouge smirked.

Lancelot stood frozen. Hurt. Furious.

Humiliated.

As the laughter rippled through the group, he retreated to the shadows of the hall, pride in shards. His expression was a tight coil of rage and shame.

For the first time in years, someone had gotten under his skin... and he hated it.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

After the confrontation, Tails returned to the king, trying hard not to look as amused as he felt.
"Your Majesty... something happened."

Sonic raised an eyebrow.
"What happened?"
"Remember when you said Gwendolyn and Lancelot would have an 'interesting conversation'? Well... they had it. Let's just say Gwendolyn left him speechless. In public. It was like watching a play, but with real knives."

Sonic sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Of course. Lancelot's pride again. What did he say this time?"
"I think he called her 'competent' and 'a means to an end.' She answered with silk... and blades."
"She humiliated him?"
"Without raising her voice."
"Hah! I can just imagine his face... pure gold." Sonic glanced toward the shadowy corner where his knight brooded in misery. "Good for Gwendolyn. After what he said, he deserves it."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure this is the end of it," Tails said, more serious. "If they cross paths again tonight, things could get tense."

Sonic exhaled and nodded.
"You're right. Gwendolyn doesn't strike me as the type to let herself get stepped on. But Lancelot... he doesn't take humiliation well."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Outside the hall, Gwendolyn adjusted her cloak as she stepped into the crisp night air. A small, satisfied smile played at her lips as she remembered Lancelot's stunned expression.
She let out a soft laugh, watching her breath curl in the cold, and walked off with light steps, almost dancing over the damp cobblestones.

She'd won. And for once, she hadn't needed her magic to leave someone burning on the inside.

From a window above, Rouge watched her go.
"I bet she feels pretty pleased with herself," she remarked.
"After seeing Lancelot's face, I'm not surprised," Gawain muttered.
Blaze crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful.
"They're the same. Strong, proud... and dangerous when they clash."
"And if they clash again..." Percival whispered, "it might not stop at words next time."

What none of them knew...
was that the real flames hadn't even started burning yet.

Chapter Text

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The night had turned suspiciously quiet as Gwendolyn made her way south, the darkness pressing hard against her chest.

Only a few timid crickets and the occasional whisper of wind dared to break the stillness. Her steady steps echoed over the rain-slicked cobblestones, while her mind was pure chaos.

She kept thinking about the knights, though one face refused to leave her thoughts: Lancelot.

The image of his rage-flushed face pulled a smirk from her.
She'd humiliated him effortlessly, twisting his ego against him. That mocking little salute? Priceless.

Gwendolyn didn't always win, but when she did... gods, it was glorious.

A sharp crack yanked her out of her thoughts.
She stopped, alert.
The sound hit the silence like bones snapping under a boot. Gwendolyn scanned the shadows, every muscle on edge.

Then came that noise.

Sticky. Grotesque. Like someone slurping soup... made of meat.
Her skin prickled. She pulled her hood up with an automatic tug.

That sound had no business being out in the quiet streets of Camelot.
Everyone was still at the ball. No one else should've been out this late.

Everything in her screamed to leave. But her cursed curiosity, and that annoying sense of duty, rooted her in place.

She took a breath, channeled her magic—
And vanished into an invisible breeze. Silent. Undetectable. With a single purpose: find out what the hell was making that revolting sound.

As she drifted through shadows and dry leaves, the sound grew louder.
And more revolting.

It led her to the alley beside the library, where the air turned dense and freezing. Ahead, moonlight poured down on a crouched silhouette, hovering over something.

Gwendolyn turned the corner and saw it.

Her stomach churned.

A creature was eating. Or rather... devouring what had once been a mobian.
Blood was everywhere. Claws sliced through flesh like blades through silk. Leathery wings stretched in grotesque shapes, casting warped shadows like some mutated bat.

Its face was a nightmare: a twisted wolfish snout dripping with blood and saliva.
Not quite mobian. Not quite animal.
A nightmare hybrid.

The thing paused mid-feast and lifted its head. Gwendolyn froze in her wind-form as those wild eyes searched the dark.
It couldn't see her. But it sniffed the air like a hound.

"Chaaaaoooosssss..." it rasped, voice scraping like rusted metal.
It stepped forward, dragging its claws along the stone with a screech that set her teeth on edge. Wings twitched with nervous spasms. Head tilted. Searching.

Gwendolyn stayed perfectly still, though her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

"Who's there? Where are you?" it shrieked, slashing at the air.

One swipe came so close she felt the wind on her cheek. She bit her tongue not to gasp.

"I can smell it... the Chaos Emerald..." it growled, drooling with greed. "Give it to me!"

Her hand flew to the bandana on her forehead, feeling the faint pulse of the crimson gem embedded beneath it.

Ah. So that's what it wanted.

The realization chilled her.
How could it sense her, even like this?
What the hell was this thing? A failed magical experiment? Some villain-wannabe abomination?

Before she could figure out a plan, laughter rang out across the street.

Two girls, looked like a goat and a sheep, were walking back from the ball, arms linked, giggling.

The creature turned, sniffing again. Its eyes locked on them. A low, predatory growl rumbled from its chest.

It crouched, coiled like a spring.

No! Gwendolyn's heart stuttered.

She began pulling the wind, prepping to act. Leaves swirled in a small cyclone around her.

But she wasn't fast enough.

The creature lunged, forgetting the emerald. All that mattered now was the girls.
It moved with beastly speed, driven by one thing: hunger.

Gwendolyn held her breath as the monster roared in front of them.
Its massive frame blocked the street, wings spread like death itself.
The laughter vanished, replaced by terrified screams.
The girls froze. And Gwendolyn felt panic grip her chest.

The monster loomed over them, fangs gleaming, drooling like dinner had just been served.
The shadows flickered across its blood-soaked body, and their screams only seemed to whet its appetite.

Before it could strike, a sharp pulse ignited in Gwendolyn's forehead.
Her magic surged.

With a flick of her wrist, the torches lining the walls twisted and spun, coiling into a fireball that shot through the night and exploded against the creature's skull.

Heat and light knocked it back, roaring in pain.

Gwendolyn burst from the alley just in time to see the two women bolt toward the town hall, screaming like their lives depended on it.

For a second, relief washed over her.

They were safe.

But peace never lasts long when you've got a magical gemstone in your forehead,
and something that wants it.

The creature staggered upright, smoke curling from its scorched fur.
When its bloodshot eyes locked on Gwendolyn, her skin crawled.

She'd ruined its meal.
And it was not pleased.

"YOU!" the monster spat.

Gwendolyn tensed.
Every instinct screamed Run.
So she didn't hesitate.

She slammed her foot down, raising a wall of earth between them. It bought her seconds... just enough to spark another flame and hurl herself into the darkness.

Behind her, the monster's roars shattered the silence.
The thunder of its wings, the screech of claws on stone. It sounded like something dragged straight from a nightmare.

"GIVE ME THE CHAOS EMERALD!" it bellowed, voice so guttural it turned her blood cold.
"I CAN SMELL IT ON YOU!"

Gwendolyn gasped for breath as she ran like her life depended on it.
Which, to be fair... was exactly what she was doing.

Her legs burned.
The emerald throbbed on her forehead, pulsing with heat and warning.
She couldn't let it catch her. Not here.
Not where others could get hurt.

The town lights faded behind her as she crossed the bridge into the outskirts.
Cobblestone turned to dirt.
And the Blackthorn Forest rose ahead like a wall of shadows and trees.

It was a place even hunters avoided. The branches seemed to move on their own, and more than one explorer claimed to have heard laughter among the trunks.

Gwendolyn had no intention of going deeper. But she also had no choice.

She veered between trunks, footsteps muffled by leaves. The creature's roars still echoed, but the forest swallowed the sound, cloaking her escape.

She reached a clearing and stopped, chest burning. Spun around fast, flames igniting at her fingertips, setting dry grass ablaze.

She had to use the forest. Turn it into a weapon.

The monster burst in seconds later, wings tucked close as it scanned her, starving, full of hate.

"What the hell are you?! And who do you think you are?!" Gwendolyn shouted, steady despite the fear churning in her gut.

The creature twisted its maw into a grotesque grin under the moonlight.
"What I was doesn't matter," it rasped, wings unfurling again as it crouched to strike. "I am a servant of Chaos... a creature of shadow... and I serve the Dark One!"

Gwendolyn's throat tightened.

The Dark One.
Sounds cute, right? Like someone who gives flowers and burns kingdoms for fun.
Whoever they were, they'd made this thing into a living nightmare.

She clenched her jaw, needing answers.
"You were something? What happened to you? Who did this?"

It let out a half-laugh, half-snarl and lunged.

But she dodged fast. The creature was enjoying this.
"My Master... the Dark One... gave me power! Power your pathetic kind could never comprehend!" it howled with a wild gleam in its eyes.

"Power? And the price?" she shouted, horror and fury twisting inside her. "You've turned into a monster!"
"Monster?" it bellowed. "I'm perfection! And with the Chaos Emeralds, I'll be unstoppable!'"

Gwendolyn's heart lurched.
It wasn't just her emerald. This was bigger.
Darker.

She swallowed, but her voice came out strong.
"Why did you kill that man? He had nothing to do with the emeralds! Why hunt them?!"

The creature let out a low, sickening laugh.
"The Chaos Emeralds are the key... to unleashing darkness upon this world. And I won't stop until I have them all!"

Gwendolyn's blood turned to ice.
This went far beyond her. Beyond Camelot.

She gritted her teeth.
Fire flared brighter in her palms, curling around her.
"Then you won't get this one. Not tonight."

The creature's grin widened, claws sinking into the dirt.
"Then I'll rip it from your corpse!" it roared, and launched forward with terrifying speed.

But when its claws hit the ground... there was no one there.

Gwendolyn had vanished into the wind, leaving the creature snarling in frustration. It beat its wings furiously, searching.
"Where are you?!" it howled.

The answer came in a burst of flame.
Gwendolyn reappeared behind it, two fireballs blazing toward its back. They engulfed the beast in flames, and for a moment, she thought she'd done it.

But no.

The creature turned slowly. Its fur barely singed. Its red eyes burned with raw hatred.
It was very, very angry.
"You think fire can stop me?!" it roared, wings snapping open with rage and arrogance. "I'm no fragile mortal you can reduce to ashes! I serve the Lord of Chaos! I am beyond your comprehension!"

Each word landed like a blow, dripping with venom.
The air grew heavy, her flames flickering in response to its iron will.

She braced herself, ready to strike or dodge.
But her stomach twisted as she watched the creature convulse, twisting into shapes that defied every law of biology, physics, and common sense.

Muscles bulged grotesquely.
Its fur pulled back, revealing thick, scale-like skin that gleamed wickedly under the moonlight.
Its limbs stretched longer, stronger, and its claws transformed into blades meant to tear through entire villages.
Its snout extended into a dragon's jaw, fangs glinting—ready to chew through armor.

From its spine, crimson crests erupted.
And with a repulsive crack, massive wings burst from its shoulders, casting a shadow so immense the ground itself seemed to buckle beneath its weight.

It was no longer just a creature.
It was a fusion of mobian, dragon, and chaos.

The monster's burning eyes locked onto Gwendolyn. Before she could move, it lunged at a speed that mocked reality. Claws sliced through the air with deadly precision.

Gwendolyn barely reacted, turning just in time, her body dissolving into a vortex of flaming mist, slipping away by a hair's breadth.

The spot where she'd stood exploded in shards of dirt.

Gwendolyn inhaled sharply and focused.
The runes lit on their own, forming erratic circles as if the magic already knew what she needed.
Symbols sparked with every emotion—rage, fear, doubt.

The clearing glowed.
A larger fireball launched at the creature.

To her horror, the monster swatted it aside like a pesky fly, growling with contempt as it spread its wings and unleashed a gust that shook the trees.
Then it charged again, tireless. Unrelenting.

The clearing became a battlefield.
The earth quaked beneath them.
Runes spun over her palms as she summoned walls of stone, only to watch them shatter like crackers beneath its claws.

Gwendolyn dodged, using every ounce of elemental control to stay alive.
Fire, earth, air... none of it truly hurt it.
It was faster. Stronger.
And it didn't stop attacking.

This wasn't just a creature.
It was a thing built for war.

In one lunge, Gwendolyn tried to shift tactics.
Too late—a claw grazed her side.

Pain ripped through her like lightning.
She stumbled, gritting her teeth as blood soaked her dress.

Fantastic. Just what she needed.

"Not yet..." she whispered, summoning what little energy remained as runes formed around her once more.

With a firm gesture, the lines blazed like liquid fire, weaving into impossible patterns that rose into a wall of roaring flame.
It hissed and cracked. A serpent of light casting wild shadows across the chaos.

Gwendolyn was gasping.
She just needed a breath.
Ten seconds. That was all.

But of course, the monster wasn't interested in breaks.

It laughed—a low, guttural sound that scraped down her spine.
"Is that all you've got?" it taunted, wings snapping wide with a sharp crack.

With a brutal leap, it soared over the fire wall like it was nothing.
Its silhouette tore across the night sky like a winged nightmare, fangs bared, claws outstretched.

Gwendolyn stood her ground. The red emerald on her forehead pulsed, burning with a brightness she'd never felt before.

Since when did it react like this?

With a flick of her hand, the glowing circles around her broke into floating rings, spinning in tight orbits.
The ground vibrated as a beam of light extended from her forehead.
As if the emerald had awakened, linking her to something older, deeper... and far more dangerous.

The sky seemed to darken as the creature's roar shook the branches once more.

And deep inside, she knew:
Getting out alive would be nearly impossible.

But even harder...
would be not fighting back.

Chapter Text

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The grand hall pulsed with music, laughter, and voices that bounced off the gilded walls as if nothing could possibly go wrong. Guests twirled across the dance floor, blissfully unaware of the horror brewing outside.

Peace shattered when the heavy doors slammed open.

Two girls burst in, pale as marble, eyes wide with terror.
"A demon! A demon! Please, someone help!" they screamed, their voices high and trembling.

The music stopped. Joy drained from the air. Silence fell like a held breath. Then whispers rose, spreading like wildfire.

At the far end, King Sonic and his knights, mid-joke just a moment ago, shot to their feet. Their expressions hardened instantly.
Sonic stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding.
"What's happening here?"
The goat girl tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.
"P-Please... help us..." she stammered, frozen in fear.

Sonic exchanged a sharp look with his knights, then leaned slightly toward her, his tone more direct.
"Breathe. Tell us what happened."
The two girls hesitated. Then, the sheep finally managed to speak, her voice cracking.
"W-We were attacked... by a monster..."

The word hung in the air like a dark cloud. The crowd stirred. The knights stiffened.

"Monster? What kind of monster?" Sonic asked, frowning.
"It looked like a wolf... but not a normal one. Dark gray. Huge wings... claws like—" The sheep shivered just recalling it.

Sonic clenched his jaw. That wasn't an animal. That was something worse.
He glanced at his knights. Silence.
"Did it hurt you?" he asked, gently.
They shook their heads, though their trembling hands told another story.
"It tried to... it was going to eat us—" the goat sobbed. "B-But someone stopped it..."

Sonic raised a brow.
"Someone?"
"Yes!" the sheep burst out. "A fireball came out of nowhere! Hit it in the face. Burned it! Then this person ran... and the monster chased them. South."
There was more than fear on her face. There was gratitude.

Sonic fell silent.
A fireball? In Camelot? Where magic is forbidden?
"Toward the Blackthorn Forest?"
The goat nodded, barely.
"Y-Yes... the forest..."

The king straightened. He looked to his knights. They were ready.
"The Blackthorn Forest," he said, voice low. "That's where we'll find the creature. And whoever cast that fireball."
The knights nodded. They knew what that meant: not just a monster. A mysterious savior, too.

Sonic turned back to the girls, his voice gentle again.
"Thank you for telling us. You're safe now. We'll handle this."
They nodded nervously. Sonic turned to his men.
"Gawain, Percival, Lancelot. We move now. Tails, alert the people. No one leaves. No one sets foot outside tonight."

He raised his voice to address the hall.
"Everyone, listen. Stay calm. You're safe in here, but no one leaves until we've confirmed the threat is gone."
His words left no room for doubt. Some guests exhaled shakily. Others stayed frozen. But all trusted their king.

The knights moved with practiced ease, like they'd done this a thousand times. Sonic looked toward the open doors. The Blackthorn Forest wasn't just fog and branches. It was a warning.
Whatever waited for them out there... Sonic knew one thing for certain: it was a threat to Camelot.

"Lancelot, Gawain, gear up. We head south. Straight to the monster. Percival, return to the castle. Mobilize the rest of the knights. Secure the city."
His orders were clear. No room for hesitation.

The knights moved out with steady steps. Sonic was heading for the doors when Tails ran up beside him, worry etched across his face.
"Sonic... be careful out there..."
The king gave him a reassuring smile.
"I will. Stay here and keep the people calm."

Tails nodded, watching Sonic and the others vanish into the night.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The streets were eerily silent, lit only by flickering torches lining the path. Sonic led without hesitation, the looming shadow of the Blackthorn Forest rising ahead like a warning woven from branches.

Tension hung thick in the air. The only sound was the echo of boots on cobblestone.

"That creature... and the fire-wielder," Gawain muttered. "You think they're connected? Whoever used magic knew exactly what they were risking."
Sonic kept his eyes on the road.
"If they used elemental magic, they broke the law. But first: the creature. We deal with the sorcerer after."
Lancelot's voice cut in, sharp as a blade.
"And when we find him, he'll answer for what he's done."

Crossing a stone bridge, Lancelot suddenly halted. Something glinted on the stone in the moonlight. He crouched, brushing his fingers over deep grooves.
"Claw marks. Fresh."
Sonic and Gawain joined him.
"It came through here recently," Sonic confirmed. "Heading into the forest. Let's move."

The three slipped into the woods.

The forest swallowed them whole. The air turned colder. Shadows danced in the silver moonlight. Every crackle of leaves set nerves on edge.
The trees rose like twisted pillars, cloaked in ashen moss and thorns thick as fingers. Moonlight barely filtered through the canopy, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own.

Mist clung low to the ground like a cold breath, hiding treacherous roots beneath its veil.
Everything around them felt... watchful. As if the forest itself was listening. Waiting for something to go wrong.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Gwendolyn stood in the clearing, firelight and glowing runes flickering around her. She was breathing hard, but she didn't back down. The beast circled her, eyes blazing with hate, wings twitching with anticipation.

The forest already bore the scars: scorched ground, clawed-up trees, ash drifting through the air like a grim snowfall.

The creature lunged again. Gwendolyn barely dodged. Wind twisted around her like an invisible serpent, charged with static as she shifted her element.

She wouldn't give in. But exhaustion was written on her face. She reached for her inhibitor bracelet and twisted it sharply to the right.

A surge of energy tore through her body. Flames erupted in a flash. Spears of fire shot outward. The beast dodged most, but one struck its shoulder, making it wobble just a little.

"You're tougher than I thought," Gwendolyn muttered, feeling her aura blaze.
The monster stopped. It growled... and grinned.
"You'll burn out soon... and when you do, that emerald will be mine."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Not far away, Sonic and his knights froze as a bone-chilling roar echoed through the trees. They exchanged a glance. No words needed.

They were close.

They moved without hesitation, swords drawn, senses sharp.

Gwendolyn felt the bracelet's energy draining. Her breath came faster. The runes around her flickered. The monster charged again, claws slicing the air. She dodged by inches, its breath brushing the back of her neck.

The flames roared just as Sonic, Gawain, and Lancelot pushed through the underbrush, drawn by the sound. The trees closed in behind them like a prison. At the edge of the clearing, they dropped low.

Before them: the monster, looming in the firelight. And across from it, a hooded figure with embers glowing along their body, standing alone against the beast. A glowing arc of symbols sliced through the air, exploding against the creature in a rain of fire. The spell hit hard—and left the figure visibly weakened.

"We need to move. Take them both," Gawain whispered, tense.
Sonic held up a hand, eyes fixed on the fight.
"Not yet. We need to understand what's happening."
Lancelot's grip tightened around his sword.
"Every second we wait, this gets more dangerous."

Then the monster and the fire-bender collided. The impact sent them both flying. The figure landed lightly, but struggled to rise. The runes flickered like dying candles.

From their cover, the knights saw the tremble in their posture. The heavy breathing.

Sonic gave the signal and stepped into the open.
"Stop right there!" His voice cut through the heat like a blade.

The figure froze. The flames snuffed out in an instant.

Under the hood, Gwendolyn's heart thundered like a war drum.
They couldn't see her. They couldn't find out. She began to step backward, slowly, melting into the shadows.

But before the knights could move, the beast rose again, laughing. A guttural, rasping sound. Its crimson eyes locked onto Sonic.
"Well, well... if it isn't the mighty King Sonic himself," it sneered, voice thick with mockery.
"You dare show yourself to me?" Sonic growled.

The knights readied their blades. Tension snapped like wire. Gwendolyn took advantage of the chaos. One step, two... vanishing into shadows.

But—

"He's escaping!"
Lancelot had already spotted her.

"Don't let him get away!" Sonic ordered.
In a blink, Lancelot was gone—chasing after the figure like a bolt of lightning.

The beast, still standing, planted itself before Sonic and Gawain, wings flared wide in warning.
"You stole my prey! My treasure! You'll all pay for that!"
Sonic stepped forward, his presence calm but charged with danger.
"You're surrounded. Surrender now, and this ends without blood."

The beast barked a laugh. A swipe cut the air.
"Surrender? You think I fear you, hedgehog? I'll tear you apart!"
Its roar shook the clearing as it lunged. Claws bared.

Sonic and Gawain moved as one, barely dodging. Sparks flew as claws scraped metal, the impact echoing through the forest.
The blows came fast, savage, wild. Each strike could snap a tree in half. Sonic fought with precise fury. Gawain, methodical and strong, turned chaos into defense.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Gwendolyn ran deeper into the forest, lungs burning with every desperate breath. The claw wound throbbed with rage, her legs screamed, and her mind repeated only one thing: keep running.

But the footsteps behind her—heavy, relentless—never faltered.
Lancelot was gaining on her. She could hear it. His determination hit like an anvil slamming down.

It wasn't just the fear of dying.
It was the fear of being seen. Of losing everything she'd protected. Her secret, her friends, her life... with a single glance. Panic crushed her chest as the emerald pulsed at her forehead.

In a last act of desperation, she twisted her inhibitor bracelet again. The jolt hit like lightning, hot and wild. The air crackled, vibrating like glass about to shatter. With a sharp breath, she vanished just as Lancelot lunged forward.

He skidded to a halt, sharp gaze slicing through the empty clearing. The forest held its breath with him. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing.
He clenched his jaw, frustration blazing beneath his skin.
"Damn it," he muttered, scanning every shadow. "He couldn't have gone far..."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Just ahead, the fugitive reappeared in a small clearing, dropping to their knees, gasping. Their hands trembled, the energy boost fading like smoke between their fingers.
I lost him, they thought.

For one second, just one, they allowed themselves to believe they were safe.

Until—

"There you are."

The voice sliced down their spine like a blade of ice. Cold. Sharp. Unsheathed steel.
Their body locked up. They cursed under their breath.

Of course.
He had to be the one to find them.

Him.

Lancelot emerged beneath the moonlight, towering. His voice held a mocking tilt, but his eyes burned cold behind the visor.
"Did you really think you could outrun me? Vanish into thin air and I wouldn't follow?" He took a step closer. "Clever... but not clever enough."

The hooded figure pushed to their feet, still cloaked, every muscle wound tight. They didn't speak. Mind spinning, but their body was running on fumes.

Lancelot began to circle them, one hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Hiding behind that cloak won't save you. I'll tear it off myself if I have to." His voice danced between irritation and dangerous amusement. "You can't hide from me. Not for long."

The cloaked figure remained still. Watching. Calculating. Ready to bolt if needed.

"What's wrong?" he taunted. "Afraid I'll see who you are? Don't bother. I will find out."

The silence stretched between them, tight as a bowstring. Until the fugitive let out a soft, defiant laugh. Barely audible. But it hit like a slap.

Lancelot's smirk vanished. A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes.
"Oh, you think this is funny?" he snapped. "You think this is a game?"

Nothing. Just that loaded silence. A wall between them. And it worked.
Too well.

Lancelot stepped in closer, his voice low.
"Defiant and arrogant. You're making this worse for yourself."

The air thickened, charged. And then—

He lunged.

The figure reacted instantly, carving quick symbols into the air. A flash of fire erupted. Just enough to push Lancelot back. Sparks snapped through the shadows.

He didn't flinch.
Instead, he smiled.
"Was that a warning... or a threat?"
The fire pulsed with their breath, mirroring their fear—or their pride.
"You won't stop me with sparks," he said, stepping straight through the flame. It licked his cloak, but he didn't blink.

The sorcerer took one step back. Lancelot noticed.
"Now you're afraid?" he whispered, blade gleaming in his hand.
The figure stiffened at the sight of that sword. The very one forged by their own hands. And they had no strength left. No escape.

Lancelot kept advancing, slow and steady. That wicked smile still curled on his lips. Until—

He stopped.
And noticed something...

A  scent ...

It wasn't just the fire or the ash clinging to the air... it was something else. Earthy. Subtle. Strange.

And calming.

His eyes widened slightly as the thought struck him.
This wasn't just a sorcerer who wielded fire.

This was...
a woman.

His heart faltered, the revelation crashing over him like cold water.

How had he not seen it before?

The way the cloak clung to a smaller frame. The grace in her movements. That scent.
She'd been right in front of him, and he hadn't seen her coming.

He clenched his jaw, frustration doubling.
She'd been under his nose this whole time.
And he'd been blind to it.

It made his blood boil. And something else he couldn't name.
"You've been running from me all night," he said, voice tight. "But this ends here."

Beneath the hood, Gwendolyn smirked, barely. Just enough. The moon caught her face for a moment.

And yes.
He saw it.
And he hated what it did to him.

She didn't move. She dared him to strike first.

Something ignited in his chest.
Anger.
But something else too... Intrigue.

Who the hell was this woman?

He watched her, scanning the way she breathed, the way the cloak shifted against her shape.
He was ready. Just one step away from uncovering her face.

Lancelot raised his hand, slow and precise. Every movement calculated, every breath short but firm. His fingers hovered just inches from the edge of her hood, trembling with anticipation... and something deeper. Something unspoken.

The air crackled. His mind screamed at him to fulfill his duty.
But something about her held him. A hook caught deep in his chest.

She tensed. He felt it. Like a wave moving through the air.
She was ready. To fight. To flee.
Just like him.
Both frozen in a battle of stillness.

Then it happened.

His fingers brushed the fabric.

Just for a second.
But it was like lightning in his veins.

Gwendolyn's head snapped up. Their eyes locked.
And the world—stopped.

The forest. The distant sounds of battle. The weight of the mission. All blurred into silence.
There was only her.
And that moment.

Her eyes were embers. Defiant, wild.
It wasn't fear. It was something fiercer.
It tore through his armor like paper.
For the first time in a long while, Lancelot felt... shaken.

The breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as he stared at her, trapped in those eyes. He saw exhaustion, determination, and a flicker of panic she fought to hide.

And something else: confusion. Frustration. That pull—wild and wordless—that knocked the wind from him.

Gwendolyn felt it too. Adrenaline mixed with something more.
Not just fear.
Proximity.
That gaze.
The danger. Not just of this moment, but of what she felt.

Lancelot's fingers tightened around the edge of the hood, new resolve burning in his chest.

He had to see her. Know her. End this chase that was driving him mad.

He began to pull it back—

And she vanished.

In a blink, she was gone.
A breath of wind, a shimmer of silver mist, and faint warmth lingering like a whisper.

His hand clenched on nothing. The cloak slipped through his fingers like a laugh in the dark.
He gritted his teeth, a growl low in his throat.
"Damn it!" he hissed, eyes locked on the empty clearing.
His body buzzed with rage.

How did she do it?
How had she slipped away the moment he had her?

And worse...
How had she shaken him like that?

He replayed it—her gaze, that smile, the scent that haunted him. An echo that refused to fade.
He shook his head, trying to erase her.
She couldn't be a distraction.
But she already was.

"You can run, fire sorceress," he growled, voice low and dangerous, "but this isn't over."

She was smart. Cunning.
And infuriatingly slippery.
But she couldn't hide forever.

He would find her.
And when he did, there would be no more games.

He thought of her eyes again. That fire burning in defiance. And as he turned toward the forest, scanning the shadows for signs of her escape, he told himself this was duty. Justice.
But deep down...
he couldn't deny the truth clawing at his chest.

She wasn't just a criminal anymore.
She was a mystery.
And mysteries... consumed him.

Next time, he swore, she wouldn't vanish into smoke.
Not again.
He'd uncover every secret she was hiding.
No matter the cost.

Because for the first time, Lancelot understood something that made his stomach turn—and set his chest on fire.

The sorceress wouldn't just be another fugitive.

She was becoming something far more dangerous.
Something much more difficult to cage.

Chapter Text

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In Camelot, Percival didn't waste a second. As soon as the order came, he rallied the knights and set the defense in motion.

The town hall was bursting with nervous citizens, their faces so pale it looked like they'd seen ghosts. Families huddled together, elders wrapping arms around children as fear drifted through the chamber like a cold whisper.

Percival entered with steady steps and a stern face, but his calm—so uniquely his—brought a flicker of peace.

"Citizens of Camelot," he called out. "Stay calm. The King and his knights are facing the threat. We will protect this city, I promise you."

In the crowd, Blaze, Rouge, and Tails stood close, as if touch alone could keep the anxiety from swallowing them whole.

Blaze leaned toward Tails, whispering,
"You think Gwendolyn's out there? That... she's the one who...?"
"Could be," he murmured back. "And if she is... she's in serious danger."

He didn't finish. Neither of them wanted to say it out loud.

Rouge, ever the queen under pressure, stepped in with her signature poise.
"Gwendolyn's smart. She knows how to handle herself. But yeah... if they catch her, it won't end well."
Blaze clenched her fists.
"What if the creature finds her first? We should've done something."
Rouge placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Regret won't help now. All we can do is hope she's safe."

Just then, Percival approached, his steps calm, gaze sharp.
"Ladies. Tails. I understand Lady Gwendolyn left the ball early. Did she say where she was headed?"

The three of them tensed. Blaze spoke first, less confident than she'd have liked.
"No... she didn't say. She just left."
Rouge added with a rehearsed smile,
"Gwen's tough. Wherever she is, she'll be alright."

Percival studied them closely. He knew they were hiding something, but didn't press. His eyes lingered a second longer on Blaze before he gave a curt nod.
"If you hear anything, tell me at once."

Then he turned, heading straight for the southern perimeter. His destination: the Blackthorn Forest. The distant howls made his skin crawl, but he didn't flinch. He had a mission: find the beast... and hopefully, the one who had faced it.

The forest grew darker with every step. Trees loomed like shadows. The silence hung thick as fog.

A snap.

Percival froze, hand on his hilt.
The beast was still out there. And so was... a firebender.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Not far off, Sonic and Gawain were still locked in battle. The fight felt endless. The monster had slowed, but its strength remained brutal. Every claw swipe was a threat. Every bite, a close call.

Gawain barely dodged a blow to the chest and struck back with a lunge that landed.
"Finally," he muttered, only to watch the wound knit itself closed.

Sonic clicked his tongue.
"Oh great. It regenerates too? This is gonna be a long night."
"We need a new plan," Gawain panted. "Or this'll just keep looping."

The monster laughed.
"You think you can stop me? Your blades are nothing against my power!"
"You talk a lot for an overgrown lizard," Sonic growled, and charged again.
Another wound. Another instant heal.

Then, through the broken branches, Percival appeared.
"My lords! Apologies for the delay."

Sonic glanced his way, relief in his voice.
"About time! Let's end this."

The three knights moved as one. Their blades flashed under the orange glow of nearby flames. Blow after blow rained down on the creature. It shrieked in panic, no longer amused.

Percival drove his blade into one of its wings. The crunch was sickening. A burst of black magic spilled from the raw flesh. But this time—the wound didn't heal.

Sonic caught it.
"Wait... that wing's not closing."
"My sword," Percival muttered. "It's the only one doing real damage."

The rhythm shifted. The knights pushed harder. The beast faltered, its arrogance crumbling into fear.
"You... you can't defeat me!" it roared, but the bravado was gone.
"Oh shut it, genius gecko," Sonic shot back.

Percival surged forward, his sword glowing. He slammed it into the monster's scaled armored chest, splitting the dark flesh with a gut-wrenching crack.

He strode through smoke and embers, his blade gleaming like lightning. With a clean pivot, he drove it beneath the creature's collarbone. A thick jet of black blood burst into the air like ink in water.

The monster howled and stumbled.

Gawain didn't hesitate. He charged from the flank, slamming one of its legs until it cracked. Sonic ran down the enemy's back, slicing through tendons with precision, as fast as a blue blur.

The beast collapsed.

Percival leapt, raised his sword, and brought it down in a brutal arc across its neck.
A final slash—clean, merciless—cut straight through.
Its last roar shook the earth... then faded. Fallen. Still.

Sonic lowered his blade, breathless.
"Can't believe we actually did it..."
Gawain laughed between gasps.
"And to think Percival was our secret weapon."
"Please," Percival said with a dry smile. "You two did the hard part. I just had the fancy sword."

But just as they thought they could breathe again—

The creature's body began to twitch. Shrinking. Shifting. Its skin turned to fur. Claws to paws. The snout... into the face of a Mobian wolf, still twisted, still bearing those grotesque wings.
A heavy fog settled around them. Thick. Ominous. Unnatural.

The creature, barely clinging to life, let out a weak growl.
"N-no... my lord... I have failed..."

Sonic crouched beside it, eyes sharp.
"Who is your lord? Speak!"
The wolf wheezed,
"Master... sorcerer... Lord... Me..."

And died.

Sonic's expression darkened. The words sent a chill down his spine.
"A sorcerer..."
"Merlin?" Percival asked, like saying the name aloud might summon him.
"Could be him... or something worse," Gawain murmured, waving away the lingering mist. "This wasn't just some beast. There's dark magic behind it."
Sonic nodded grimly.
"Then we need to find that sorcerer before he unleashes more of these things."

A heavy silence followed, thick with uncertainty.

Then Percival blinked, something clicking into place.
"Where's Lancelot?"
"I sent him after the figure that ran away. the Firebender," Sonic said.

Gawain let out a dry laugh.
"Bet he's already making their life miserable."
Sonic smirked... then frowned.
"If that person's connected to the sorcerer—"
"It's too much of a coincidence," Percival cut in. "The creature. The fire. There's a link."

"And we'll find it," Sonic said firmly.
Then he looked down at the corpse.
"Let's bring it back to Camelot. Maybe we'll find some answers."

They exchanged a glance. This wasn't going to be easy.

Gawain groaned.
"This is going to wreck my back..."
Percival sighed and stepped closer.
"The price of victory."
"At least we're not dragging your body this time, Percival," Gawain quipped.
"Oh, shut up."

Sonic stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the wings.
"It'll be easier if we cut them off," he said at last.
Nothing personal. Just efficiency.

The silence that followed was grim.

Gawain and Percival exchanged a look that said this is gonna suck, but neither objected. The King had a point.

Gawain snorted.
"Right. Bet those things weigh as much as Lancelot's ego."

Sonic unsheathed Excalibur without another word. The blade glinted cold under the moonlight. With a solemn expression, he got to work.

The sound of steel slicing through flesh and bone broke the forest's stillness. The wings hit the ground with a wet, unpleasant thud, shining in the low light like something that didn't belong in this world.

Sonic stood tall again, expression unreadable, and hoisted the lighter corpse onto his shoulders. He grunted—not for show. The thing was heavy.

Percival stepped forward at the strain.
"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" he asked, knowing full well Sonic would never admit otherwise.
"I've got it... Just carry the wings," Sonic muttered, adjusting his grip. "And where the hell is Lancelot?"

Gawain groaned as he lifted one wing, heavier than it looked.
"Probably still chasing that Firebender. All the way to the edge of the world."
Percival hauled the other one with effort.
"Or got himself lost. Wouldn't be the first time."

Despite the exhaustion, they allowed themselves a small smile. But the levity vanished the moment leaves crunched underfoot nearby.

All three turned instantly, hands on hilts.

From the shadows, Lancelot emerged—looking like he'd been dragged through half of hell. Fur matted with dirt, sweat dripping, chest heaving.

"Lancelot! Where the hell have you been?" Sonic snapped, straight to the point.
Lancelot straightened, clearly frustrated and out of breath.
"I followed the fugitive... but lost them."
His eyes locked on the body slung over Sonic's shoulder. They widened at the sight of wings, fangs, blood.
"What in Camelot's name is that? A failed dragon experiment?"
"The creature," Sonic replied. "Courtesy of a dark sorcerer. It's dead. But this goes deeper than we thought."

Lancelot's jaw clenched at the word sorcerer. He stepped closer.
"Are you certain?"
"Enough to be worried," Percival said, still hauling the wing. "This wasn't just a monster. There's magic behind it."
Lancelot said nothing, swallowing whatever pride he had left for missing the fight.
"Fine. Let's get it done," he stepped up, hand out to Sonic. "Allow me, Your Majesty."

Sonic studied him for a second... and handed over the body.
"All yours."
Lancelot hefted it with ease, like a cursed sack of grain.
"Always happy to serve," he muttered dryly.

Gawain grinned, never one to miss a jab.
"Nice to see you being useful for once, Sir Lancelot."
Lancelot shot him a murderous glare and adjusted the weight on his shoulder.
"Let's move before the smell attracts something worse."
"Whatever you say, Drama Knight," Gawain huffed, still chuckling.

Percival exhaled, long-suffering.
"That's enough. Let's get back to Camelot."
He adjusted the wing for the fifth time, making it very clear that anyone who spoke again would get smacked with it.

Sonic took the lead. Through dark trees and snapping branches, the knights pressed on. Still tense. Still without answers. But all of them knew one thing:

This wasn't over.

Behind them, the severed wings and the beast's corpse were a graphic reminder of what lay ahead—
A greater threat.
And the shadow of a sorcerer who had no intention of staying hidden.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Back in Camelot, the knights carried the corpse and its wings—neither of which did much for their dignity. The tension between Lancelot and Gawain was thick enough to cut with a sword. Percival, as always, kept quiet, praying they wouldn't kill each other before they got to the castle.

The group came to a halt when a guard ran toward them, pale as a ghost.
"Y-Your Majesty..." he swallowed hard, refusing to look at the body and wings. "We've found... a corpse."

Sonic straightened instantly, fatigue forgotten.
"What corpse? What happened?"
"A man... torn apart. His insides..."
The guard trailed off, unable to continue.

Everyone tensed. Sonic clenched his jaw.
"Take us."

The guard nodded and led them down a poorly lit alley. The stench hit first. Thick, rancid, as if death itself had been left to rot.

By lantern light, the scene came into focus: a Mobian hound, collapsed. Mutilated. Blood everywhere. Parts of his body had crystallized, like shards of obsidian. The same mist from the creature curled around the corpse.

Even the knights swallowed hard. Lancelot, rarely one to lose composure, stared in silence.
"He was ripped apart... Like an animal got to him," he muttered.

Percival looked away, stomach turning. Gawain held it together, but his jaw was tight.
Sonic stepped closer, eyes dark and expression grim.
"This wasn't just any animal."
The guard barely managed to speak.
"It's... Thaddeus the Hound. Treasure hunter. We think it was the creature... or the Firebender."

Sonic's brow furrowed.
"Why would they attack him? They were fighting the creature. It doesn't make sense."
"Maybe it wasn't the Firebender," Gawain offered. "But it's still their fault. Might've drawn the beast here."

Lancelot crouched, inspecting the wounds.
"These look like claw marks. From the beast," he said, glancing at Sonic. "I don't think it was the Firebender."

Sonic exhaled sharply, frustration building.
"Then why are they involved in all this? Who are they protecting? Or serving?"
"What if the Firebender and the sorcerer are connected?" Percival suggested.
"Then we're dealing with something far more dangerous."

Gawain shot Lancelot a glare.
"You were supposed to find that out."
Lancelot turned, exasperated.
"I did follow them! They vanished in front of me!"
"How convenient," Gawain scoffed.

"Enough!" Sonic's voice cracked through the air like thunder. The silence that followed was instant and absolute. "This is bigger than your egos. A man is dead. Focus—or stay back."

No one answered.

Sonic turned back to the corpse, brow set.
"We'll take the creature to the castle. If we can learn anything from it, we will. But I won't let this happen again."

The knights nodded. The argument was over... for now.

Sonic gave the body one last look.
"Did you find anything? Any clue about the Firebender?" he asked Lancelot.

He hesitated.
"I got something..." he replied, tense.
Sonic nodded.
"Good. We'll discuss it at the castle."
Then, to the guard:
"Call the healers. Have them prepare the body. His family doesn't deserve to see him like this."

The soldier saluted and ran off.

Sonic turned back to his knights.
"Take it to the dungeons. Time to focus on what we can control."

They nodded.

Gawain adjusted the wing on his back, muttering,
"This just keeps getting better..."
Lancelot shot him a side glance.
"Quit whining. We've all got jobs to do."
"Funny, coming from the one who let the Firebender get away," Gawain snapped.
Lancelot gritted his teeth.
"Keep pushing me. See what happens."

Before it could explode, Percival stepped between them, eyes narrowed.
"That's enough. You want to fight? Fine. But not now. We've got more than enough enemies without you two joining the list."
Both knights scoffed but shut up.
Percival sighed, feeling more like a nanny than a knight.

At last, they walked in silence. The corpse weighed heavy, like a curse.

They crossed the castle gates. The shadows seemed to fold around them, as if the building itself could sense what they were carrying.
Inside, everything was eerily quiet. Only the echo of their footsteps filled the halls, like the castle was holding its breath.

The knights glanced at one another, exhausted. No one needed to say it—this was already a nightmare.
A sorcerer in the shadows.
A fugitive Firebender.
A kingdom teetering on the edge.

Sometimes, a war doesn't begin with a battle cry.

It begins with a dead creature...
and too many questions left unanswered.

Chapter Text

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Under the dark canopy of Erollyn Forest, Gwendolyn reformed from a gust of wind.
Her body materialized in silence until her feet hit the frozen earth. The impact knocked the breath out of her.

She gasped, each lung protesting as the Emerald pulsed faintly. Staggering toward a nearby tree, she slumped against the rough trunk.
Her heart was still pounding like a war drum.

What was that?

Not just fear. Not just adrenaline. It was... something else.
Something that reached deeper than the claws of that thing.

But she had no time to think about Lancelot.

She pressed a hand to her side, wincing at the pain in her ribs.
"I can't keep doing this..." she muttered, barely audible.
Tiny runes flickered across her bracelet. It had given her the push she needed... but not without a price. Her legs were trembling.

Across the river, a glint of metal betrayed the patrol. Soldiers stood guard on the northeastern bridge, their armor gleaming under the moonlight. Voices floated like tense whispers. They were on high alert.

Of course they were: a monster on the loose and some lunatic hurling fire wouldn't go unnoticed.

Gwendolyn let out a groan.
"Perfect. No way back to Camelot without getting arrested the second I cross."
One look would be enough for someone to start connecting the dots. And if they found out she'd been anywhere near the chaos... her entire life would go down the drain.

She let herself sink a little further against the tree, exhaling as she gazed at the sky sprinkled with stars. But she couldn't stay here. She had to move. Even if her body screamed otherwise.

She looked toward Rouge's house, the herb shop. It was nearby. If she could make it unseen... maybe she could come up with a story. Something like "I was asleep the whole time, I swear."
Not brilliant, but it was something.

She thought of Lancelot... and her stomach twisted. He had gotten too close.
Those crimson eyes had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
What she'd seen in them hadn't just been duty. It was... something else. Something she didn't want to name.

"Focus, Gwendolyn," she told herself, shaking the thought away like a mosquito.

With trembling hands, she pulled her cloak tighter and slipped into the shadows.
Every step was a battle.
The river ahead looked more like an obstacle than a feature of the landscape.

The bridge was guarded.
Swimming across would be suicide.
Walking? Unthinkable.

She waited. Held her breath. Counted steps.

And when the moment came, she vanished—
A whirlwind through the leaves.

No one saw her.

She reached the other side with her heart hammering, but didn't stop. She drifted toward Rouge's house, her mind clinging to one thought: survive.

The house was dark. She peered through the windows.

Silence.

Rouge was probably still at the Town Hall.
Perfect.

She climbed down the chimney—like a stressed-out, ash-covered version of Santa Claus—and landed with a soft thud. The warmth of the room wrapped around her like a hug... impersonal, but welcome.

"Rouge?" she whispered.

Nothing.

"Rouge? Are you here?" she tried again, a little louder.

Still nothing.

Everything was as it always was—trinkets, scattered pillows, that carefully curated chaos that screamed Rouge. But none of it calmed Gwendolyn.

She stood in front of the fire, stomach churning.
Don't fall apart now, she told herself, running a hand through her tangled hair.

But her body wasn't listening. Her knees were shaking, and the gash still burned as if the claws were still there.

She needed to heal.

Dragging herself to the workshop, she rummaged until she found a first-aid kit and patched herself up as best she could. She winced as the alcohol hit the wound.

Then she limped back to the living room and collapsed on the couch like it was her deathbed. The warmth made her drowsy. Her eyelids grew heavy...

Until someone knocked on the door.

Gwendolyn shot upright like a spring. Her heart thundered in her chest.

"Open up! Orders from the King!"

Panic.

Soldiers. House by house. No escape.

She bolted upstairs. Flung open the closet. Dug through it until she found pajamas that were clearly not her size.
Perfect.

She changed in record time. Wiped the soot off her face. Messed up her hair even more. Sprayed herself with perfume, hoping to drown the scent of scorched wood and raw terror.

The knock came again, louder this time.

She stumbled downstairs, put on her best half-asleep face, and opened the door.
"Yes?" she asked, rubbing one eye.
The soldier scanned her with a lantern, from the messy hair to the oversized shirt.
"Sorry to disturb you, miss. We're securing the area. A creature was spotted nearby."

Gwendolyn furrowed her brow, feigning alarm.
"A creature? That's awful."
"Yes. It's part of a larger incident. The king wants to make sure everyone's safe."
She hugged herself, trembling.
"I didn't hear anything... I left the ball early and came straight here. I've been asleep."

As if luck wanted to help her, her stomach growled. Loudly.

The soldier raised an eyebrow.
"You alright? You look a little... shaken."
"I'm fine. Just tired. And hungry. I didn't eat at the ball," she added with a nervous laugh.

The soldier's expression softened.
"I understand. Next time, try not to be alone."
"Thanks... Are my friends okay? Are they still at the ball?"
"Yes. The knights are guarding the Town Hall. But we're still searching. There's a Firebender involved, and the king wants him caught."

Gwendolyn's heart jumped, but her face stayed neutral.
"A firebender? How scary..." she murmured, gripping her sleeves like she needed protection.
"Have you seen anything strange tonight?"
"N-no. Nothing..." she said, her voice trembling, eyes darting in practiced panic.

The soldier studied her a second longer. Then nodded.
"Alright... By order of the king, all citizens must report to the Town Hall until the search is over."

Her soul dropped to the floor.

Go... there?

Her stomach growled again. Gwendolyn cursed it mentally.

The soldier chuckled, breaking the tension.
"Go grab some shoes, miss. I'll wait here."

Gwendolyn nodded quickly, ducked back inside, and slammed the door shut. She leaned against it, breathing deep, as if she could reboot her brain.
"Fantastic..." she whispered, pure sarcasm.

She raced upstairs, grabbed a cloak from Rouge's closet and tied it over the ridiculous purple pajamas. Pulled on the first shoes she found and glanced at herself in the mirror.
"Well... at least I don't look like a criminal. Just a confused girl who ditched the ball for a sleepover."

She opened the door again. The soldier gave her an approving nod.
"Ready? Let's go, then."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The walk to the Town Hall felt like a horror movie disguised as a nighttime stroll.
The empty streets looked like something out of a haunted city.
In the distance, the murmur of a growing crowd buzzed like a swarm.

"How long will we have to stay there?" Gwendolyn asked, trying to sound casual. As if she weren't actively considering faking a faint.
"As long as needed. Until the knights secure the area," the soldier replied, without turning.

When they arrived, the Town Hall was a boiling pot of voices, footsteps, and nerves. Guards everywhere guided confused citizens.
Gwendolyn swallowed hard.
Great time to be at the center of a real-life mystery.

"Name, miss?" asked a guard at the entrance, curt.

She froze for half a second. Then smiled, slightly nervous.
"Gwen. Gwendolyn... the blacksmith."
The guard raised a brow.
"The blacksmith? Weren't you at the ball? What were you doing outside?"
"I was tired... Rouge and I had a sleepover planned. I left early."

The guard stared a moment longer, then write her name down on a scroll and shrugged.
"Alright. Join the others."

Gwendolyn slipped into the crowd, eyes scanning the hall in desperation.
And there they were: Rouge, Tails, and Blaze, tucked into a corner. She let out a breath of relief—just before seeing another soldier approach Rouge.

"Miss, what were your plans after the ball?" he asked in a low voice.

Rouge blinked, glanced at Blaze... then spotted Gwendolyn wrapped in a cloak, wearing her pajamas, with pure guilt on her face.
Her expression shifted, just enough.
"Me? We had a sleepover planned. Lots to talk about."

The soldier nodded, satisfied.
"Thank you, miss. Sorry for the trouble."

As he walked away, Gwendolyn could finally breathe again.

Rouge gave her a knowing look and waved her over. Gwendolyn didn't hesitate.
"Gwen, you look... cozy," Rouge teased.
"Sorry... I took your pajamas and your cloak. I didn't have a choice."
"You owe me an explanation," Rouge murmured, somewhere between a joke and a threat.
"And you'll get one. I promise."

Gwendolyn sank down beside them. Finally sitting. Finally... sort of safe.

Tails and Blaze leaned in, relieved.
"Gwen! You're okay! We were so worried!" Tails exclaimed.
Blaze lowered her voice. Her gaze was serious.
"Gwen... was it you? The Firebender they're talking about?"

She nodded. Just barely.
"I'll tell you everything... once we're somewhere safe."

Her friends exchanged worried glances. They knew whatever she was carrying... wasn't light.

Tails placed a hand on her arm.
"We'll figure this out. You don't have to carry it alone."
Blaze nodded—firm, but gentle.
"Breathe. We're here. But you need to calm down."

Gwendolyn took a deep breath.
Tails glanced at her wrists... and his expression hardened when he saw the inhibitor ring.
"You used the booster twice?" he whispered, a mix of scolding and concern.
He inspected the gold, noticing the pair of dead runes.

"I had to," Gwendolyn's voice cracked, worn thin.
Blaze wrapped an arm around her.
"You can't keep putting yourself at risk like this. It's dangerous."
"I know. I promise... I'll only use it if there's no other choice."

Tails eased his expression, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.
"You have to take care of yourself, Gwen."

And then... her stomach growled again.
Loud. Dramatic.

Rouge snorted quietly, patting her back.
"Let's start by feeding you. You're running on fumes."
"Thanks, Rouge..." Gwendolyn murmured, offering a small, honest smile.

Rouge stood to fetch rations.
Blaze gave Gwen's arm a squeeze.
"We'll keep a low profile. For now, just rest."
Tails added with a calm smile,
"We've got you. No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

Gwendolyn closed her eyes for a moment.

The alibi was solid. No one could tie her directly to what happened.
And the warmth of her friends... gave her a sliver of peace.

And for now, that was enough.

Even as the world trembled around them, even as secrets weighed like stones and danger loomed beyond the walls...

At least tonight, she didn't have to face it alone.

Chapter Text

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The cold air of the dungeons clung to Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival like a wet blanket as they descended the stone corridors beneath the castle. The torches barely lit the walls, casting warped shadows that twisted and curled with every step.

The monster's limp body hung over Lancelot's shoulders, while Gawain and Percival dragged its severed wings behind them, wearing identical looks of disgust and deep regret for their life choices.

"This thing is revolting... in every possible way," Percival muttered, wrinkling his nose. "What the hell was it? I've never seen anything like it."
"And I hope we never see it again," Gawain snapped, eyeing the wings. "I still can't believe we hauled this all the way down here. We look like three idiots stumbling out of a butcher shop from hell."

Lancelot said nothing. Carrying the body was easier than chewing on the bad mood gnawing at his chest.
"We're almost there," he grunted without looking back.

They entered a circular chamber, colder than the rest. In the center stood a reinforced iron cage, waiting.

With a dull thud, they dropped the body inside. Its limbs collapsed like a bag of broken bones, grotesquely twisted.

Percival stepped back, uneasy.
"Are we sure it's dead?"
Gawain rolled his eyes.
"It's not moving, is it? What do you want, a goodbye letter?"
"I'm just saying. It healed so fast during the fight. What if it suddenly...?"

"It's dead," Lancelot cut in, flat as stone. He slammed the cage door shut and turned the key with a growl. "And if it's not, it'll wish it was."

Percival muttered, eyes still on the twisted corpse.
"Imagine if it wasn't... after the king cut off its wings..."
"You're an idiot, Percival," Gawain spat, exasperated. "It's clearly dead. Look at it."

"I'm just saying it'd be bad if it wasn't," Percival replied, arms crossed.
"For the love of chaos, shut up!" Gawain turned toward him, fists clenched. "What part of 'dead' don't you get? The 'd'? The 'e'?"
"Oof, touchy. You scared it'll come back just to go for you first?"

Gawain growled.
"I'm not touchy! You're wasting time with your dumb theories!" He stepped forward, then paused, grin crooked. "Unless you're volunteering to stay here and babysit it overnight."

The tension spiked.
But Gawain wasn't done.

"And speaking of idiocies... this other genius let the firebender slip away in the forest."

Lancelot shot him a cold look. His voice dropped two octaves.
"Watch your mouth, Gawain. She didn't escape. She evaded me. There's a difference."
"Oh, sure. 'Evaded.' That sounds so much better," Gawain said, leaning against the cage with that trademark irritating smirk. "Didn't know losing hit you so hard, Lancelot."

Lancelot's fists clenched.
Percival's brain finally caught up, slicing through the tension.
"Wait, wait... Did you say she? How do you know it's a woman?"
Lancelot hesitated. His jaw locked.
"I just do." He looked away.

Silence. The three of them froze.

Gawain raised his brows, delighted.
"Aha! So she got to you, huh?"
Lancelot's glare could've frozen lava.
"Say one more word..."

But Gawain was already rolling.
"What's wrong, Lance? Hurt she was smarter? Faster? Better?"
"Gawain..." Lancelot growled, fangs bared.
"Oh no. It hurt! The great Lancelot, outwitted by a girl." He drew out the word with poisonous glee.

Percival couldn't help it—he laughed.
"Well, put like that, it is kind of funny."
"Keep talking and I'll knock both your teeth out," Lancelot spat.
"Relax, it's just a joke," Gawain said, patting him on the shoulder.

But Lancelot shoved his hand away.
"A joke? You think this is funny?" his voice rose. "The kingdom is in chaos. A man is dead. A creature that shouldn't exist is locked in a cage. And a witch is linked to a dark sorcerer. And you're cracking jokes?"

The room went quiet.
Gawain swallowed. Percival lowered his eyes.

Lancelot drew a deep breath.
"We could be dealing with Merlin himself... and you two are acting like jesters."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber.

Lancelot's voice lowered, but the weight remained.
"Whatever. Doesn't matter if I failed. This is bigger than me."

"You're right," Gawain said, no trace of humor this time.
Percival nodded too, finally serious.

Lancelot turned to the cage.
"Now... about the creature."
"What's the plan?" Gawain asked.

"We wait for the king. He's dealing with the body upstairs. Until then, we guard this thing. No one goes near it."

The others nodded. No arguments this time.

Minutes passed in silence. Only the distant drip of water filled the air. Then—footsteps. A soldier appeared at the chamber's entrance, standing firm.
"Knights, the king has returned. He requests your presence in the throne room."

Lancelot nodded, serious.
"Understood."

He exchanged a glance with the others. Without a word, they followed the soldier back up the stone stairs, leaving behind the unsettling shadow of the creature.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The throne room received them like a silent trial.

Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival marched forward, their boots echoing over the stone like war drums. At the far end, King Sonic sat tall on his throne, spine rigid, eyes sharp. It was clear: exhaustion gnawed at him—and he wasn't in the mood for nonsense.

"Ah, there you are," he said. His voice was calm, but carried such an edge even Gawain stopped smiling.

The three knights bowed in unison, as solemn as statues.

"You summoned us, my lord?" Lancelot asked respectfully, though the tension of the night still burned beneath his skin.

Sonic leaned forward slightly, scanning them as if he could read their thoughts.
"I did. We have grave matters to discuss."

He motioned them closer. Once they stood before the throne, his voice dropped:
"First—the creature. Is it secured in the dungeons?"
"Yes, my lord. Locked away as you ordered," Lancelot replied without hesitation.

Sonic gave a small nod, but the furrow in his brow didn't fade.
"Good. But there's something worse we must address."
He straightened. His voice thickened.
"The dead man... the state of his body..."

A shiver ran through them. No one wanted to revisit that image. But the king didn't pause.

"He was killed near the library. The body—mutilated. But what alarms me isn't just how he died."
He let that sink in, eyes fixed on them.
"His organs were eaten. His muscles torn out. His blood... drained."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Gawain clenched his jaw. Percival turned pale, a hand rising to his mouth. Even Lancelot, always composed, went rigid.

"Savage," the king continued, voice like a blade, "but not random. The alchemists and healers agree: this was a ritual."

Ritual magic.
Not just a murder. A sign. A purpose.

"Ritual?" Gawain echoed quietly.
Sonic nodded.
"This wasn't just violence. This brutality had intent. According to the alchemists, the sorcerer behind this is after something old... and powerful. The creature may have been after it too. It spoke of 'a feast'... and 'a treasure.'"

The echo of those words hit hard.
Lancelot clenched his jaw.
The monster hadn't been lost. It had been hunting.

"If the creature was after that treasure... and the Firebender got in its way..." Percival said, voice unsteady.
"Exactly," the king replied.
"That means this person and the sorcerer aren't on the same side... The women in the town hall said he protected them. Whatever that creature was looking for, the dark sorcerer wants it... and the Firebender has it. Or knows something."

One question hung heavy in the air:

What kind of treasure was worth ripping someone apart?

Sonic turned to Lancelot.
"You faced them. You said you gathered intel before they escaped."

Lancelot squared his shoulders, fighting the storm inside him: anger, doubt... and something else he refused to name.
"Yes, my lord. I gathered some information before she... escaped."
He said she with venom. And something more—frustration.

Sonic raised a brow.
"She...? Go on."
Lancelot exhaled slowly.
"As we've seen, she's skilled, my lord. Fast. Agile. Her fire was powerful. Almost demonic."

The word lingered.
Lancelot hesitated, remembering how she moved. There was strength... but also grace. And it had thrown him off.

"Her abilities are clear," the king allowed. "What else did you see?"
"She didn't attack. Only defended. Tried to intimidate me. I warned her she'd be arrested for forbidden magic, but she didn't run. Didn't back down."
"She didn't attack?"
"No. She stood her ground. Defiant. Unafraid."

His voice cracked, just barely, recalling those amber eyes locked on his. That calm had shaken him.
"I was about to remove her hood... but she vanished."
"And what else?"
Lancelot swallowed.
"She's young. Maybe our age. Twenty-two. And... imposing." He said it like a confession.

Gawain raised his eyebrows. Percival blinked.
Sonic reclined slightly, something amused flickering in his eyes.
"Imposing, is she?"

Lancelot cleared his throat and stood straighter, like he wanted the floor to swallow him.
"I misspoke, my lord."
But the red in his cheeks said otherwise.
"She wore a cloak to hide herself. But her eyes... amber. Sharp. Like they saw right through you."

He paused.

"And her... scent..."

Silence.
Even the king frowned.

"Her scent?" Sonic asked.
"It was unmistakable," he muttered. "Smoke. Burnt wood... and something sweeter. Earthy. Hard to name."

Sonic studied him, thoughtful.
"A unique scent. Unusual power. And she refused to kill. She's not an ordinary fugitive."

Lancelot nodded stiffly. Inside, the pieces refused to fit.
She was powerful, but restrained. Dangerous, but didn't kill.
And those eyes... he still felt them watching.

The silence thickened like the castle walls.

Without realizing, Lancelot lowered his voice.
"Her face... what little I saw... it was soft. And that smile..."

He stopped.

He remembered it too well.
Bold. Confident. Like she was laughing at him without a word. And, to his horror... he hadn't minded.

Gawain and Percival exchanged looks. Gawain was practically choking.

"That smile... so arrogant. So defiant. So..." Lancelot murmured.
The words slipped like silk. Almost reverent.

Time froze.
He blinked.

Too late.

Gawain's mouth hung open. Percival looked at him like he'd spilled state secrets.

"And how exactly do you know she's a woman?" Sonic asked. Innocent voice. Loaded question.
Lancelot hesitated.
"Her height. The way the cloak fit. And... her scent."

Gawain gave him a "do you hear yourself?" look, while Percival clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

Sonic raised a brow, then lowered his gaze, thoughtful.
He said nothing. But his expression made it clear... he'd picked up more than Lancelot had intended.

The knight bowed his head. No matter how hard he tried to stay focused on the mission, her gaze, her fire, her smile... they wouldn't let him go.

She was no longer just another enemy.

Gawain, of course, couldn't help himself.
"Well, well, Lancelot. Looks like she left an impression."
Lancelot glared daggers.
"Watch it, Gawain," he said, ice in his voice. But the tension gave him away.

He turned to the king, voice firm.
"My lord, I failed to capture her. But this isn't over. I swear I'll find her again."

And it wasn't just a vow to the crown.
It was personal.

The king nodded.
"I trust you will. That firebender may have the answers we need. Prepare yourself, Lancelot. Next time you face her... I want results."

Lancelot nodded, sealing the vow inside like a blade.

The air in the chamber grew heavier, near suffocating, as Sonic scanned his knights with a piercing gaze.
"Our top priority is capturing the witch. We need answers. Why she intervened. Where the beast came from. What she knows about the murder. And most importantly... what that 'treasure' really is."

The words landed like a hammer.
Gawain and Percival straightened immediately.
But Lancelot felt them deeper. This wasn't just a mission anymore. It was a reckoning.

The king wasn't just chasing a threat. He was facing a ghost from the past.

"Yes, my lord," Lancelot said, forcing the words to sound steady, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

He needed to focus. But her presence still burned behind his eyes. Her fire. Her voice. That look.
He shoved it down.

"We'll find her. And we'll get the truth," Gawain said with conviction.
"We'll get to the bottom of this, my king," added Percival, unusually serious.

Lancelot said nothing. He couldn't.
Every time he heard her name or thought of her power, a storm twisted inside him. He clenched his jaw.

Sonic stared at him a moment too long, as if trying to see through his armor into the chaos beneath.
"Good," the king said at last. "That witch holds many answers. But be ready. She's no ordinary enemy."

Percival stepped forward, hesitant.
"Majesty... are we certain she's a witch? What if she's something else? A sorceress, maybe?"

Lancelot tensed.

Did it matter?
Witch, sorceress, cloaked demon—she was still a threat.
But he held his tongue.

"A witch," Sonic said, voice hardening. "There's a difference. Witches draw power from demons, spirits, forbidden forces. They use curses, hexes, dark magic. Sorcerers... are born with it. Their power comes from nature."
His tone was measured, but the disdain slipped through the cracks.

"So... witches make deals with demons?" Gawain asked, scratching his head.
"Not exactly," Sonic corrected, voice turning cold.
"They channel them. Use their power at will. It's a corruption. A distortion of natural magic."

Percival, of course, remained curious.
"And sorcerers? Are they less dangerous?"
The king's face darkened.
"Sorcery may be natural, but it's still dangerous. Witchcraft... is poison. And it must be eradicated."

The silence that followed said everything.
Even Gawain swallowed his next joke.

Lancelot didn't move. But in his head, the king's words echoed.
She didn't feel like a witch. Her power was raw, yes. Violent. But he hadn't sensed the malice of dark magic.

Sonic continued, voice sharper now.
"That's why we must capture her. To protect Camelot. Once we have the answers... we'll go after the Dark Sorcerer."

Lancelot straightened further. His resolve locked in like armor.
This wasn't just a mission now.
It was reclamation.

She wouldn't escape again.

The torches flickered, casting restless shadows across the hall. Gawain and Percival exchanged looks. Determination burned in their eyes.

"We'll find her, my king," said Gawain, without a hint of sarcasm.
"And we'll make her talk," added Percival, dead serious.

The king nodded. A flicker of approval passed through his gaze.
But when he looked back to Lancelot, his stare turned sharper. Calculating.

"We will find her," Lancelot said, firm on the outside... But inside, her smile was still there, buried like a thorn he couldn't pull out.

Sonic studied him a second longer. Then spoke.
"Good," he said, like a verdict.

And just like switching blades mid-fight, Gawain broke the silence.
"And the beast, Your Majesty?"
Sonic's face hardened again.
"The alchemist will examine it. Its wings, claws, healing. We need to know everything. How it got into Camelot. Why it targeted the treasure hunter. Why it drained his blood. What it was hunting here."

The knights stayed quiet. The creature's shadow still loomed over them.

"Any clue where it came from?" Percival asked cautiously.
"None," Sonic said through gritted teeth. "Its wings. Its dark fur. The scales on its limbs... They don't belong to any being of this world. It was created. Born from darkness."

Gawain frowned. He remembered the creature's last words.
It spoke of a master... a sorcerer... and—

Merlin.

Sonic confirmed it.
"Its final words were: 'Master... Sorcerer... Lord... Merlin.'
If Merlin is behind this, he's after the Chaos Emerald."

The name dropped like a bomb.

The Chaos Emerald.
Camelot's deepest wound.

The silence was suffocating.
Gawain shifted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Do you think... Merlin is back?"
"Whether he's returned or not, if he sent this creature after the Emerald... we must act. We cannot let him find it."

The knights nodded.
The decision was made.

Sonic rose. The sound of his armor cut through the silence like a knife.
"Follow me."
And without another word, he left the throne room.

The three followed instantly.

As they descended through the cold stone halls of the castle, lit only by flickering torches and flanked by grim-faced guards, one truth weighed heavy on their hearts:

They were headed east—
To the Chamber of the Emerald.

The last one left.