Charmaine awoke to the sound of distant thunder and the faint smell of damp stone. She groaned, her head pounding and her body heavy with fatigue. Blinking, she took in her surroundings: a cold, gray room with high, unadorned walls, a single window with iron bars, and a heavy wooden door bolted shut.
Panic bubbled in her chest as she staggered to her feet. She tried the door, shaking the handle and pounding on it, but it didn't budge. Moving to the window, she gripped the bars and peered out. Instead of the royal gardens or the bustling town near the castle, she saw a barren landscape of jagged rocks and blackened earth. Smoke curled from distant volcanoes, and the sky was an ominous red.
"This isn't the palace," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her stomach growled, the hunger from her days of wandering the forest catching up to her. She leaned against the window, her fevered body trembling with exhaustion. Rain still clung to her clothes, and her head swam. She didn't know where she was or how she'd gotten here, but one thing was certain—she was alone.
Desperation pushed her to try her powers. Closing her eyes, she focused on the soil just outside the window. Her hands glowed faintly, and with a rustling sound, vines sprouted and climbed the stone walls. Leaves unfurled, and small green cucumbers began to form.
A weak smile crossed her lips. "At least I won't starve."
She plucked the cucumbers as they reached the window, eating them ravenously. The cool, fresh taste was a small comfort in the overwhelming strangeness of her situation.
***
In the heart of the dark fortress, Rexus, the Dark Lord, paced his chambers. Reports from his minions had been baffling: the hero had been found wandering the forest, soaked and feverish, far from the castle that had summoned her. She had been brought to him as a curiosity, though his spies claimed she was useless—a healer and gardener rather than a warrior or mage.
He had left her alone for hours, curious to see if this so-called hero would attempt to escape or lash out. Instead, a peculiar vine had crept through her window, drawing his attention. The absurdity of it was enough to make him investigate.
Rexus entered the room quietly, his dark cloak brushing the ground. Charmaine lay on the floor near the window, her chest rising and falling shallowly. The remnants of cucumbers littered the ground beside her.
He crouched beside her, studying her face. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, and her brow glistened with sweat. This was the mighty hero summoned to stop him? She didn't look dangerous. She looked... human.
"Wake up," he said, his voice deep and commanding.
Charmaine stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked at him, her gaze unfocused.
"Richard?" She murmured, her voice slurred. "I... I don't want to be where I'm unwanted."
Rexus frowned. "I am not Richard."
She groaned, weakly lifting a hand to push him away. "Leave me alone. I'm not… I'm not what you want. I'm not. I'm not. Is healing what you want? Fine. Here!"
Her hand slapped against his face, right over the long-healed scar from a battle years ago. Rexus stiffened as a golden light spread from her palm, sinking into his skin. He felt warmth, unlike anything he'd known—a soothing, cleansing sensation that erased every lingering ache and stiffness in his body.
He stared at her, wide-eyed. "What are you—"
Before he could finish, Charmaine's eyes rolled back, and she slumped into unconsciousness.
Rexus pulled back, pressing a hand to his face where her touch had been. The scar was gone. His skin was smooth. Not even the most skilled of his healers had been able to mend it completely, yet this woman had done it with a single touch.
The Dark Lord stood, his mind racing. This woman, this hero, was far more dangerous than she seemed. Not because of her healing powers, but because of what she had just done.
He was curious. She wanted nothing to do with the kingdom that summoned her?
Knowing what a prick Richard could be, he believed her. Richard and his court were always concerned with appearance. This hero was definitely not what Richard would deem what a hero would look like.
A slow smile spread across his face as a plan began to form.