The Jabberwocky descended.

  Its wings beat once, twice, sending gusts of wind that knocked card soldiers off their feet. The Queen stumbled back, her earlier fury replaced by something closer to confusion. This wasn't part of her plan.

  The dragon's burning eyes swept past her without interest. Past the scattered cards. Past the guillotines.

  They settled on Maggie. On Jay. On the humans.

  "It wants us," Maggie said.

  "Stories always want humans." Mark reached into his coat pocket. What he pulled out shouldn't have fit. The blade was massive—six feet of dark metal with a serrated edge that looked designed to tear through anything. Less like a sword and more like something built for cutting down buildings. "I'll handle the dragon. You handle the Queen."

  "Us?" Jay's voice cracked. "Against her? I'm empty, Mark. I've got nothing left."

  "Then improvise." Mark was already moving toward Alice. He reached into his pocket again and produced another weapon—a longsword, elegant where his was brutal. He handed it to her without ceremony.

  Alice took the blade, testing its weight. "Good luck. Try not to die."

  "Same to you."

  Then he launched himself into the sky.

  Maggie had seen Mark move fast before. This was different. Chainsaw-blade raised, he met the Jabberwocky mid-descent. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air. The dragon roared—that horrible language-that-wasn't-language—and snapped at him with jaws that could have swallowed a car.

  Mark dodged. Countered. The chainsaw bit into scales and drew something that might have been blood.

  The battle moved higher, becoming distant thunder and flashes of light against the cracked sky.

  "Well," Alice said, turning toward the Queen. "Shall we?"

  The Queen had recovered from her shock. Her face was twisted with rage—at the interruption, at the loss of her pet, at the indignity of being ignored by a dragon.

  "You think you can challenge me in my own court?" She raised both hands. "I'll show you what happens to those who defy the Queen of Hearts!"

  The guillotines activated.

  Not just one—all four of them. They tore free from the execution platform, metal shrieking against stone. Wood splintered and reformed, stretching into joints that shouldn't exist. Metal bent and fused, becoming sinew. Each guillotine rose on newly-formed legs—twisted, wrong, like a child's drawing of limbs brought to horrible life.

  Four guillotines. Four targets. One for each of them.

  They spread out with mechanical precision, isolating their prey.

  The guillotine lunged at Maggie before she could react. Its blade came down in a vertical slash—she dove sideways, rolled, came up swinging. Her fist connected with the wooden frame and cracked it, but the thing kept moving. Kept attacking.

  She couldn't disengage. Every time she tried to break away, the guillotine cut off her escape route. It was herding her, isolating her from the others.

  "Jay!" she shouted. "Move!"

  Jay was stumbling backward, staff raised uselessly, trying to put distance between himself and his pursuer. But he was exhausted. Drained. His movements were sluggish, his reactions a half-second too slow.

  The guillotine's blade rose.

  "JAY!"

  The blade fell.

  Maggie saw it happen. Saw the metal flash downward, saw Jay's body jerk, saw—

  His head hit the ground before his body did.

  Time stopped.

  Or maybe Maggie stopped. Everything around her became distant, muffled, like she was watching through frosted glass. Jay's body crumpled. His head rolled once, twice, then lay still.

  The guillotine raised its blade again, preparing to finish the job.

  "Shit."

  The word came out quiet. Almost calm.

  "Shit."

  Louder now. Her hands were shaking.

  "SHIT!"

  Something broke inside her. Not grief—not yet. Rage. Pure, incandescent rage that burned away everything else. The guillotine in front of her swung its blade down and she caught it. Actually caught the metal in her bare hands, felt it bite into her palms, and didn't care.

  She ripped the blade free and drove it through the guillotine's frame.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The construct shuddered. Collapsed. Maggie was already moving, sprinting toward Jay's body, toward the guillotine that was raising its blade for another strike—

  Locke got there first.

  The husky hit the guillotine from the side, jaws clamping onto one of its wooden legs. He thrashed, tearing, and the construct stumbled. Its blade came down wild, missing Jay's body by inches.

  Locke ripped the leg free. The guillotine toppled.

  Across the courtyard, Alice had already destroyed hers. The longsword Mark gave her was slick with oil. She was advancing toward the Queen now, blade raised.

  Locke left Jay's body and ran to join her, flanking the Queen from the other side.

  Maggie reached Jay.

  She dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering over his severed head. His eyes were closed. She noticed that. Remembered Mark's instructions from before—close your eyes, focus on your anchor—and felt something like hope flicker in her chest.

  He was trying. Even now, even like this, he was trying to survive.

  "Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I can do this."

  She picked up Jay's head. It was heavier than she expected. Still warm. She positioned it against his neck, pressing the severed edges together as best she could.

  "Jay. Jay, can you hear me?" Her voice cracked. "You're connected. Head and body—they're together now. You need to heal yourself. Focus. Please."

  Nothing happened.

  The flesh didn't knit. The wound didn't close. Jay's body lay there, motionless, head resting against neck like pieces of a broken doll.

  "Come on," she said. "Come on. You can do this. You're the one who wanted to be a hero, right? Heroes don't die like this."

  Still nothing.

  "Jay. Please."

  "EXECUTE THE DOG!"

  The Queen's voice cut through Maggie's panic. She looked up to see card soldiers breaking away from the group facing Alice, repositioning toward Locke. The husky stood his ground, teeth bared, but he was outnumbered.

  Alice carved through two soldiers trying to flank her, but more kept coming.

  "Jay," Maggie whispered, pressing harder on his head. "I need you to wake up now. Please. I can't—"

  Jay gasped.

  His whole body convulsed, back arching, and Maggie felt flesh knitting under her hands. The wound sealed itself—messily, imperfectly, leaving a ragged line around his throat—but it sealed.

  Jay's eyes opened. Found her face.

  "Maggie?" His voice was a rasp. "Did it work?"

  "Yeah." She pulled him into a hug. Tight. Desperate. She could feel him trembling—or maybe that was her. "Yeah, it worked. You're okay."

  "I felt it." His hand went to his throat, fingers tracing the scar. "The cut. And then nothing. Just dark. I held onto my anchor like Mark said. Kept focusing on it even when everything else went away."

  "But you came back."

  "You told me I was connected again. That I could heal." A weak laugh. "Figured I should probably try."

  Despite everything, Maggie laughed too. It came out wet, closer to a sob than humor, but it was still a laugh.

  She pulled back. Looked at him. He was pale, shaking, clearly in shock—but alive. Actually alive.

  "Can you stand?"

  "I... maybe?"

  Before she could respond, footsteps pounded across the courtyard. She spun, fists raised—

  It was the King.

  Charles was out of breath, crown askew, robes tangled around his legs. He looked like he'd run all the way from his study.

  "The Jabberwocky," he gasped. "I heard—what's happening? What—" His eyes fell on Jay's scarred throat. On the blood. On the chaos. "Oh dear."

  "Your wife happened," Maggie said. "Can you stop the cards? Order them to stand down?"

  "I—yes, technically. My authority equals hers. But only if she doesn't countermand me. If she gives another order—"

  "That's good enough." Maggie stood, pulling Jay up with her. "Stay here. Recover. Don't die again."

  "Wasn't planning on it," Jay muttered.

  Maggie ran.

  Alice and Locke were holding their ground, but barely. Card soldiers pressed in from all sides, spears jabbing. Alice's sword flashed, cutting down two, three, four—but more filled the gaps.

  Maggie hit the line like a battering ram. She didn't bother with precision—just force. Punches that shattered wooden frames, kicks that sent cards flying, elbows and knees and headbutts. Anything to break through.

  A spear caught her shoulder. She grabbed the shaft and used it to swing the card soldier into three of his companions.

  Another step. Another. Fighting toward the Queen.

  The Queen saw her coming. Her eyes widened—then narrowed with fury.

  "EXECUTE HER! OFF WITH HER—"

  "IF YOU INTEND TO EXECUTE SOMEONE—" Maggie's voice cut across the courtyard, loud and clear and steady. "—YOU MUST FIRST CONDUCT A FAIR TRIAL."

  The words tried to lock into place. She felt the contract forming—but it pushed back. The Queen's will fighting against hers, trying to reject the rule. Maggie gritted her teeth and held on. Forced the declaration to stick.

  Something drained out of her. Not mana, not energy—something else. Harder to name. She felt the thread snap into existence between them—thicker than the one with the Jack of Hearts, heavier. But the rule held. The Queen's lips formed the words "off with her head" again and again, but no sound emerged. The sentence collapsed before it could form.

  But the cards didn't stop. They were still following the Queen's previous orders, still fighting, still pressing in.

  "Charles!" Maggie shouted. "Now!"

  The King had followed her. He stood at the edge of the melee, looking terrified but determined.

  "By royal decree!" His voice cracked, then steadied. "All card soldiers—stand down! Cease combat immediately! That is an order from your King!"

  The cards hesitated. Looked at each other. Looked at the Queen, who was still trying to form words that wouldn't come.

  Then, one by one, they lowered their weapons.

  "What—" The Queen's voice came back, but only for normal speech. "What did you DO to me? Charles, what is happening? Why are they listening to you?"

  "Because you can't give execution orders anymore." Maggie stepped forward, breathing hard. "And without those, your authority is just... authority. Same as his."

  "This is MY kingdom! MY court! You can't—"

  Thunder cracked overhead.

  Everyone looked up.

  The battle in the sky had reached its climax. The Jabberwocky twisted and writhed, one wing hanging limp, scales torn and bleeding. Mark clung to its back, chainsaw-blade buried deep in the joint where wing met body.

  The dragon screamed—that horrible non-language tearing at reality itself—and tried to throw him off. Mark held on. Twisted the blade. The wing tore free.

  The Jabberwocky plummeted.

  But instead of crashing, it caught itself at the last moment, remaining wing beating furiously. Mark was on it in an instant, blade carving a deep gash across its throat. Black blood sprayed. The dragon shrieked, clawing at him, catching his shoulder with talons that drew red.

  Mark drove the blade deeper. The Jabberwocky's movements became frantic, desperate. It turned toward the rift in the sky—the wound it had torn to enter Wonderland.

  Mark let it go.

  He stepped off the creature's back, falling through empty air as the dragon hauled itself toward the portal. It was bleeding from a dozen wounds now, one wing gone, throat half-open. It would survive. Probably. But it wouldn't be hunting humans again anytime soon.

  And Mark had no reason to kill a story. Not when running was enough.

  The Jabberwocky vanished into whatever darkness lay beyond. The crack in the sky began to close behind it, edges knitting together like healing flesh.

  Mark fell.

  He landed in the courtyard with a heavy thud, rolling twice before coming to a stop. For a long moment, he didn't move.

  Then he pushed himself up on one arm.

  He was covered in blood—most of it black and viscous, clearly the dragon's. His coat was shredded. One lens of his glasses was cracked. But he was grinning.

  "Well," he said. "That was fun."