“Anders, look!” she said, drawing his attention to the enemy on the hill.

Anders turned, his eyes going hard as he spotted the Masked Emperor. “This is our chance,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to the horse. He hopped on and pulled her up behind him.

They raced toward the place where their enemy waited, and once again she felt nothing but exhilaration for this hunt—one of her favorite moments in the game, the moment where Zariel really embraces who she is and wins Anders over.

Once they reached the Emperor’s location, Anders screamed out a battle cry. “Azrael!”

At the sound of his name, the Emperor charged toward them on his horse, knocking them both off the stallion.

Skylar’s body exploded in pain as she hit the ground, tumbling down the hill. She came to a painful halt, wincing as she tried to pull herself back up. It’s cool. It’s all good. Just part of living through the game. Even if it is a dream.

“Get off your horse and fight me!” Anders shouted. “Man to man.”

It took a monumental effort not to swoon as she watched the Emperor and Anders face off…and it was even harder not to jump in when they began exchanging blows. She had to wait for just the right moment. And…there it was.

From his horse, the Emperor had the advantage, and he managed to stab Anders in the shoulder. Skylar leapt into the fray, pulling out Anders’s bow and arrows from his stallion’s saddle.

This was it: the moment when she would save Anders. Never mind that she wasn’t totally sure about her ability to shoot straight. Besides, the game had yet to deviate from what she knew. Everything was going according to her previous experiences of playing it, so why should this crucial moment be any different? I’ll definitely be successful with this shot.

This was the moment she would save her man and prove to him that she was worth falling in love with. Pulling back the bowstring, she aimed carefully and released the arrow, sending it flying toward the Emperor.

It should have been a triumphant moment—except the arrow didn’t go where it was supposed to, into the Emperor. Instead, it fell far short of him, ricocheting pathetically against the ground.

She stared, held immobile in utter shock and disbelief. This…wasn’t what was supposed to happen. It always hit him in the game.

What the heck?!

“Leave me and run,” Anders murmured weakly, but Skylar couldn’t even form a response.

What the hell had just happened? She never missed that hit—never. Not since she first began playing the game.

She had no time to contemplate any of it before the Emperor was surging toward her on his horse, and then the bow was slipping from her grasp and clattering to the ground as a strong hand grasped the back of her shirt and pulled her onto the galloping horse.

A wave of vertigo hit her as she saw the world upside down from the front of the saddle. “Anders!” she cried, feeling sick and terrified. “Anders!”

It was useless, though. They were moving too quickly.

“Stop,” she shouted, struggling, trying to fight against Azrael. None of this was supposed to be happening. It was all completely wrong. She was supposed to hit the villain and bring Anders to safety. And— Oh no, what if Anders didn’t get the help he needed before it was too late?

In a panic, she struck out at the Emperor’s leg, her fist barely making contact before the world went black.

***

Skylar was drifting—no, falling. Falling forever with no end in sight. Her mind swam in and out of consciousness as she tried to process the horrifying series of events that had led her there.

The world, the game, came to her in glimpses: the fur of the horse, the rough leather of the Emperor’s elegant saddle, the uneven motion of the horse as they rode, the stiff grip that Azrael had on her body so she wouldn’t fall off. She hurt all over, from the battle, from this. Internally, she was screaming and crying… Seriously, why the hell was this happening?!

No, that’s not helping, she told herself. Get the fuck up. You need to find a way out of this.

Only, she was having a hell of a time keeping her eyes open. The continual motion of the horse was threatening to throw her into a nauseous state. It was hard to breathe, much less think.

But…this was all a dream, right? It had felt so real…so maybe this was the end of it.

Except every time she opened her eyes, her vision was blurred. Every burst of consciousness was just a flash, a little dimmer each time. She became aware in one instance that she was now being held up, and oddly enough, she felt secure enough that she wouldn’t fall off.

What’s happening? Why…why is this happening?

She realized then that the Emperor had a strong arm wrapped securely around her, and she looked down as she began to nod off again, noticing his hands, his leather cuffs, and the obsidian ring with the image of the Emperor’s mask that he wore on one finger.

Even in her hazy state of mind, she couldn’t help but think that it was a strangely beautiful ring. But also very…dark, somehow. As if there was an odd aura radiating from it.

Pushing the thought aside, she tried, dazedly, to orient herself and attempt to figure out where they might be going, but in her current state it was impossible to know. She’d long since lost all sense of time and place.

Giving up, she closed her eyes again.

***

When she woke up again, she was in the dark. And she realized in that instant that she had never been in the complete and utter dark before. There was always some sliver of light peeking through a window or door.

It frightened her, to be without a hint of light, to be unable to see or know what was going on.

She strained to hear something, but it was quiet—no footsteps, no sound of a house creaking in the night. But if I’m with Azrael…

It occurred to her then that she must be in the palace. It was a place she’d only seen from a distance in the game. The thought inspired immediate panic, and her next breath came up short.

This…this was a whole new world. Something out of her control.

Forcing herself to maintain a semblance of calm, she felt around her, noting the soft surface. It seemed to be a bed of some sort, and by the texture against her fingertips, it was a very nice bed with soft pillows and a firm but comfortable mattress.

Tentatively, she climbed off the bed and attempted to move around, but almost immediately she felt a huge weight on her ankle. Feeling around her leg, she realized with a terrified start that it was a heavy collar and chain.

So I can move around—a little—but I can’t escape. Of course.

The panic returned, and she tugged on it uselessly, which only made the chain clack against the ground.

Almost as soon as it happened, the door was opening, and a deep voice drifted toward her. “Welcome to my home.”

A candle flickered to life, and the man holding it strode in, still dressed in the battle gear, a dark cloak around his shoulders, and that awful mask on his face, like something out of a Venice Carnival, a grotesque, exaggerated face of anger and misery.

For the first time in the game, Skylar had no idea what to do next. This was completely uncharted territory, with no dialogue to fall back on, no predetermined story to follow… She had no idea what to do, what to say.

Let him set the tone…and then I’ll try to figure out my next move.

She stiffened as he walked around her, his gait almost stalking. Past the slits of the mask, she felt his gaze on her, and she knew he was waiting for her to say something.

Well, she wasn’t about to do that. Not when it could completely ruin whatever chance she had left of getting out of this.

He finally stopped, still studying her. “I wonder why the Oracle has nothing to say. It seems you had plenty to say to Anders, the false prince.”

His voice broke her resolve. “Please, let me go,” she said, feeling her real self coming through Zariel’s lips. “I have no power here. I just want to wake up.”

He titled his head. “Do you think to trick me with this petty act of weakness? I know who you are, Oracle. You will have to do better than that.”

The words pricked a nerve, and her walls came up. “You don’t know me. You’re just a coward hiding behind a hideous mask. Is it to hide your hideous face?”

To her complete and utter shock, he reached up and tore the mask off, and she instinctively backed away, frightened at the prospect of what she might see. She’d never actually seen the face of the villain because no one was supposed to see him…ever. There was no face built into the game. He only ever wore that horrid mask. For a moment she wondered if all she’d see was a blank void buried in the hood of his cloak.

But…no.

Her heart stuttered as Azrael stepped closer, holding the candle up so she could clearly see his face…and as she took in the features the mask had hidden away, she could not stop the gasp that tore itself from her lips.

Because the face before her was far from hideous. No…it was beautiful, devastatingly so, perhaps the most beautiful face of any man she’d ever seen.