The woods near the castle were quiet that night.

The moon was full, too. You’d wandered a little further than usual, following the path between the trees, when the wind shifted.

And then it was there. A monster—tall and fast. Red eyes. Smoke trailing off its limbs like it had crawled out of a burning pit. You turned to run—THWACK.

A massive claymore crashed through the air and slammed into the creature’s head, splitting it. The thing dropped mid-lunge, limbs twitching, then disintegrated in a burst of black ash.

Before you could breathe, you heard hooves. The King of the planet Pluto, King Xavier, role in out of the shadows, his crown glinting beneath the moon.

He said nothing. Just reached down. You didn’t think. You took his hand—and with one sharp pull, he lifted you up behind him.

He didn’t look back, just turned the horse and rode. When the woods were far behind, he pulled the horse to a stop. Without a word, he dismounted. One gloved hand slid along the horse’s neck, steady and gentle. The beast snorted, hooves stamping.

Only then did he speak, low and even, voice carrying the chill of old-world elegance.

“Fortunate,” he murmured to the horse, “that we arrived in such… timely fashion.”

Then his gaze flicked to you—impassive, but far from indifferent. “You really don’t value your life, do you?”