My name drifts through the darkness like smoke, soft and insistent, pulling me up from the bottom of a dream I can’t remember.
“Christopher.”
I open my eyes. Stone walls. A single barred window high up on the wall, pale morning light cutting a thin rectangle across the floor. I’m in a bed. A real bed, not the floor, which is... weirdly considerate for a cell. The mattress is thin but clean, the blanket rough against my skin.
Morgana sits at the foot of the bed. Her purple eyes find mine.
“Good morning, Christopher.”
I blink. Slow. My head is full of cotton and broken glass, and every time I try to think about last night, my brain just... shuts the door. I swallow hard, my throat raw, my tongue thick and sour.
“Morgana.” My voice comes out like gravel. “I have to talk to Brooke. Please.”
Her smile falters. She looks down at her hands, her fingers laced together in her lap, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet.
“I’m sorry, Christopher. She... she’s not ready right now. And you and I have to get out of this castle as soon as possible.”
I feel my eyes sting, hot and sudden, and I have to look away from her. The tears come without my permission, sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw. I wipe at them with the back of my hand, but more just take their place.
“Please, Morgana.” My voice cracks on her name, and I hate how pathetic I sound. “I was tricked. Luna did something to me. I don’t... I don’t even remember most of it. One minute I was drinking with the soldiers, and then...” I trail off, my throat closing around the words. “She did something. I know she did.”
Morgana’s hand finds mine. Her fingers are cool and steady, wrapping around my trembling ones with a gentleness that makes me want to sob harder.
“I believe you, Christopher.”
The tears keep falling, but something in my chest loosens, just a little. “You... you do?”
“Of course I do.” She squeezes my hand, her purple eyes holding mine with an intensity that feels like a lifeline. “But everyone else...” She pauses, and her gaze drops to my chest. Her free hand reaches out, her fingertips brushing against the skin just below my right collarbone.
I look down.
The mark. A black A, burned into my flesh like a brand. It’s not raised, not a scar, just... there. Permanent. Inescapable. The goddesses’ judgment etched into my skin for everyone to see.
My stomach lurches.
“Listen,” Morgana says, her voice dropping to something low and urgent. “There are a lot of people who want you dead, Christopher. The Cardinal. Half the court. Matilda isn’t exactly on your side either.”
I stare at the mark. It looks like it’s been there my whole life.
“I’ve chartered us passage on a cargo airship,” Morgana continues, her thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand. “To the Kingdom of Everdale. We’re leaving in an hour.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Heartbreak first, a deep, aching hollow that spreads through my chest and makes it hard to breathe. Brooke. I’ll never see Brooke again. She’ll be here, training, becoming the hero she was meant to be, and I’ll be... gone. Shipped off like damaged goods.
Then the anger comes. Fast and white-hot, burning through the grief like a match tossed into dry grass.
“Wait, wait.” I sit up straighter. “I was raped, Morgana. I was raped, and they’re just... throwing me away? I’m supposed to be a hero… and they’re what taking that away from me? Shipping me off to some other kingdom like I’m garbage?”
Morgana’s face falls. She reaches for my hand again, but I pull it back, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.
“I’m sorry, Christopher.” Her voice is quiet, careful. “They’re not throwing you away. You’re still a hero. We’re just going to be training on the field now. Away from... all of this.”
I point at her. My finger is shaking.
“You know what? You know what, Morgana?” My voice comes out louder than I mean it to, cracking and raw. “I was happy. In my world. Brooke and I were in love. We had a life. It wasn’t perfect, okay? We both had a ton of weird baggage. But we were making progress. We were building something together. And then you…“ I jab my finger at her chest, “you fucking ripped us out of that. Against our will. No warning, no choice, just… poof. Gone. And you just made us become heroes. Like it’s some kind of gift. Like we should be grateful.”
I’m standing now. I don’t remember standing. The blanket falls off my shoulders and pools around my ankles, and I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering.
“You ruined my fucking life!” The words tear out of me like something with claws, ragged and ugly and true. “You ruined my entire fucking life, Morgana!”
Morgana stands. Her purple eyes go wide, and something in them breaks, like a window cracking from the inside. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t argue. She just closes the distance between us in two quick steps and wraps her arms around me.
“I’m sorry, Christopher.” Her voice is right against my ear, and it’s... it’s not the smooth, controlled voice I’m used to. It’s cracked open. Raw. There’s a tremor in it that I’ve never heard before, and it makes something in my chest twist. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know what to do. My arms are still at my sides, my fists still clenched, my whole body shaking with this rage that has nowhere to go. But she’s warm. And she’s holding me like she actually means it, like she actually cares, and I’m so goddamn tired of being strong and reasonable and understanding all time in this stupid fantasy world. I’m so goddamn tired of pretending this is all normal and fun.
So I hug her back. My arms come up around her waist, and I bury my face in the crook of her neck, and I cry. Really cry. The ugly kind, where your face scrunches up and snot runs down your chin and you make these horrible wet sounds that you’d be mortified about if anyone else could hear.
Her hand finds the back of my head, her fingers sliding into my hair, and she holds me there. She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Just lets me fall apart against her, her thumb tracing slow circles against my scalp while I soak the collar of her dark robes with tears.
“It’s okay to be mad,” she whispers. Her voice is still that broken-open thing. “You have every right to be furious.”
I pull back just enough to look at her, my vision swimming, my nose running. “I’m being fucking Shield Hero’d,” I choke out, the words coming out wet and mangled. “It’s the same bullshit! The whole... the whole setup! The false accusation, everyone turning against me... it’s exactly like that stupid fucking anime!”
Morgana blinks. Her head tilts, and for a second, the sadness in her eyes gets pushed aside by genuine confusion. “What?”
“Ughhhh...” I drop my forehead against her shoulder, a fresh wave of tears rolling down my face. “It’s... it’s a show from my world. About a guy who gets isekai’d and then accused of something he didn’t do, and everyone hates him, and he gets a shield and has to... it doesn’t matter. It’s just... the same thing is happening to me. Except this one is stupider!”
“Fuck!” I yell, my voice bouncing off the stone walls of the cell. “Brooke never saw that one! Fuck! Fuck!”
I pace back and forth, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor.
“I need to talk to Brooke,” I say, turning to face Morgana. “She needs to understand this is clearly a betrayal anime we’re living in. Please, please. If I could just explain…“
Morgana’s expression softens, but she shakes her head. “It’s not up to me, Christopher.”
“Fuck...” I sink back onto the bed, my shoulders slumping. The fight drains out of me all at once, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in my chest. I stare down at my hands, at the black mark burned into my skin. “What if I don’t want to be a hero anymore?”
Morgana moves closer. She kneels down in front of me, bringing herself to my eye level. Her purple eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them, something genuine and warm that makes my throat tighten.
“Then I’ll help you figure it out, okay?” she says, her voice gentle but firm.
I sigh, running a hand through my disheveled hair. Despite my anger at the summoning, despite everything that’s happened... Morgana is a good person. She’s always done right by me, always been there and offered me help. I trust her. Even now, when everything feels like it’s falling apart, she’s here, offering to help me pick up the pieces.
“Okay.”