The auditorium was a mess of shadows and screams as the severed hand landed with a wet *plop* on a guest's plate, right in the middle of their half-eaten meal.
The woman at the table panicked, shoving her chair back so hard it toppled over, while the guy next to her jumped up, yelling, "What the hell?!"
The whole room erupted—people scrambling, tripping over each other, their phone flashlights swinging wildly in the dark. Plates crashed to the floor, glass shattered, and the air filled with panicked cries, sharp and raw.
Up on the first floor, the second knight stumbled back against the railing, his eyes locked on my silhouette in the flickering light of his buddy's dropped flashlight.
His hand shook as he yanked his sword free, the blade glinting faintly. "Who are you?!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear and fury.