Sir Virginblade

And there she was.

Rita.

He recognized her instantly. Shoulder-length black curls. Warm caramel skin. Eyes that gleamed with mischief. She was a common girl, just like them, but she always dressed a bit sharper, moved a little slower—like she knew she was attractive.

She had been trying to get Zac's attention for months now.

He remembered the time she dropped her book right in front of him—twice. Or how she always "accidentally" stood next to him in the school courtyard. The long glances. The smirks. The twirl of her fingers when she pushed hair behind her ears.

Zac had never given her much thought.

Not because she wasn't beautiful.

But because he didn't have time.

There was always something else to do. Another errand. Another patrol. Another night in the shadows.

But now?

Now he was trapped.

And Rita wasn't hiding her intentions.

She leaned against the wall like a cat, one foot propped behind her, arms folded under her chest just enough to draw attention. Her dress was simple, but the way she wore it made it look like the finest silk.

"Hey, Zac," she said, voice smooth, playful. "Fancy seeing you here."

Zac gave a tired smile. "Let me guess… coincidence?"

She stepped forward slowly. "I asked them to bring you here. Figured you'd never notice me otherwise."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I… notice you."

"Oh really?"

She took another step, closer now. His back was almost against the wooden shed. No clear exit. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. But he also didn't want to be here.

Especially not alone.

"Rita, I—"

"You're always so… distracted," she interrupted. "You walk like you're carrying something heavier than a bag. And I thought, maybe I could help lighten it."

Her fingers brushed the collar of his tunic.

Zac stiffened.

She was very close now. Close enough that he could smell the floral scent of her skin. Her eyes didn't blink. Her lips parted slightly.

And then—

Her hands drifted lower.

Zac's brain screamed.

Abort.

This wasn't just flirting.

She was going for his belt.

"Rita—" he began, but she leaned in, her breath brushing his ear.

"You're handsome, you know that?" she whispered.

It was official.

Even Nightshade would have trembled in this situation.

Zac's hands moved fast. Not rough. Not violent. Just gone.

He ducked—slipped sideways, past her arm, his foot gliding behind hers like a dancer's step. Before she could blink, he was gone.

She turned, shocked.

"Zac?"

But the alley was empty, Zac was running home to his dear mommy. Would Zac always be a coward in such confrontation. It was inevitable considering his looks.

Only a whisper of wind remained.

By the time Zac reached home, he was out of breath—not from running, but from panic.

His mother looked up from the small fire in the corner, startled.

"You're back early," she said. "Did something happen?"

He didn't answer right away. Just walked up, threw his arms around her, and buried his face in her shoulder like a boy five years younger.

"Oh," she said, surprised but amused. "What's this about?"

"I missed you," he mumbled.

She laughed softly and stroked his hair. "You're not in trouble, are you?"

"Not the kind you're thinking of."

"Did you fight again?"

"No. Worse."

"Worse?" She leaned back. "Zac, what did you do?"

He looked her dead in the eyes, voice low and grim.

"I was almost seduced."

She blinked.

Then burst out laughing.

His mother had been laughing for nearly a minute now—bending over, tears in her eyes, gripping her apron like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.

Zac stood there, arms crossed, trying his best to scowl.

"I'm serious," he said. "It was traumatic."

"Oh, sweetheart," she gasped between giggles. "Almost seduced by Rita? Rita? The girl who writes her name in hearts on the well wall?"

"She ambushed me."

"With kisses or questions?"

Zac pointed a firm finger. "With fingers near my pants!"

That only made her laugh harder.

She wiped her eyes. "Poor thing. Did you escape with your dignity?"

"Barely."

She leaned against the counter, shaking her head. "You're going to be roasted at school tomorrow."

"I know."

"They'll give you a nickname."

"I know...."

Zac slumped into a chair and stared at the wooden ceiling. "Mark's going to say I ran from 'true love.' Chris will call me Sir Virginblade or something stupid. And Peter's going to write it in chalk on the teacher's desk."

His mom chuckled softly, setting a bowl of stew in front of him. "Then you'll just have to beat them at magic class again."

"I'm not worried about school," Zac mumbled. "I'm worried about Rita. She'll try again. Maybe with backup."

"She'll probably bring music next time."

"I need a disguise."

"You already wear one. The pretty boy suit."

Zac narrowed his eyes. "…You're enjoying this too much."

"I haven't laughed like this since your father got caught stealing my hair comb and blamed it on a squirrel."

Zac smiled despite himself.

That night, the house felt warm. The world, for once, wasn't so heavy.

His mother went to bed, but zac stared at his ceiling,

He even considered letting himself relax.

And then—

BOOM.

A low, thunderous crack rolled across the land.

Zac paused,

Another BOOM, closer this time, but somehow still far off in the distance.

"What in the—"

A third boom rattled the windows. Outside, a dog began barking wildly. Birds scattered. The night air trembled.

Zac stood slowly and walked to the door he had to leave now if he was going to help. His mom couldn't know he left right after hearing the sound. It needed to look as if he had already left when the noise began.

He opened the window—and blinked.

Because of the placement of their house. Once owned by a knight, he could see far off in the distance, illuminated by the full moon, something huge was tearing through the forest.