A tense silence filled the Inner Chamber when a hole abruptly opened in the stone wall, shimmering like liquid glass.
Everyone instinctively tensed, bracing for whatever might emerge—until they saw the Eaglet stumble through.
A collective sigh of relief followed as the hole lingered for a few moments, its glowing edges gradually shrinking until it finally vanished without a trace.
The Lory was the first to rush forward. "You're back! And you're safe!"
The Eaglet, still catching his breath, nodded. "Thanks to the White Rabbit and the others."
That immediately caught the Walrus's attention. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer. "The White Rabbit? They're here? Where are they?"
"They're in the treasury, looking for the Entrance of Hours," the Eaglet explained.
The Walrus frowned. "And what do they need the Entrance of Hours for?"
Before the Eaglet could respond, a sharp voice cut through the chamber.
"No time for that."
The Queen of Hearts strode forward with cold authority, her sharp gaze locked onto the Eaglet's talons. In a swift motion, she snatched the Royal Sigil from his grasp.
"I'll be taking that."
The Queen of Hearts turned sharply, her gaze locking onto her General, who was still studying the faint, ancient writings on the wall with the Talking Rose.
"Well? What now?" she demanded, impatience dripping from her voice.
The General, fingers tracing the delicate carvings, exhaled. "Based on these inscriptions… The Royal Sigil must be anointed with the blood of a true ruler."
Without hesitation, the Queen of Hearts drew her sword. In one swift, deliberate motion, she slid her forefinger along the blade's edge. A thin line of crimson welled up, and she raised her hand over the sigil, allowing a single drop of her royal blood to fall.
The moment the blood touched the sigil, the entire chamber trembled.
A deep rumbling echoed through the walls as the sigil pulsed with light, the once dull engravings now glowing with an eerie, golden radiance. The stone beneath them shifted, mechanical groans reverberating as if the castle itself was awakening from slumber.
Then, with a deafening crack, the floor at the chamber's center split apart. The stonework unfurled like the pages of an ancient tome, revealing a spiraling staircase descending into an abyss of swirling, luminous mist.
The Queen of Hearts wasted no time. As the ancient mechanism settled into place, revealing the spiraling descent, she immediately strode forward, her crimson cape billowing behind her.
"Come! We waste no time!" she commanded, stepping toward the newly revealed passage.
But before she could descend further, the General quickly moved to intercept her. "Your Majesty, wait!" he called, stepping in her path. "We don't know what lies ahead. We should send others first—scouts, soldiers. You mustn't rush blindly into—"
The Queen of Hearts scoffed, her sharp gaze locking onto him. "You dare suggest I cower behind my subjects?" she said, voice laced with defiance. "I am not some fragile thing to be shielded. My kingdom is in ruins, my people scattered, and I will not stand idly by while others fight my battles." She stepped forward again, her expression resolute. "I will save those who remain. Or I will die trying."
The chamber fell silent.
Even the General, always loyal, was momentarily at a loss for words. The others—her soldiers, her subjects, even the Talking Rose—looked on, taken aback by the rare and unexpected display of selflessness.
Then, a soft chuckle broke the tension.
The White Queen—calm, ever composed—stepped forward, her white robes trailing gracefully across the stone floor. She smiled as she came to stride beside her sister.
"Then let us go together, dear sister," she said, her voice like silk. Then she turned to the others, raising her hand. "All of you, with us. We face the unknown together."
At her words, the hesitation in the air faded. The soldiers and subjects straightened their backs, stepping forward with renewed purpose.
And so, the two Queens, side by side—one in crimson, one in white—led their people into the depths of the Secret Passage.
Back inside the Castle of Hearts, the Throne Room was eerily silent, save for the occasional flicker of torches casting dancing shadows across the cold stone walls. Seated upon his iron-wrought throne, Gorlois brooded, his armored fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest.
Then—a flourish of color, a rustle of movement, a sudden presence.
With an exaggerated bow and a sweeping gesture of his striped sleeves, the Jester materialized before the tyrant, as if he had always been there, simply waiting for the right moment to reveal himself.
"Ahhh, my dear, dreadfully dreary Lord Gorlois!" the Jester sang, his voice dripping with mockery, amusement, and just the right amount of insolence. "I have the answer you've been looking for…"
Gorlois' simply narrowed his gaze. "Speak."
"The Heart of Underland..." He paused dramatically, letting the words settle. "…lies in the Well of Wonders."
A heavy silence followed.
Gorlois' fingers stilled. His eyes, sharp as daggers, locked onto the Jester with newfound intensity.
"The Well of Wonders." His voice was low, dangerous.
"Oh yes," the Jester nodded theatrically, balancing on the tips of his toes. "I believe near our old fortress in the Frozen North."
Gorlois' eyes darkened as he muttered, "I know where it is."
Yet, even as he spoke, his gaze drifted, his thoughts carried far beyond the cold walls of his throne room. It was as if he were staring not at the Jester, but at something only he could see—a vision, a memory, or perhaps, the weight of a grander scheme unfolding in his mind.
A brief silence stretched before he finally spoke again. "Only… it isn't that easy to open."
The Jester tapped his chin, feigning deep thought. Then, with a flicker of mischief in his eyes, he asked, "Just out of curiosity… is my dear lord truly fine with the citizens of Underland simply running free?"
Gorlois let out a scoff, snapping from his trance. "The whole land is practically already mine. No matter where they go, they'll be under my control." His voice carried the certainty of a man who believed himself untouchable.
The Jester tilted his head, amusement flickering across his features. "Aren't we going to kill its current leaders at least?"
Gorlois let out a slow, cold chuckle. "No. Not yet. Let them keep their lives… for now." He stepped forward, the weight of his power pressing into the room. "Once I complete all the powerful treasures of Underland and assert my full authority… we'll show them who the true ruler of this land is."
He lifted a hand, fingers curling as if grasping something invisible—something inevitable. "For now, let's focus on acquiring those treasures. I already have Excalibur. Next, we take the Heart of Underland. Then, the Chronosphere… and every last relic that grants power over this world."
His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "And once I have them all… we won't have to think about what to do with those filthy subjects of mine. They will naturally cower in fear."
The Jester let out a dramatic sigh, twirling his cane as he spoke. "I do believe some of them are also looking for these treasures." His grin widened, eyes glinting with intrigue. "Quite the bold endeavor, wouldn't you say?"
Gorlois threw his head back and laughed—a deep, menacing sound that echoed through the throne room. "Yeah, I know." His voice dripped with amusement as he leaned forward on his throne, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. "But right now, they're practically scattered. Even if some of them do manage to get their hands on those treasures, what of it?"
He smirked, dark confidence radiating from him. "We can simply snatch them away. As long as we keep them separated, they pose no real threat to us."
His eyes gleamed with wicked satisfaction as he added, "And I already have Dullahan making sure of that."
The Jester clapped his hands together, bowing with exaggerated flair. "Ah, but of course! Such brilliance, such foresight! Truly, your wisdom knows no bounds, my lord."
He straightened up, tapping his cane against his shoulder as he grinned. "Others may scramble like ants, thinking they stand a chance, but you—you let them run, let them believe they have hope, only to crush them when the time is right."
The Jester chuckled, eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's almost poetic, really."
Gorlois scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Enough of your flattery, Jester. I don't need a fool singing my praises—I need results."
His crimson eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. "Find out how to open the Well of Wonders." He turned slightly, his voice carrying an air of finality. "And don't keep it to yourself. Inform the others. I want every piece of this puzzle uncovered—immediately."
The Jester grinned, twirling his dagger before lowering himself into an exaggerated bow. "But of course, Your Majesty. Your word is my command."
With a theatrical flourish, he straightened. "I shall uncover the secrets of the Well of Wonders and share the knowledge accordingly. Consider it done."
Then, with an effortless twirl, he vanished into the shadows, his laughter echoing through the throne room—lighthearted, yet carrying an eerie undertone.
Back in the secret passage, the hurried footsteps of the Queen of Hearts' and White Queen's subjects echoed through the dimly lit tunnel. The air was damp, carrying the scent of ancient stone and earth. Their only guide was the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns, barely illuminating their way.
Then, suddenly, the passage split into five separate tunnels. The group skidded to a halt, their breath heavy from the relentless pace.
The Queen of Hearts scoffed, frustration lacing her voice. "Now what?" She tapped her fingers impatiently against the hilt of her sword, her eyes flicking between the darkened paths.
The Talking Rose stepped forward. "Give me a moment." Without waiting for a response, she lowered herself slightly, her roots slipping through the cracks of the stone floor. Silence fell over the group as she focused, sensing the underground currents that pulsed beneath them.
Minutes passed. The only sounds were the distant dripping of water and the shuffling of restless feet. Then, the Talking Rose's petals twitched.
"It's that way." She lifted a leaf, pointing toward the rightmost tunnel.
Without hesitation, the Queen of Hearts strode forward. "Then what are we waiting for? Move!"
The White Queen followed close behind, and the rest of the group hurried after them, vanishing into the depths of the chosen path.
As they rushed down the tunnel, the air grew colder, thick with an eerie stillness. The flickering lanterns cast long, shifting shadows along the ancient stone walls. The passage was narrow, forcing them into a single-file march, with the Queen of Hearts at the lead, her sword drawn and ready.
The White Queen, moving just behind her sister, remained composed, her keen eyes scanning for any sign of danger. Behind them, the General, the Walrus, the Eaglet, and the rest of the Underland survivors followed closely, their breaths shallow with anticipation.
"I don't like this," muttered the Lory, glancing around. "It's too quiet."
"You're always whining," the Queen of Hearts snapped. "Silence yourself and keep up."
The passage began to widen, revealing faded murals on the walls—depictions of Underland's past, long before Gorlois' reign of terror. The images showed an ancient kingdom, noble rulers, and strange, swirling symbols that seemed almost alive under the dim light.
The Talking Rose, who had been leading them with her roots still partially embedded in the ground, suddenly tensed. "Something's wrong."
The General immediately raised a hand, signaling the group to halt. "What do you sense?"
The Rose hesitated, then turned toward the Queen of Hearts. "There's something ahead. A presence… waiting."
The Queen of Hearts grinned. "Good. Then we're getting close." Without an ounce of hesitation, she stepped forward.
The White Queen gently placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Caution, sister. Rushing in blindly is unwise."
The Queen of Hearts shrugged off the warning. "Unwise is standing here and wasting time."
Then, just as she took another step, the ground trembled. A deep, guttural sound echoed through the chamber ahead.
The tremor grew stronger, sending loose dust and pebbles tumbling from the ceiling. The flickering lanterns wavered, casting wild, shifting shadows across the murals.
Then came the sound—a deep, guttural growl, reverberating through the chamber ahead like a distant thunderclap.
The Queen of Hearts tightened her grip on her sword. "Finally," she muttered, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The White Queen, however, narrowed her gaze. "That was no ordinary tremor."
From the darkness ahead, the growl deepened into a low, echoing snarl. The ground beneath them pulsed with an unnatural force, as if the very walls of the tunnel were breathing. Then, something shifted in the dim light—two enormous, glowing eyes flickered open.
A monstrous figure stirred, its form slowly emerging from the shadows—tall, skeletal, and draped in layers of ancient, tattered robes. A monstrous helm adorned its head, twisted horns curving backward, and from beneath the ragged fabric, long, clawed hands flexed, as if awakening from centuries of slumber.
The Talking Rose's petals trembled. "I—I didn't sense this."
"Because it wasn't alive," the General muttered grimly. "Not until now."
The creature stepped forward, its long, taloned feet scraping against the stone. The Queen of Hearts stood her ground, sword raised, defiant.
"Who dares disturb the Keepers of the Forgotten Passage?" a voice intoned—deep, hollow, as if spoken from the void itself.
The Queen of Hearts scoffed. "I am the Queen of Hearts! The rightful ruler of all Wonderland!"
The creature tilted its head ever so slightly, its glowing eyes boring into them.
"The ruler of Wonderland you say? Until you prove that claim, I shall not allow you to pass."
Then, without warning, the creature lunged. Its clawed hand swept forward like a phantom wind, faster than anything its size should have been capable of.
The Queen barely managed to parry, her blade clashing against the creature's talons, sending a shockwave rippling through the tunnel. The others immediately sprang into action—the General barking orders, and the rest pulling out their weapons.
"Defensive formation!" the General shouted. "We defeat this one or we all die here!"
The creature let out a guttural hiss, its glowing eyes narrowing as it raised its clawed hand again. Its movements were unnaturally fluid, its limbs bending at odd angles, giving it an eerie, otherworldly grace.
The Queen of Hearts gritted her teeth, pushing against the force of the creature's talons before breaking away, pivoting to the side. "Enough of this!" she snarled.
The Duchess Cook quickly hurled pepper bombs at the creature. The bombs hit their mark—but instead of piercing flesh, they passed through the creature's robes, vanishing into the swirling void beneath.
The Talking Rose gasped. "It has no true body!"
"Then we'll carve one into it!" the General bellowed, swinging his sword. The impact landed with a deafening boom, sending vibrations through the ground, but the creature barely staggered. Instead, it twisted unnaturally, slipping through the space between them, faster than a shadow.
Then it struck.
With a single sweeping motion, its claws slashed toward the General. He barely managed to raise his blade in time, but the force sent him skidding backward. The Queen of Hearts lunged to counter, her blade flashing in a deadly arc, but the creature twisted again, evading with impossible speed.
The Eaglet dashed forward next, moving with rapid agility, ducking under the creature's sweeping claws. He lashed out with his dagger, aiming for where a heart should be—only for the blade to pass through empty air.
The creature exhaled a whispering, hollow laugh. "Unworthy."
A pulse of darkness erupted from its body, a wave of force slamming into them all, sending them staggering backward.
The General gritted his teeth, rising quickly. "If it has no body, we need magic! White Queen—"
The White Queen was already moving. Her hands glowed with a soft, silvery light, her magic weaving through the air. "Then let us give it form."
She raised her hands—and suddenly, shimmering strands of light wrapped around the creature's limbs, binding it in place. The once intangible being suddenly convulsed, its form becoming solid beneath the Queen's magic.
Its glowing eyes flared with rage.
The Queen of Hearts saw her chance.
With a powerful stride, she surged forward, raising her sword high. "Let's see you evade this!"
With a furious battle cry, she brought the blade down.
The Queen of Hearts' blade struck true—yet the moment it connected, it barely left a scratch. A thin, shallow line marked the creature's form before it vanished entirely, as if swallowed by the darkness itself.
The creature laughed. A low, hollow sound that sent a chill through the tunnel. "Is that all your fury amounts to?"
Before she could react, it moved.
Faster than a shadow, it lunged forward, claws sweeping at her exposed side. The Queen barely managed to twist out of the way, the tips of its talons grazing her armor, leaving a jagged gash in the metal. She staggered back, hissing through her teeth.
"You're majesty—!" the General barked, coming to the Queen of Hearts' aid.
The archers fired with enchanted arrows—but the creature simply twisted its form, the projectiles phasing through its body as if it were nothing more than mist.
Then it struck again.
This time, it went for the Eaglet.
The young warrior barely had time to react before the creature was upon him, an impossibly fast blur. He lifted his dagger, but the force of the strike sent him flying, slamming into the tunnel wall with a pained grunt.
The White Queen flicked her wrist, attempting to reinforce the magic holding it in place, but the creature broke free with terrifying ease. The strands of light shattered like glass, falling into nothingness.
The Talking Rose gasped. "It's too strong!"
"Then we make it weaker!" the Queen of Hearts spat, gripping her sword tighter.
The General stood firm, scanning their enemy with sharp, tactical eyes. "We need to find a weakness. There has to be something!"
The creature's laughter echoed once more as it moved, weaving through them like a wraith, attacking from the darkness.
And it was getting faster.
The Queen of Hearts barely dodged another swipe from the creature, her patience running dangerously thin. With a sharp turn, she snapped her gaze toward the Cheshire Cat, who was lazily floating above the battlefield, watching with that ever-infuriating grin.
"Any ideas, cat?" she barked, her blade still locked against the creature's talons.
The Cheshire Cat tilted his head, his grin widening as his body slowly spun mid-air. "My apologies, Your Majesty," he purred, his voice laced with amusement. "But this is something I cannot meddle with. However..." He stretched, his translucent tail curling like smoke. "I'm sure you'll get by this soon enough."
The Queen of Hearts scoffed, parrying another attack with a fierce glare. "Ever useless cat!"
The Cheshire Cat simply giggled in response, his entire form flickering as if he were fading in and out of reality. With a lazy twirl, he floated even higher, keeping himself well out of harm's reach, content to merely watch.
The battle raged on, steel clashing against unyielding talons, spells flickering uselessly against the creature's shadowed hide. No matter how fiercely the Queen of Hearts and her forces fought, the guardian remained unscathed.
The General lunged, aiming for a gap in its armor, but the creature swatted him aside effortlessly. The White Queen's soldiers moved in unison, yet their combined assault barely left a scratch. The Queen of Hearts herself fought with unwavering determination, striking and parrying with every ounce of her strength. Still, it was clear—they were outmatched.
A powerful swipe sent several of the Queen's men crashing into the walls, groaning in pain. The General staggered to his feet, panting. "We can't keep this up! Our attacks aren't working!"
The Queen of Hearts clenched her jaw, frustration boiling over. Her people were faltering, their defenses crumbling, and still, the creature remained untouchable.
Then, the guardian stilled. Its glowing eyes fixated solely on her. It spoke at last, its voice like grinding stone.
"Tell me, Queen of Hearts. What are you willing to sacrifice?"
Silence filled the tunnel. The question lingered like a heavy weight.
The Queen's fingers tightened around her sword. "What nonsense is this?" she spat.
"Your kingdom is lost. Your people flee like rats. But what of you, Queen? What will you give up?"
A slow realization settled in.
She exhaled sharply. Then, before anyone could stop her, she dropped her sword.
Gasps echoed around her. The General took a step forward. "My Queen—"
She ignored him. Taking a deep breath, she lifted a bare hand to her chest—right over her heart. Then, without hesitation, she dug her nails into her skin.
Blood welled up as she ripped free a piece of herself—a glowing fragment of her very life force. It flickered wildly in her palm, pulsing, weakening her in an instant. Her vision blurred, her knees buckled, but she held strong.
She offered it.
"Take it." Her voice was steady despite the pain. "If this is the price, then so be it."
The guardian observed her for a long, silent moment. Then, it reached forward, its clawed hand closing over the fragment of her life.
The energy dissolved within its grasp.
Then, for the first time, it bowed.
"You have proven yourself, Queen of Hearts." Its voice reverberated through the passage. "You may pass."
With a slow rumble, the path ahead opened.
The Queen of Hearts gasped, expecting the searing pain to linger—but instead, she felt… nothing. Her eyes flickered down, expecting to see torn flesh and blood, yet the wound had vanished entirely, as if it had never existed.
Her fingers traced over the smooth skin in disbelief. "What in the—" she muttered.
The rest of her subjects stood frozen in place, equally stunned by what had just transpired. The General's eyes were wide, the soldiers murmuring amongst themselves, unsure of what to say. Even the ever-composed White Queen seemed momentarily taken aback.
Then, after a long pause—
"What are you all moping up for, IMBECILES? MOVE!" the Queen of Hearts suddenly barked, her voice shattering the silence.
The General flinched before quickly snapping into action. "You heard her! Move out!"
The Queen spun on her heel, her crimson cloak swishing as she strode forward through the newly revealed path. One by one, the others followed, still shaken but with renewed urgency.
As they walked, the White Queen caught up to her sister's side. With a warm smile, she patted her gently on the back.
"Well done, sister."
The Queen of Hearts scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, shut up!"
But the White Queen simply smiled again and silently followed her.