Goliath roared - a sound that rattled the whole of Blackthorn forest. Once again, the earth beneath him trembled.
But still, the Cook stood her ground, her apron stained with soot and her arms already cocked back to throw another pepper bomb.
The giant stepped once more but before he could charge, a hail of arrows loosed from the treetops. They struck Goliath's thick hide, but more than just piercing its skin, clouds of hallucinogenic dust were released.
The giant faltered, shaking his head violently as visions flickered behind his hollow eyes. For a moment, the world twisted—the trees stretched into impossible shapes, the sky melted, the Duchess Cook in front of him grinned with too many teeth.
And so they showed themselves, dropping from nearby trees, a platoon of card soldiers, their armors scuffed and dented, their painted suits of hearts and spades partially scrubbed away.
At their lead, a gnarled old Ace of Spades landed on a twisted root.
"Back in the fight at last, are we?" he barked. His voice was gruff, worn by years of defiance.
"Took you all long enough!," the Duchess Cook barked back, while hurling another pepper bomb at the Giant.
Then, another blur of motion, two in particular charging like speeding balls on the ground until they collided with the Giant's shins, spikes burying themselves on its skin.
Then the two new arrivals grinned, a pair of hedgehogs, their quills sharpened to vicious points.
Then came a swarm of Rocking-Horse Fly, their wings buzzing as they dove towards Goliath's face in a relentless swarm. Their wings sliced like daggers on his skin, but the Giant was too dizzy to pay heed.
"Attack! Don't give him a chance to fight back!," the Talking Rose called out. Then she focused, causing thorny vines to shoot up from the earth, snarling the Giant's wrists and ankles.
Then, a glass vial was hurled in the air, shattering against the Giant's shoulders letting a bubbling Tart-and-Terror Jelly explode into sticky, searing flames. And from the direction it was hurled, the Fish Footman emerged, pausing just beside the Duchess Cook, a trident held firmly in his hand. "Wew! That one's really big!"
Then, with a mighty war cry, a Bandersnatch leaped—its powerful limbs propelling it onto Goliath's back, claws digging in. It snapped at his neck, fangs searching for an opening.
Goliath staggered. He swung wildly, knocking creatures aside, but they were relentless.
And then another wave of creatures, Velveteen Hounds—patchwork beasts of stitched fur and forgotten toys. They lunged at Goliath's ankles, biting, holding on with a tenacity that defied their soft, plush forms.
And again, from above, Candlefly Moths flickered down, their bioluminescent bodies trailing embers as they spiraled toward the Giant. When they touched his skin, they ignited, bursts of fiery light searing against his flesh.
For a moment, he felt it—a phantom of what it meant to be mortal.
Pain.
But pain only served to fuel his rage.
With a snarl, he tore free from the thorned vines coiling around his limbs, his sheer strength shattering the enchanted growth. He swung a fist, sending the Bandersnatch flying into a tree with a sickening crunch.
The Talking Rose gasped, trying to summon another wave of vines, but Goliath ripped through them, the remnants turning to withered husks in his wake.
His eyes—empty, hollow, devoid of life—began to glow with a deeper, unnatural darkness.
The hallucinogenic dust was fading.
The smoke and flames still clung to him, but they would not be enough.
And then—
Something changed.
Goliath's breath stilled. His form seemed to expand, the shadows around him lengthening, reaching toward him like tendrils eager to obey his will.
The arrows embedded in his flesh all dissolved into nothing.
They kept on attacking but nothing seemed to hurt him anymore.
The Bandersnatch, snarling, leapt away just in time, sensing something terribly, horribly wrong.
And then, the forest grew colder.
A deep, abyssal bellow erupted from the Giant's chest, shaking the very trees around them. Shadows poured from his form like living tendrils, swirling, coiling, merging into a dark storm of energy. His massive fists clenched, and with a shuddering step, the ground beneath him cracked.
The Duchess' Cook froze, her eyes locked on the writhing darkness.
"Fall back," she whispered, her grip tightening on the last pepper bomb in her hand.
The soldiers hesitated.
"FALL BACK!" she roared, her voice breaking with urgency. "RUN—NOW!"
And then—
He moved.
Faster than anything his size had a right to.
His fist slammed into the earth, sending a shockwave exploding outward.
A void of energy burst through the battlefield—unstoppable, inescapable.
BOOM.
The Velveteen Hounds caught in its radius were disintegrated, their soft forms burned away by the necrotic blast.
The Candlefly Moths flickered once before their lights snuffed out, their bodies falling like dying embers.
The Hedgehogs barely had time to roll away before the force sent them tumbling, their spikes rattling like chimes in the air.
The Bandersnatch dug its claws into the earth, snarling as it braced itself.
The Fish Footman dove behind a rock, his trident braced against the impact. The Duchess Cook barely managed to hurl herself behind another rock, arms shielding her face from the wave of malevolent energy. her apron flaring as the ground around her cracked apart.
The Rocking-Horse Flies, so many of them, fell from the sky like ash, their tiny forms crumbling into dust.
The Talking Rose screamed as the force hit her—the shockwave burned through her petals, shriveling them to blackened curls.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then, the survivors—those who could still move—looked up.
The Duchess' Cook gritted her teeth.
This is bad.
She had known that their enemies were strong. But she had hoped they could at least gang up on one. Defeat one of them if they give it all they got.
But now? She saw it.
A towering giant standing at the center of it all.
Unharmed.
Untouched.
But it did not end there. Shadows that coiled around him shifted.
Something emerged from his back—something new.
A pair of tattered, shadow-woven wings unfurled, stretching out like a storm over the battlefield.
For the first time, true fear gripped the battlefield.
And then—
He moved.
A single step forward, and the earth shuddered beneath his weight.
And so, the Cook's breath hitched.
"No, this is impossible. We stand no chance against that monster." She then turned sharply, her voice rising above the chaos. "RETREAT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"
The survivors didn't hesitate.
Card soldiers, beasts, all creatures that still lived all turned and fled into the depths of the forest. The forest around them was still marked by the smell of scorched air.
The Fish Footman barely kept up, his long coat catching on brambles as he ran alongside the Duchess' Cook.
The Talking Rose, its petals now charred and crumbling, tried to keep up, its vines lashing at the ground, desperate to pull itself forward.
But Goliath just watched them go.
For a moment, he did not pursue.
Instead, he stood amidst the ruin, his fists tightening at his sides. His chest rose and fell in slow, heavy breaths, though no air filled his lungs.
The power that surged through him—it was boundless, endless, and consuming.
It whispered to him.
It called to him.
More.
More.
More.
Goliath's lips curled into something that might have been a grin in another life.
Then, with a single step, he followed.
He glided, his shadowy wings spreading wide, his form almost weightless as he surged forward like a phantom.
The first to fall was the old Ace of Spades who had not been fast enough.
There was no ceremony, no drawn-out battle. One moment, he was running. The next—
Goliath's hand crushed down upon him.
The playing card's armor crumpled like paper. He gasped, but no sound came, for the shadow tendrils coiled around him, snuffing out breath, crushing bone.
A final, pitiful whimper—then nothing.
Goliath released his grip. The husk of the soldier crumbled to dust.
The others saw.
The others screamed.
"Faster! Faster!" the Cook shouted, dragging the Fish Footman with her. "Do not look back! Just RUN!"
But the Giant was relentless.
His wings beat once, and he surged forward with terrifying speed.
The Talking Rose, already weakened, let out a choked cry as a shadow tendril speared through its vines, pinning it to a tree.
"You're not leaving," Goliath growled, his voice a hollow, abyssal echo.
The Rose writhed, its petals curling in agony.
Then, Goliath tore it apart.
Not with a swing of his fist. Not with brute strength.
The shadows themselves consumed it, unraveling the once-proud rebel, turning its form to wisps of nothingness.
The forest trembled.
The Duchess' Cook clenched her fists, shaking. She had seen battles. She had seen horrors.
But this?
This was beyond war.
"Don't stop! Don't stop running!" she shouted.
Because if they did—
They would not escape alive.
Goliath exhaled, though there was no breath in his lungs.
The shadows around him pulsed, feeding off his rage. More. The whispers begged him. More. More.
His wings unfurled again, their tattered edges flickering like dying embers. The Cook and her ragged band were still within sight, their silhouettes darting through the tangled forest.
The hunt was not over.
Goliath took another step—
And the world trembled.
A shockwave erupted from where he stood. It rolled outward, tearing through the battlefield like a storm. The trees nearest to him splintered under the force. The ground cracked, deep fissures forming as the very earth recoiled from his presence.
The shockwave caught the slowest among them first.
A Velveteen Hound let out a pitiful yelp as it was engulfed in the wave. It collapsed mid-stride, its fur blackening, its body curling in pain as if seared by an invisible flame.
A Card Soldier, turned at the last second, his face twisted in grim defiance. But the wave hit him before he could brace.
His body burst into cinders.
The Fish Footman and the Duchess' Cook were lucky to immediately find refuge under the roots of a fallen tree.
And then they listened.
Waiting.
Had it stopped?
Had the monster—
Then they heard it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Unstoppable.
The Cook's heart pounded. She pressed a hand over her mouth, forcing herself to stay silent.
The Fish Footman trembled, gripping his trident tighter.
The Bandersnatch, badly wounded, stifled a whimper, its body curled against the dirt.
Then—
A laugh.
Low. Amused. Cold.
Goliath knew they were still there.
And he was not finished.
He took another step forward.
His shadow-woven wings curled like a storm behind him, blotting out the moonlight that pierced through the forest canopy. His presence choked the air, his very existence turning the once-vibrant forest into a land of death.
The Cook gritted her teeth, pressing herself harder against the fallen tree. They had no chance. None of them did.
Then—
A gust of wind.
A flash of white.
A glow burst through the trees, brilliant and blinding, its radiance clashing against the suffocating darkness that surrounded Goliath. The light rippled outward, cutting through the scorched battlefield, washing over the broken earth and shattered remains of those who had fallen.
Goliath snarled, his shadow-woven wings instinctively snapping inward to shield himself from the sudden intrusion.
Then came the voice.
"Enough."
It was not a plea.
The shadows trembled. The darkness around him wavered, as if for the first time, it was uncertain.
The White Queen had arrived.
She stood at the edge of the battlefield, her flowing white robes untouched by the filth and blood that tainted the earth. Her pale, slender hands held a long scepter of woven light.
Her gaze fell upon the fallen rebels, the Duchess' Cook, the Talking Rose, the Fish Footman—all battered, beaten, but alive. Her people.
And then, she looked upon Goliath.
The Giant stared back.
For the first time since his rebirth—he hesitated.
Then he bared his teeth, flexing his fingers as the darkness around him lashed out—but it did not reach her.
The light at her fingertips held the shadows at bay.
"You have done enough," she spoke again, stepping forward. Her voice was calm, unshaken, and yet it carried the weight of a thousand judgments.
Goliath's wings twitched. His fists clenched.
"I do not answer to you," he rumbled, his voice like an earthquake.
The Queen tilted her head, studying him—not with fear, not with hatred, but with something else. Understanding.
"Then whom do you answer to, Goliath?"
His name. She spoke his name.
For a flicker of a second, something stirred in the void where his heart had once been.
But the whispers howled in response, surging around him in a violent storm.
More. More. More.
Goliath let out a bellow, his massive form lunging for her. His wings flared, his fist raised—
And then—
The White Queen lifted her scepter.
A brilliant flash erupted, swallowing the battlefield whole.
But Goliath's darkness did not yield.
It was a clash of light and darkness, violently erupting across the forest.
Goliath's shadow-woven wings unfurled to their full span, their jagged edges dripping with an abyssal haze. With a mighty beat, he launched forward, fist drawn back, a living storm of darkness and raw power.
The White Queen did not flinch.
She moved with graceful precision, her scepter whirling in her grasp as a shield of luminescent energy erupted before her.
Boom!
Goliath's punch struck the shield like a falling comet, the impact blasting wind and debris in every direction. The earth cracked beneath them.
But the Queen stood firm.
She twisted, her silver robes flowing like liquid moonlight as she spun her staff in a perfect arc. A crescent of white fire erupted from the tip, slashing through the air toward Goliath's chest.
He crossed his arms just in time. The fire seared his skin.
He snarled, the shadows around him coiling in defiance, snuffing out the light before it could linger.
Then, with a roar, Goliath spread his wings and shot into the sky, black lightning crackling around him. He hovered for a moment, then dove, his fist wreathed in pure, crushing void.
The Queen met him midair.
Their collision sent shockwaves rippling through the trees, light and darkness crashing against each other in a battle neither would yield.
Below, the survivors watched in stunned silence.
The Duchess' Cook clutched her last pepper bomb, her knuckles white. The Talking Rose and the Fish Footman stared, still frozen in fear.
It was the Bandersnatch who moved first.
With a guttural snarl, the beast shook itself, its fur bristling. Its instincts screamed at it to flee, but somewhere deep inside, another instinct growled louder—the need to protect.
It dug its claws into the scorched ground, then launched forward.
The Cook saw it move.
She saw the battle raging above.
She saw the Queen holding the line alone.
And she made her choice.
Gripping her pepper bomb, she hurled it with all her might.
It exploded against Goliath's exposed side, releasing a thick cloud of white-hot powder. His body seized for just a second—just long enough for the White Queen to strike.
Her scepter flared, and a column of radiant force slammed into Goliath's chest, sending him crashing back down to the battlefield.
The impact left a crater.
And then—
The Fish Footman charged.
His trident spun in his grip before he thrust it forward, aiming for Goliath's side. The prongs of the weapon sparked with magical energy, tearing into the shadows that surrounded the giant.
The Bandersnatch pounced, its fangs snapping at Goliath's wings, trying to tear them apart.
Goliath snarled, his body shifting with unnatural force. A pulse of darkness erupted from him, sending the rebels sprawling.
Goliath gritted his teeth. Then he lunged.
His fist swung like a battering ram, a massive strike meant to end the fight in one blow. The White Queen twisted in the air, her movement impossibly graceful as she deflected the strike with her scepter. Light and darkness clashed again, sending waves of force shredding the trees around them.
The Fish Footman charged.
His trident flashed, striking at Goliath's legs, the steel barely scratching the titan's hardened skin. The Bandersnatch leaped onto his back again, but this time, Goliath grabbed the beast midair, twisting and slamming it into the ground with a resounding boom.
The Duchess' Cook hurled another pepper bomb.
But Goliath caught it mid-flight.
He crushed it in his grip, the fine powder bursting in his palm, but he did not even flinch. His head turned, hollow eyes locking onto her.
The Cook froze.
Then—
A wave of light washed over the battlefield.
The White Queen descended, touching the ground. She raised her scepter, and suddenly, a warm glow spread over her allies.
Their wounds sealed, their limbs felt lighter, their weapons hummed with power.
The Fish Footman gasped, feeling an unnatural energy surge through his limbs. His trident pulsed, its metal gleaming with enchantment.
The Bandersnatch shook itself, its bruises fading, its claws sharpening like diamond points.
And the Duchess' Cook felt her heartbeat steady, her exhaustion lifting. The heat of battle returned to her veins.
She grinned.
"Oh, that's more like it."
The White Queen's voice rang clear, regal and unwavering.
"Let's strike together."
And they did.
The Bandersnatch lunged, its claws now cutting into Goliath's flesh, tearing deep into the corrupted energy that coursed through his veins.
The Fish Footman's trident found purchase, the metal spearing into Goliath's side, and this time, the Giant grunted in pain.
The Duchess' Cook, feeling newfound strength, rushed forward, twisting mid-step, and hurled an entire cauldron of boiling-hot Tart-and-Terror Jelly.
The impact sent sizzling flames across Goliath's chest.
The Giant staggered.
For the first time, they saw it.
A wound.
It was small. Barely anything. But it was there.
The White Queen raised her scepter once more.
"Do not stop!" she commanded.
The battlefield, once drowned in despair, shifted.
The sight of the White Queen standing firm, of the Bandersnatch clawing through the giant's flesh, of the Duchess' Cook grinning despite the danger—it ignited something in those who had fled.
The fear still clung to them, whispering that this battle was impossible. But another voice—stronger, defiant, and furious—rose within them.
A Rocking-Horse Fly started it, its single remaining wing flickering with stubborn determination. It darted through the air, its blade-like wings slicing toward the giant's exposed skin.
Then, from beneath the battlefield, two hedgehogs burst from the dirt, their sharpened quills aiming for Goliath's ankles.
And then—a battle cry rang out.
The White Knights had arrived.
From the far side of the forest, the White Queen's army surged forward. A wave of white banners, gleaming armor, and polished swords crashed into the fray.
A remaining platoon of Card Soldiers—bruised, battered, but not broken—marched alongside them.
The Duchess' Cook laughed, breathless. "Took you all long enough!"
The White Knights charged in formation, their blades clashing against the giant's shadow-woven form.
The Fish Footman struck again, his trident infused with the White Queen's light, leaving searing wounds along Goliath's massive legs.
The Bandersnatch howled, its fangs finally sinking into the corrupted flesh at Goliath's shoulder.
The Talking Rose twisted its vines, wrapping around the Giant's arm, forcing it still.
The Rocking-Horse Fly, though weak, swooped in again, its razor-like wings slashing across Goliath's face.
Goliath let out a monstrous bellow, shadow energies surging.
But this time, the warriors did not falter.
The White Queen raised her scepter, her voice resounding like a bell through the battlefield.
"Now! While he is wounded—STRIKE!"
And so, they struck as one.