Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Yellow Plains, Freedom Fighter's headquarters. Ignoring the thud of her pawn's headless body hitting the ground, Sansa spun around the hall, her intent sense stretching outward—nothing. Not a single soul within a few hundred miles. Her stomach twisted as she turned back to Wyatt, locking eyes with him.
"Where is everybody?" she demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion and utter disbelief. She thought this was another one of Wyatt's tricks. Maybe he never let her out of his celestial blood rule domain. Wyatt rose from his throne, his movements unhurried, deliberate. "In their new home," he answered smoothly, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. Before she could react, he was right next to her, his face mere inches from hers. Google seaʀᴄh 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝓷𝓮𝓽
Sansa tensed as she felt his warm breath caress her skin. A shiver ran through her, but she clenched her jaw and stubbornly held her ground, refusing to step away.
Wyatt smirked. Leaning in even closer, he whispered into her ear, his voice dripping with amusement, "Now do you believe me? The contract was just a formality—for your peace of mind. So don't get any funny ideas, unless you want to experience firsthand… there are things far worse than death."
Sansa's breath hitched. His words sent an icy chill down her spine, but it was the sensation of his breath on her skin that truly unnerved her. Her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to that humiliating moment from earlier—on her knees before his crotch, powerless, trapped in her flesh.
For a fleeting second, she felt it all over again. The helplessness. The despair. Then something inside her snapped. Her trembling gaze hardened, her quivering lips curling into something sharp and fierce.
Without warning she used her haunting memory on Wyatt, another Sansa materialized behind him. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Her memory formed a claw with her hand and struck, driving it straight for his chest, intending to rip his heart out.
Her promise to her beloved be damned. As long as Wyatt was alive she would be the same little girl crying for her daddy at her father's funeral. The attack landed. Too easily. Her sharp fingers tore through Wyatt's back like paper, piercing through to his chest. A beat later, she yanked his heart free, still warm, still pulsing in her grasp.
It was too damn easy, easier than in her mind. Her breath caught. Something wasn't right. Both Sansas stared, their eyes widening in shock. Wyatt's memory of her should have began to lose its prowess the moment his heart was torn from his body—but it didn't.
Realization hit them both at once. They had failed. Before they could react, the entire room was swallowed in red. Their bodies were locked up. Muscles rigid. Breath stolen. The fierce, murderous gleam in their eyes evaporated in an instant, replaced by something far more primal—Horror.
Wyatt's memory of Sansa shattered into nothing, dissolving into his domain like ash in the red wind. Meanwhile, he reached out and gently smoothed down a stray lock of her silky, long hair, his touch almost… affectionate.
As his heart effortlessly regenerated, the hole in his back sealing shut, he leaned in close—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear.
"Do you want another try?" he murmured, his voice teasing, almost amused. "Maybe go for my head next?"
Sansa's stomach twisted into knots. Terror coiled around her like a vice, suffocating, paralyzing. She felt like a helpless fawn caught between the jaws of a tiger, utterly at its mercy. If she had control over her body right now, she knew she'd be trembling uncontrollably—or worse, she might have even soiled herself.
Then, a sliver of control returned—not over her body, but over her mouth. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to speak. Swallowing down the raw panic clawing at her throat, she forced out the words, trying—and failing—to mask the quiver in her voice, "I'm sorry… please, forgive me. This won't happen again. I promise you, I will do my best to help you kill the emissary of light."
"Sigh—" Wyatt exhaled, the disappointment in his tone unmistakable. But before he could say anything, Sansa hurriedly cut in, her words tumbling out in a rush, as if her life depended on it, "The Emissary of Light didn't accept Gideon Grim's offer. When Gideon put forward his proposal to help him become a demigod, the Emissary of Light broke through to the Card Demigod realm on the spot and immediately started hunting Gideon down across the empire—despite Gideon offering even more favorable terms to gain his alliance. Ultimately, he even stooped to buy his forgiveness with them. But the Emissary of Light was not moved by his terms & offers, and just when he was about to finish him off, Gideon magically vanished from the Card World."
Wyatt's eyes widened slightly. That changed things. Sansa's words confirmed what he had already suspected—he couldn't allow the Emissary of Light to leave the Card World. He had to end him before that ever became a possibility. Thankfully, the Emissary himself didn't seem to have any interest in leaving. Still, it was a dangerous variable.
"Details," Wyatt muttered, his voice low and demanding. Sansa swallowed hard. She had utterly lost to Wyatt. There was no point in putting up a febble resistance only to irk him further.
"That's all I know," she said in distress, then quickly added, "but the Central Government and the Empire suspect that Gideon Grim might have a card capable of inter-realm travel—something similar to Henricks' or maybe even more effective."
She didn't hesitate to spill everything that came to mind. She thought it was better to submit right now than to suffer humiliation at Wyatt's hands. Because if she let this go any further, she wasn't sure she'd even be able to face her husband during their honeymoon. She was willing to do anything to save her purity for her beloved. "What reason did the Emissary of Light give for hunting down Gideon Grim?" Wyatt asked, his gaze sharp as he tried to piece it all together, 'Why had the Emissary of Light rejected Gideon's offer?'
As a Devil Merchant and a member of the 'Seven Princes of Hell' faction, Gideon Grim had the kind of leverage that was nearly impossible to turn down—especially for Emissary of Light who felt limited in the Card World. The terms Gideon must have offered should've been more than tempting. And yet, the Emissary of Light had chosen to chase him down instead. There had to be a reason.