The wrought iron doors were massive, with twisting, sharp designs etched into it. Every curve, every artistic protrusion and flair, ended in a sick point. It resembled a deathly vine, all thorns and malice. It was through this doorway that my quest would finally end; months of journeying, fighting, bleeding, and starving, would finally be worth it.

I would walk in with my sword, and out with the queen's head.

But I knew it wouldn't be easy. The Queen will have concocted some sickly puzzle, some moral dilemma for me to sort before I could reach her. No doubt the palace has been prepared for intruders with trap doors and traps. She would surround herself with her most dangerous bodyguards, the Greys in their ashen cloaks and impossibly sharp blades.

I downed a vial of Courage, its super-sweet syrup not quite pleasant as it passed over my tongue. Immediately, my heartbeat raced, the gloomy sky brightened, and my anxieties dissolved. One day I would have to stop using potion. But how?

That was riddle for another time. Now was the time for vengeance.

My muscles bulged as the Courage coursed through my veins. I withdrew my sword and the Tome of Entrance picked from the Coastal Sorcerer's library. I could use it only once to open any door, and here, at the end of my journey, before these colossal monstrosities, was the most perfect time.

I read the words on the browned parchment, and as the elven language was recited, the characters glowed a bright blue and the parchment disintegrated in my hands.

The doors groaned, metal twisting against itself.

Then they opened into an orange brightness.

Don't fail me now, Courage.

I jumped in, expecting an ambush. What I saw was...different.

The Queen's court was in session. Her evil kingdom's elite were congregated, each with the colors and standards of their houses, adorned in courtly attire: gowns and suits.

There was a smattering of applause by some, and a low bow by many more. They were aiming their respect...toward me?

What is this? The words barely escaped my lips.

"You're early!" A booming voice echoed across the hall. The queen sat, reclined on her throne. Her face was painted with a knowing, affectionate smirk.

She looked the same as the posters: tall, easily clearing ten feet; golden hair done up with intricate braids; bright blue, piercing eyes with long lashes. She was a fearsome beauty, a bringer of equal parts fear and lust among her victims.

"Well?" She cocked her head to me, "close the door, will you? It's chilly out there."

Without thinking, I turned to the door to close it. Wait, what am I doing? I turned back around, pointing my sword at the Queen.

"I'm here to end your reign of terror!" My voice felt inadequate to hers.

"Can we close the door first?"

My sword wavered in the air as I processed the request. Without taking my eyes off the reclined royalty, I scooted back, nudging the heavy doors with my feet. I shot the Queen a look that said is that okay?

She responded with a look of her own: that's good, thanks.

Servants approached me with food and drink. I was surrounded by neatly-dressed men and women offering me ale and some delectable smoked meats on crackers and bread.

I spun my sword around to ward off the unlikely ambush.

"I'm not here to dine! I'm here to kill you!" I shouted to the Queen, to the bemusement of her congregation.

"Why?" She asked, the knowing smile still plastered on her face.

"Because...you're evil. Your armies have killed thousands...Do...Do you really not know?"

"Oh, that." She waved off my righteous anger with the flap of a hand. "Never happened."

"Never happened? I was there! I saw the destruction! I wandered through the scorched buildings! I lost friends to you!"

"Oh? Did you bury any bodies?"

"There was nothing left to bury!" I growled through gritted teeth.

She leaned forward. "There was nothing to bury in the first place."

I blinked hard, the connections in my brain reluctantly meeting. "What?"

"It's no coincidence that every burned town and evil outpost was personally significant to you. your father's childhood home, your brother's trading ship, your friends' 'secret' meeting spot."

"You've been stalking me?"

"Yes," she nodded curtly, as if I should have pieced that together by now. "But, I assure you, it was all for a good cause."

"What good cause could involve killing the people I love!?"

"I haven't killed anyone," she shrugged.

I opened my mouth to speak when I spotted a face in the crowd. Jero was clean shaven, healthy. Like the rest of the nobles surrounding him, he was smiling.

"Brother," I whispered, disbelieving.

"Yep, everyone's safe. Everybody was relocated, compensated for their move, paid to participate in the charade."

"Charade?" My mouth was dry, hands shaking as the Courage had no outlet for its energy.

"Oh," she wore a mock expression of sympathy. "I'm not really an evil queen. I'm sorry. I just needed to know if you were worthy. And, hey! Good news! You're worthy!"

"Worthy of what?"

"Why, of my queendom! Though, I suspect, when you take over, you'll want it to be a kingdom, won't you?

I shook my head. This was some sort of trick of the mind, some kind of magic that clouded my thoughts and made me see things that weren't true. I thought about retreating, regrouping. I was compromised as I was.

A familiar group approached me: my father, my friends, my brother. They patted me on my back, embraced me in hugs and kisses on my face. I couldn't bring myself to return the affection. I wasn't convinced that any of this was real.

My father placed both of his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry for the trickery, Pol. When the Seers told me you were destined for greatness..." He shook his head. "I was trying to do the best for you."

He looked like my father. He spoke like my father. He had that faint stale pipe smoke smell to him. My body wanted to embrace him, but my mind wouldn't let me. If I simply accept this all as truth, my entire life would have been a lie. My understanding of the world would fall apart.

My quest would end.

The Courage would stop.

"I'm sorry," I told the specter posing as my father.

A gasp swept over the crowd. Guards pulled their weapons from their sides. The Queen straightened suddenly from her relaxed posture, eyes wider than I thought they could go.

My creature posing as my father fell backwards, blood bubbling from his mouth as my sword slid out from his gut.

My hand still shook, the tip of my sword now dripping red. A powerful sadness pulled at the edge of my mind. With my free hand, I uncorked another vial of Courage.

I would have the Queen's head today.