The warrior, leather-clad and lean, kneels in the shallows, her eyes blazing strength and fury.

Mist curls off the lake like breath from an ancient dream. Lady-Lake rises from the water, her gown a moonlight illusion. She holds a shimmering sword, humming with forgotten names.

Walking water, she approaches, sword proffered.

“Your prize,” she promises, “if champion against my conquest.”

Reaching out, the knight is taken, enveloped in blood-hot water. It fuck-fires her being, invading every opening of her body. The forest echoes her shrieking ecstasy.

Smiling, Fate sinks back beneath the glassy surface to await the next challenger.