Under the sun-soaked canopy of leaves and branches, the greatest war ever waged was about to commence. The forest was no stranger to stories. Fairytales and folklore warned children not to stray too deep into the dense woods. Direwolves and great bears the size of mountains roamed inside them, as well as giant eagles with a taste for human flesh.

However, for Akkael the Hero, it was nothing to fear. Standing four-foot-five and wielding a stick for a sword, he was ready to fight. His brother, Magar, barely seven, was trapped in the roots of the prison tree, locked away and in need of rescue.

Akkael took one step forward, mulch and twigs pressed underfoot. There was no sign of the enemy, but he knew she was somewhere. He had agreed to close his eyes and count to ten, giving her time to hide. It was a chivalrous gesture befitting a warrior such as Akkael the Hero.

“Mwahahaha!” cackled the villain. Akkael spun around with his sword aloft but couldn’t find the source of the laughing.

“She’s behind-” started Magar, the hostage.

“Shhhhhh!” bellowed the hero and the villain in unison. Akkael continued searching for the assailant, anticipating the battle ahead.

Then, like a shadow, the witch appeared from the left. She was around the same height as Akkael but hunched over when she remembered to do so.

“Alas,” croaked the girl, “it is I, the evil witch… Goldfinger!”

Akkael wasn’t afraid. He took a fighting stance, fist up against the guard of his blade, which happened to be a twig tied across the bottom end of a longer stick.

“Free my brother at once, you fiend.” A few nights ago, Akkael heard one of the actors in a play call someone a fiend. It sounded cool and felt contextually apt.

“I shall do no such thing,” barked Goldfinger. “He makes a very appetising first course. And you… SHALL BE THE SECOND!”

She had wrapped autumn leaves around her fingers in a cone shape to look like long fingernails. They were held in place with string, but two had already fallen off and were left abandoned. However, the mud she used to make a fake mole still held nicely.

“Please, brother, save me like the hero you were born to be,” said Magar. He delivered his line perfectly, if slightly emotionless.

Akkael, hearing the plea of his brother, readied himself for battle. “Goldfinger, prepare to die, you fiend,” he said, repeating his new favourite word.

Goldfinger cackled. “Not likely!” She pulled back her cloak to reveal a sword of her own, which was tucked in her trouser leg. She lifted it out, careful not to nick herself with imperfections in the stick. Then, she held it out, ready to fight as well.

“Bring it on.”

The fight began.

They were careful not to get carried away, as they had rehearsed the movements for weeks and were precious about the execution. Top left swing, top right swing. Blade met blade as they went through each move, with a speed suggesting the hours they had practised each strike. Akkael knew when to duck before seeing the stick swing, flying above his head. He struck at Goldfinger’s feet, and she jumped with perfect timing. She stabbed at him, but he rolled away, getting back to his feet.

They ran through all the moves they had rehearsed multiple times until it was finally time for the hero to win. Akkael, with a look of bravery like a protagonist in a play, drove the sword into Goldfinger’s armpit. She held it in place and collapsed, raising one hand to the sky and gasping for her last breaths. Then, she closed her eyes, and Akkael knew she was dead.

He walked over to the tree and pulled his younger brother out of the roots. Magar rolled his eyes. “Thank you, brother. You saved my life.”

“Of course,” Akkael grinned, putting his hands on his hips. “Saving people is what I do.”

Suddenly, Goldfinger awoke from her death, inhaling sharply. “Alas, I have been defeated,” she croaked, sitting up and letting the stick fall from her armpit. “But this is not the end of the witch, Goldfinger. Oh, no. Petty mortals like yourself will never understand the strength I possess. Mark my words, hero. As sure as the sun sets, rainclouds form, and darkness cloaks the night, I shall return. I am Goldfinger, and I will live… FOREVER! MWAHAHAHA!!!”

Goldfinger stopped speaking and looked at the boys, waiting for their feedback on her monologue. Akkael and Magar just looked at each other and shrugged before turning back, incensed.

“What the fuck was that Alani?” said Akkael.

Alani smiled. “My monologue. What did you think?”

Akkael stepped forward. “We agreed this was the going to be the death of Goldfinger. We spent a week planning this battle, ready for this huge climax, and you’re bringing her back?”

Alani stood up, pulling the leaves off her fingers. “Goldfinger is my character! If I want to bring her back, I will.”

Akkael turned to Magar and threw his arms up in the air. “Can you believe this shit?”

Magar just raised his shoulders. “I don’t know. She’s your twin. Can I go home now?”

“What did we say?” said Akkael. “Keep complaining, and we won’t let you play with us again.”

“Yeah, Magar, shut up,” continued Alani. “You’re the youngest, so I’ll decide when we go home.”

“Hey!” Akkael gasped. “We are the same age. I should decide, too.”

“Yeah, but I was born first. So…” She stuck her tongue out at Akkael.

“That’s fucking dumb,” said Akkael.

Magar stomped into the mud under his foot. “If we don’t go home now, I’ll tell Da you keep swearing.”

Akkael scowled at his younger brother. “Don’t you dare!”

“Da won’t care anyway; he swears all the time,” said Alani.

“Are you sure?” said Magar, puffing out his chest.

Akkael and Alani looked at each other, panic written across their faces.

“The game’s over anyway. Let’s head back,” conceded Akkael to the dejected look of his sister.

“Good!” said Magar.

“The first one out of the woods gets to pick what we play tomorrow!” yelled Alani, already sprinting away from her brothers.

“Wait, no,” screamed Akkael, running after her. “That’s not fair.”

Magar sighed and tried his best to keep up.

They left the prison tree, leaves rustling in the wind. Roots, like long fangs, bit into the ground. The tree had witnessed the Torne siblings play in its enclosure many times, fighting, bickering, and laughing as children do. Goldfinger and Akkael the Hero rehearsed and battled for years in front of it.

However, this was the last time the tree would watch Akkael and his twin sister play there. It would never see Alani again.

So much can change in a few days.