Chapter Text
Enola swallowed heavily as she reached the end of the wooden plank, staring down at the stage from her precarious position. If she fell, she would have quite a long way until she landed. Her hands were shaking from adrenaline, her heart racing while she looked around, weighing her options.
She could hear the sounds of scuffle far below, most likely the efforts of both her brother and Tewksbury. She hoped that they would be alright, and that Sarah and Bessie had gotten far enough away already. There wasn’t much time to ponder anything else when the sound of heavy footsteps came rushing behind her.
The instant she turned around, a knife was thrust into her chest.
For a few moments, Enola could do nothing but stare down at the offending weapon in pure shock. She didn’t feel any pain whatsoever, however, she figured it must be a delayed reaction. Within seconds, she’d be falling to the ground, gripping her chest in agony, surely.
To her immense surprise and relief, Grail pulled the knife away from her torso, only to find that it had been a fake one all along. Of course, Enola thought to herself, Mae’s trick knife.
Grail appeared to be just as shocked as her, staring at the knife in confusion. Enola used the delay to deliver a sharp punch to the side of his head, knocking him back a few steps. As he attempted to regain his balance, she threw another punch, but Grail was able to grab hold of her arm, blocking the hit. He proceeded to grab the back of her neck tightly, then slammed her head into a hard wooden pole on the side of the planks.
Enola let out a groan at the horrible pain that erupted in her head, feeling her world tilt as Grail sent another punch to her face. She fell down on the plank, instantly curling onto her side while her head swam dangerously. Her temples pounded with agony, yet, she still attempted to push herself up. Grail had now turned his attention to an iron hook that was latched onto the suspending poles, taking it into his hands.
Primal fear surged through Enola’s body at the sight of the weapon and Grail’s horribly satisfied smile. She propped herself onto her elbows and shuffled away, giving herself a bit of distance from the man before she could push herself to her feet. As she stood, her vision went blurry for a moment, threatening to send her plummeting off the plank. However, she stood her ground and prepared for the swinging hook.
She noticed the proof lying between them as Grail prepared to strike her. So focused on the fight, she hadn’t even noticed that she dropped it. No matter what, she could not let him have it. Quickly, she reached for the parchment, pulling her hand away only seconds before the hook came down exactly where she had it.
Straightening herself up from her lunged position, Enola attempted to keep her balance as she stepped away from the approaching man. Her arms were so frenzied with trying to prevent herself from falling, that she had no time to defend herself from the next strike. It was swung roughly against her side, surely leaving an awful bruise. She couldn’t stop the whimper of pain that escaped her mouth as she wrapped her arms around her torso, curling into herself once more.
She looked up at Grail to find him swinging the iron hook again, and she knew this would be it.
She had no time to do anything, and her body already radiated with unbelievable pain. It was far worse than her fight with Linthorn. And that was before the hook slashed her temple.
Truthfully, Enola didn’t feel the impact until a few moments after it hit, and she felt blood rushing down her face. It was only then, that her world exploded in agony, and she fell back against the wooden plank. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, which was quite concerning, considering the amount of trouble she had gotten into over the past couple of years. Her head felt like it was about to split at her temple; it frightened her to think of how deep the cut could be.
She didn’t notice that she had been closing her eyes until she felt Grail looming over her. She opened them slowly, taking in his evilly satisfied smirk. The man leaned closer to grab the proofs that were still clutched tightly in Enola’s hand, refusing to let go. However, in her weakened state, she wasn’t able to put up much of a fight. After a few seconds of tugging, Grail was able to easily slip the papers out of her hands.
He was saying something to her, but Enola could barely hear over the rushing in her ears. A tear slowly slipped out the corner of her eye, blurring her vision more than it already was. She felt as though she were about to pass out at any moment, despite her desperate hopes that she wouldn’t. The matchgirls were counting on her; she simply couldn’t let Grail take the proof, even if she was seconds away from falling unconscious.
“Goodbye, Enola Holmes,” Grail’s voice suddenly made its way to her ears. It seemed that he had finally finished whatever final words he wanted to give her. Panic filled her bones as he moved to push her off the plank and down to the stage. She wasn’t sure if the fall was high enough to kill a person outright, but with her weakened state and the way Grail seemed to be positioning her to fall directly on her head, it was most likely she would die.
But she wouldn’t go out with a fight.
Using the last bit of her strength, she grabbed onto him tightly as he pushed her off, taking him down with her.
The last thing she heard was a familiar voice screaming her name. Her vision went dark before she hit the ground.