Seven years earlier…

    He awoke. Breathing heavily, the scant amount of oxygen in the air was not enough to satisfy his thirsty lungs. Flash, then: thunder. It began raining. Hard. The water cleared the air and washed the smoke from his eyes. Another lighting flash followed by a sound that shook the earth. Everything was gone… the beast had taken it.

2: The Beauty

    He awoke. This time in his large bed at the King’s castle. Someone was knocking at the door, calling his name. “Christopher,” the deep voice came, “the King wishes to see you.” He jumped out of bed, feet smacking the cold marble floor. Putting on his robe, he opened the bedroom door.

    “I am on my way,” he told the royal guard member standing at his door and proceeded to walk down the hallway to see his adoptive Father. After rounding the final corner, he came in view of the King.

    “My son!” He called to Christopher, arms opened wide.

    “Father,” Christopher said respectfully as the King put his arms on Christopher’s shoulders.

    “How did you sleep?”

    “Fine. What did you want me for?” Christopher asked, curious.

    “Ah yes. I have a gift for you.” Christopher’s expression went from curiosity to confusion. It was not odd for his Father to give him gifts, but to send a royal guard to get him out of bed for one was extremely irregular. “You were not the only thing we recovered from Westworth,” the King continued.

    Now Christopher was even more confused. “There’s someone else?” He blurted out.

    “No,” his Father replied. “This is an item, not a person.”

    Christopher’s confusion waned. “What is it?” He asked.

    “It is this.” The King held out his hand. In his palm sat a gold ring with a sapphire embedded into the top. “I was planning on waiting until your eighteenth birthday to give this to you, but I felt I should do it today.”

    Christopher took the ring and examined it. The odd thing about it was it seemed to get darker in the light. Seeing his uncertainty, the King said, “It is endued with magic. No harm will come to you as long as you are wearing it.” He paused, “and yes, it was your father’s.”

    “That must be why it looks familiar,” Christopher told him, studying the object carefully.

    “As you know, he was entrusted with protecting Westworth and the Moral Mountains, and this is how he did it. As long as he was wearing it, it protected not only him but also the whole city. Someone must have convinced him to take it off the night of the attack…”

    “And that’s why the whole town was leveled,” Christopher finished for him. “Because my father failed…” his voice trailed off.

    The King allowed his son a moment of reflection before continuing. “The ring has lost some of its former power, but it will do well for protecting you.” Christopher put the ring on and felt it in his chest. He vowed never to take it off. “Now, hurry and get dressed. Cynthia is waiting for you to start your rounds.”

    Cynthia was Christopher’s personal bodyguard. Showing much promise when she had been training for the royal guard, she was assigned to Christopher when the King recursed him from Westworth. Both being around the age of seventeen, they were friends, but there had always been something Christopher found off-putting about her. He suspected it may be something with elvish culture. Like most elves, she had long straight blonde hair and pointed ears, and although short by elvish standards, she almost measured up to Christopher’s hundred eighty centimeters.

    When the prince reached his room, he threw on his day clothes and fixed up his hair. As he did so, he let the cold ring rest against his scalp. He brought his hand down in front of his face and admired it for a few seconds then got to work.

    Christopher’s rounds consisted of walking around the castle and making sure everything was in order and functioning normally, along with assisting people who were in need. When he was younger, he often failed to understand why he was required to walk around and make sure everything was running smoothly; couldn’t one of the royal guard members do this? But after complaining to his Father about it, he told Christopher the reason why. Doing this allowed him to build relationships with his citizens and made them feel the crown was more approachable. Since then, he had been trying to push into the purpose.

    “Finally!” Cynthia called jokingly as he walked up to where she had been waiting. “Sleepyhead!”

    There is was; that little thing that annoyed Christopher. “Sorry, my Father was giving me this,” he said holding out his hand to display the ring. She admired it while he continued, “It was also recovered from Westworth. It belonged to my old father.”

    “It’s very nice,” she told him. Christopher intentionally didn’t mention its power. Cynthia didn’t need to know.

    After a few more seconds, Christopher put his arm down. “Alright, let’s do this.”

    So they began their rounds. It was a warm clear day; everyone seemed to be happy and focused on their tasks. The baker was singing a jolly tune, the smelter laughing with his assistance while he hammered away. Christopher held a few short conversations with some people today, but it was definitely less than normal.

    He walked up to the arcane training room and saw something. Who is that? He wondered, noticing a curly blonde haired girl. She was standing at a table near the far end of the room, studying an old book. Peaking his head in the room, he found that she was the only one there. He decided to go for it, leaving Cynthia at the door.

    Walking up to her, he tried to see what she was reading; or just tried to keep his eyes off her. Before he could get a clear image of the title, she saw him. “Oh, Prince Christopher! I am Christina, your humble servant,” she said as she knelt to bow.

    “Don’t do that,” he replied a bit too harshly and bit his tongue.

    “I’m sorry, your Highness.” As she spoke, she held her head low, but kept looking up, flickering her eyes at him; no doubt trying to get a good look at him, but not wanting to maintain eye contact.

    “Hey, it's okay,” he paused and just looked at her. She was small, fit and far more beautiful up close than at a distance, especially when she relaxed some. Snapping out of it, he remembered: “What are you reading?”

    “Oh, it’s nothing… I’m trying to figure out how to harmonize two dissimilar crystals; well an emerald and a diamond more specifically. I mean I know it's possible, Cedric the Great did it a long time ago. I’m trying to replicate his experiment you see, but his notes aren’t very clear. He was half insane, actually… sorry, I’m rambling.” She finished with both arms grasping the book in front of her, as one leg left the floor.

    So she’s pretty and smart, Christopher thought. They just looked at each other for a handful of seconds. “Christopher!” Cynthia called from the doorway. Christina’s eyes darted in the direction of the noise.

    “Don’t worry about—”

    “Christopher!” The King’s voice called.

    Christopher winced. “Got to go,” he said and smiled, a little embarrassed.

    “I understand. You go,” she told him, as she smiled back. He turned to catch up with the King. She remained, watching him as he went.

    “What is it?” Christopher said once he was jogging beside Cynthia and his Father.

    “It appears Cormac has returned. He was the best Court Wizard this kingdom had ever known, but he disappeared over seven years ago…” his voice trailed off for a moment. “Shortly before I found you.” Together, the trio ran outside to meet Cormac, who was wailing unintelligibly.

3: The Mission

    With much struggle, they got the man inside the infirmary. The King and Christopher stood before his bed, while healers attended to his wounds. Cormac was a skinny sliver of a man, muscles all shriveled up and nearly every bone in his body clearly visible through his flabby skin. He reeked of fire and death. This man was dying, Christopher knew. Still, there was something familiar about him. The healers managed to calm him down enough that he was no longer continually moaning, then told the King that he could begin questioning the wizard. He did so, “Who did this to you?”

    “It was a spirit I tell you,” Cormac replied, the madness clearly evident in his eyes.

    “What was the spirit’s name?” The King asked firmly.

    Fear. That was all the man could express. He opened his quivering mouth as if to speak, but just then a screeching roar came booming through the castle. Now they all expressed fear to varying degrees. Cormac’s face as white as the snow covering the peaks of the Moral Mountains, Christopher’s heart was racing, the King looking around. Christopher’s hand automatically went to his side where his sword rested. Cormac’s eyes followed, and he saw a dagger sheathed just below the sword.

    “Never again, Caesar,” Cormac whispered as he reached out and pulled the dagger from Christopher’s tunic and drove it into his chest.

    “Cormac…” Christopher said glumly.

    The King watched with saddened acceptance. He put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “Christopher, that sound was a dragon.” The young man looked at his Father, then began noticing the healers frantically running around, trying to move patients away from the outer wall. “Go, assist the guard,” the King went on.

    Only when Christopher left the infirmary did the words his Father had spoken to him sink in. A dragon. Could it be the dragon? The one that destroyed his entire village, killed his parents and all his friends? Oh, how he’d love to slay the beast. He ran to the main entrance of the castle, noticing how furiously the royal guard organized to eliminate the threat. The prince ran across the courtyard, but as soon as he reached the nearest member of the royal guard, the dragon was already flying away. Is it afraid of me? For a moment, Christopher had a surge of pride; but that moment was cut short when he looked more closely at the beast. It had something it is hind claw.

    “What did it get off with?” Christopher demand of the nearest guard member.

    “Your Highness,” the man gave a slight bow, “I am not absolute in my certainty, however, I do believe it was one of the arcane trainees.”

    Christopher’s eyes narrowed. Sternly he asked, “What trainee?”

    “What is going on here?” The King’s voice called. Both sets of eyes flashed towards the direction of the voice. The guard member dropped to one knee; Christopher remained standing.

    After a short moment of silence, the prince spoke up, “He was just about to explain that to me.”

    “Rise,” the King said to the member of the guard. He did so. “Tell me,” He continued in a soft voice, “what happened?”

    “Your majesty,” he replied, “I was in the north watchtower looking out across the land. I see a black speck out in the sky. It appeared to be getting closer to the castle, so I called to my partner to see what she could make out. She peered out and could confirm it was indeed getting closer. She told me she would get ready to sound the alarm, and began walking towards it. I looked back at the speck, which I could now make out as a dragon. I yelled at my partner to hurry, as the situation was growing increasingly urgent. She broke out into a run, but before she could reach it, the dragon threw a ball of fire out at her and she was consumed by it. What happened after that was a blur, but the dragon continued to rain destruction down upon the castle. We thought we were all going to die, but before long, one of the newest arcane trainees came out and started fighting it with more strength than I had seen any of the arcane use. The dragon saw her, then swooped in and picked her up, then left us.”

    During the telling of the story, the King’s face had grown somber. “Christina was the trainee; blonde hair, very athletic?”

    “Yes, that was her.” At this point, all Christopher could feel was fury. Fury. How could he have let this happen?

    “My son,” the King said as He turned to him. Christopher’s eyes darted towards his Father’s. “You must go rescue her. She is more powerful than any who have come before her. There is something more at work here. I know it.”

    “I will go, Father. But won’t You come with me?”

    “I cannot,” He replied. “I must remain here and see to the care of the people. This is your battle to fight. Take Cynthia with you; she will be a great help to you on this journey.” He turned to the guard member and said, “What way did the dragon go?”

    “North, towards the Moral Mountains,” the guard responded.

    Turning back to His son, the King said, “You should leave immediately. Time is of the utmost importance.”

    “I will, Father.”

    Christopher did so. He ran over to the royal stable and began preparing his horse. Before he had gotten too far, he heard a voice behind him; “This is exciting.” It was Cynthia.

    He half-rolled his eyes then said, “It’s only a day ride to the Moral Mountains, and when we’re there it won’t be easy. And it’s not exciting, it’s important.”

    “Okay, whatever,” she replied. “I got the food and shelter if we need it.”

    “We shouldn’t,” Christopher said a bit harshly. “Are you ready to head out?”

    “I am.”

    “Prepare your horse. We’re about to leave.” She did so. Once both horses were ready, they left the burning castle in pursuit of the beast.

4: The Journey

    Christopher and Cynthia rode hard northeast for several hours through the Prolific Plains and eventually reached Crosspoint, which sits at the intersection of the Prolific Plains, Woebegone Woods and Somber Swamp. Once they got through Crosspoint, the road through the Woebegone Woods started heading straight north, putting them on a more direct path towards the Moral Mountains.

    After riding in the Woebegone Woods for about an hour, they reached a crossroad. Christopher noticed his horses were getting tired, so he took the leftmost path towards the Restless River, so they could drink and rest for a bit.

    “We’re making good time,” Cynthia said into the silence as the horses trotted through some mud at the bank of the river.

    “I guess you could say that, but we need to keep moving,” Christopher responded as their horses dipped their mouths into the river and began drinking. He noticed the water had recently been much higher, which was reasonable since it was late spring. Before he knew it he had closed his eyes. He must have been tired. Riding as hard as he had been would do a number on anyone. He suddenly felt an odd sensation on the toes of his right foot; it felt thick and wet.

    “Christopher!” Cynthia screamed. His eyes shot open and saw his horse was half-buried in the mud. He came to his senses. Looking over, he watched Cynthia use her elvish athleticism to leap off her horse onto safety. He tried to do the same. Tearing his food from the mud that threatened to consume it, he tried to balance on his struggling horse. Cynthia prepared herself for his jump. Christopher bent down and pushed off the horse with all his strength, but his ascent was cut short by something wrapped around his leg. He fell face-first into the mud. He started desperately trying to get out, but Cynthia cried out telling him to stop moving. He did so and felt his body slowly descend into the deep.

    From his one eye that remained above the mud, he witnessed Cynthia jump from her point of safety onto his horse, pull out a small knife from her boot and cut the bridle off his horse. By this point, his eye had sunk before the surface, along with his nose and mouth, so he could no longer breathe. From what Christopher could hear, Cynthia seemed to struggle some more on the horse, then leaped back to dry land. At least she made it, he thought, then he felt something tugging on his leg. Cynthia used the bridle to pull him out of the mud and back onto safety.

    Cynthia knelt beside him and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked the prince.

    “Yeah,” Christopher resounded with a hit of annoyed sarcasm, “Fine. Just fine.” He stood up and looked in the direction of the river. They both stood there and watched their horses struggle as they sank below the earth.

    Cynthia, knowing Christopher would be angry, remained silent. “I guess we’re walking,” he said in a flat tone, then turned around and began walking up the path. Cynthia followed behind him.

    Fulled by his anger, Christopher pressed on. They trekked through the Woebegone Woods for several more hours, both of them growing hungry as their food had been swallowed along with the horses. Although they had been primarily traveling uphill, the ascents slowly began increasing in regularity and intensity. The trees became less dense, and the air grew thinner and more clear; Christopher knew they were getting close.

    Suddenly short of breath, the prince spoke to his partner. “Let’s rest here a moment.” He walked over to a larger rock just off the path. Cynthia looked at him, then squatted down in the middle of the path. Christopher buried his face in his hands.

    A few moments of silent rest passed by. “Christopher?” Cynthia asked into his peace. He unearthed his face and looked at with a gaze that said What now? which was immediately followed by a sharp sting in his right leg. He gave a cry of pain which shocked Cynthia, then he looked down at his leg. A larger black snake had attached itself there. He stood up in a flash and shook his leg until the snake flew off somewhere into the forest.

    “I’ll kill that snake!” Christopher screamed as he drew his sword and headed in the direction the snake flew.

    “Christopher! Wait!” Cynthia put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him around to look at her. “I need to suck the poison from your leg.”

    His fury at her burned. For a split second, he thought about taking his sword and driving it straight through her heart. He knew she was right, but he wanted to kill the thing that wounded him. He held his gaze with her for a few more seconds, feeling the beat of his heart in his ear, knowing the poison was on its way there. “Okay,” he relented. Maybe she’ll die from the poison, he thought, knowing elves were more venerable to snake venom.

    She knelt before him, almost as if to bow, then put her mouth on his wound, and began sucking the blood and venom from his body. This process went on for a hand full of minutes, with a lot of blood spat on the ground and then more sucked from the wound. Christopher could tell she was feeling the impact of the toxin, as her skin slowly faded from light tan to an almost snow white.

    Cynthia spit out one last mouthful of blood, then began violently coughing. She lay on the ground, as her body started to fight off the foreign fluid. At this point, the sun had sunk low and what shadows they had through the trees were now long. “Let’s rest here for tonight,” Cynthia said in a weak voice.

    Christopher laid down on the opposite side of the path from Cynthia, who was fast asleep. He lay there awake from what felt like an eternity, keeping his eyes fixated on his elven friend. She nearly died for me kept running through his head. This quest had been taxing, that he knew. He hoped tomorrow they would find this dragon and rescue Christina. As his mind turned to thoughts of her, he relaxed a little and drifted off to sleep.

5: The Cost

    He awoke the next morning to the sun staring him in the eye. Cynthia was already up cooking some kind of meat over a little fire. “What is that?” he asked as the smell floated to his nose.

    “Its rabbit and squirrel,” she replied happily. “I heard a couple of them earlier this morning and went hunting. They’re just about done.”

    “Good, because I’m hungry.” She gave him a small smile and continued to work in silence. A few moments later, they ate. Of the four animals she cooked, Cynthia ate only half of one. She knew Christopher would want to eat more food than they had altogether, so she let him eat the other half of hers. Although she was famished, Christopher didn’t notice.

    After they ate, they packed up their few remaining belongings then headed out. They walked in near-complete silence along the path to the Moral Mountains. The landscape changed from dense forest to rugged mountains. Their pace slowed significantly when the path began slopping upwards. Considering the journey thus far, Christopher noted that they had gone nearly the entire day without any misfortunate event occurring.

    “The sun’s beginning to set,” Cynthia observed, speaking into Christopher’s thoughts and breaking the long silence.

    Christopher looked up at the darkening sky. “Yes it is,” he agreed.

    “See that relatively flat area just across that bridge?” Christopher looked where she was pointing. “We could camp there for the night.” He agreed, so they went for it.

    Several minutes later, they reach the bridge. Christopher began examining its condition to determine if it was in good enough condition to travel across. “It will hold you,” a voice came from beside him. Christopher shot up, hand darting to where his sword hung. Cynthia gasped. Before them hung a black mist.

    “Who are you?” Christopher demanded.

    “Who I am is not any of our concern, and I already know who you are, Prince Christopher,” the mist replied. “What is our concern is my purpose.”

    “Which is?” Christopher replied haughtily.

    “I am the Protector of the Moral Mountains, and if you wish to enter, you must pay the price.”

    “Name your price and my Father will give you double.”

    Something of a laugh came from the mist. “Oh, you little fool. I do not want your Father’s money. I require something of you.”

    Christopher’s posture changed. He slumped forwards ever so slightly. “What do you want from me?” He asked.

    “That depends on why you wish to enter the Moral Mountains. The greater the undertaking, the higher the price. So, why are you here?” Christopher thought for a second, then opened his mouth to speak. “And don’t bother lying to me, for if you do, I will see to it that you never enter the Moral Mountains.”

    Christopher relented. He proceeded to tell the mist about Christina, and how the dragon had taken her and was living in the Moral Mountains, and the journey he and Cynthia had taken, and the hardships they had endured.

    The mist seemed to contemplate for a moment, then finally it said, “Love. The greatest gift. There is only one price worthy of such a high undertaking.” It paused and looked at Cynthia, “and that is a lover.”

    Christopher was stunned. “What?” was all he could say. Cynthia stared directly at the mist, tears welling up in her eyes. Christopher had never seen her cry before. He stood in stunned silence as her lip began to quiver and she started weeping.

    “So, what is your decision? Are you willing to pay the price?” The voice came from the mist. Cynthia walked up to it. Christopher told his arm to reach out after her, but it refused.

    “I accept,” Cynthia said.

    “Any last words?” The mist asked knowingly.

    Slowly, Cynthia turned to Christopher and looked him in the eye one last time. “I love you,” she told him thought tears. The mist leaped up and consumed her, then immediately shot back and flew away.

    At that moment, Christopher gave an elongated yell: “No! Cynthia!” A desperate howl that echoed off the mountainsides and could be heard for miles. He fell to the ground, face in the dirt and wept and wept and wept, until sleep finally took him.

6: The Battle

    He awoke. His face still in the dirt. The cold penetrated his clothes, skin and muscles into the deepest bowels of his bones and soul. Or… no, the coldness in his soul was also the cause of his tear-stained face. Cynthia was dead.

    He sat up; then fell back down again. The pain was too great to bear. The true summation of his life’s weight fell upon like a collapsing tower. Laying on that mountain, while the temperature began to fall like the snow, Christopher realized something: every man must face his wound; he did so that night. He realized he was the cause of Cynthia’s death. She loved him all along, sacrificing for him at every opportunity she could. She pulled him off the horse and out of the quicksand, although that presented danger to herself. She subjected herself to the snake’s poison to save him, even though he knew as an elf, she was more susceptible to the venom. What’s more, she stopped him from chasing the snake through the forest in a vain attempt to kill it, while all that would have accomplished would have been driving the poison to his heart more quickly. She allowed him to fill his belly while the starvation was clearly visible on her face. And above it all, she loved him so much that she gave herself up so that he could have another woman. She had truly loved him, actionably. He didn’t realize how much he cared for her until after she was gone.

    Then came the second wave; a memory long since forgotten. The night before his boyhood town was leveled, a man approached him. He now remembered it was Cormac the Wizard, only with an evil in his eyes. He told the young Christopher he wanted to buy his father’s ring, and all he had to do was take it from him that night, and bring it to him the next day. He gave Christopher some gold coins that night and promised him more the following day only if he would take the ring from his father. He waited until his father went to sleep, then snuck in his room and pulled the ring off his finger. Christopher slept with it that night, and that was why he survived and no one else did. In a twisted form of justice, the one person who deserved to die was the sole survivor. The shock of the attack mixed with the intense guilt of what he had done pushed the memory far from his mind, but now it all came back in a flood.

    This memory pierced him deeply. It cut his heart wide open. He counted his whole life and the entirety of his contribution not worth the pain of suffering he had already caused. Although the night was black and his vision had nearly faded to nothingness, he could still see the ring, shining like the full moon on a cloudless night. He tore it off his finger and threw it down the mountainside, it’s emanating light clear for miles as it fell.

    He sobbed. Grief consumed him. He felt completely devoid of all life. He craved death, yet it refused to come. Then, piercing his sadness like the sun cutting through a thick cloud, he heard his Father’s voice: “Christopher, my true son, you are forgiven. Now, be healed.” Immediately his heart melted as his spirit released the weight of all his pain. At that moment, he was healed. He collapsed again, not from pain this time but exhaustion. Shortly thereafter, he fell fast asleep.

    The next morning he woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the sun glowing brightly, warming his frozen body. With the spiritual battle over and won, it was time to face the physical one. He stood up with a renewed fury. Pulling his sword out and fastened his shield to his forearm, he pressed forward, crossing the bridge and entering the Moral Mountains.

    After a few short hours of walking, Christopher reached the apex of the mountain. He saw atop it was a rugged fortress, and knew that’s where he needed to go. He headed up to the entrance and had a look inside.

    And there she was. Christina. Except it wasn’t her. Even calling it that didn’t feel right. It was her body, but her fair skin and blonde hair that had been so perfect that day long ago were now almost grey. Her thinned frame clearly visible though her tattered and torn clothing. There was dust and debris in her hair, and dirt, cuts and bruises on her body. It looked back at him, and began to laugh; a hideous sound. It was like her voice, but deeper and corrupted, load and booming, twisted and cruel. But suddenly, her eyes grew wide and a blackness left her chest. She fell to the ground. The blackness floated over to something laying on the rocky floor. Christopher ran over to Christina and knelt beside her. She pointed a thin finger in the direction the blackness had gone. He looked in that direction and saw a huge body, nearly twenty feet long laying on the edge of the fortress. Then he felt the temperature drop several degrees in seconds; the hair on his arms stood straighter than the towers of the King’s castle; goosebumps covered every inch of his skin. A strong wind came from behind and encircled the body. The clouds above them began following the path of the wind and danced around a point directly above the giant’s chest. A bolt of lightning shot from a cloud and struck the exact point the blackness entered the body. Then he heard the dragon roar. He looked up and saw it flying circularly around the fortress, using the wind to gain momentum. It gave another roar, only this one sounded worried. Suddenly, the Goliath reached up its massive left hand snatching the dragon out of the sky. It drove the beast into the stone ground, then took its right hand and gave the dragon’s head one savage blow, completely crushing the great beast’s skull.

    Christopher watched the giant remove its fist from the head of the dragon, dragon’s blood burning the hand. It stood up and spoke to him, “I am Caesar the Absolute, Ruler of the Nameless North, and sworn enemy of the Good King. Bow down before me, and I may yet spare you.”

    The man Christopher shot back with his own identity: “I am Christopher, son of Cole, true son of the Good King, prince of Amara, lone survivor of Westworth, and your doom!”

    The true beast– Caesar– frowned as he drew his face back. “Very well,” he responded, “then prepare to die.”

    Christopher prepared for battle. He drew out his sword and strengthened his stance. The beast drew up a mighty fist and drove it towards the ground where Christopher was standing. Christopher bolted out of the way at the last second, then he took a swing at the giant’s fist. His sword was simply deflected off and hit the ground. All the while, Caesar was laughing. This went on for a short time; another blow, another dodge. Christopher knew eventually his strength would fail him and Caesar’s fist would plummet right on top of him. He needed a new idea.

    Suddenly, from behind him, Christopher head a voice speaking the old dead language of magic. “Soo vann ka lo stra phe knoo!” Christina was on her feet, twisting and curving her ringed fingers to form a spell. Christopher could tell it was taking all her strength. Once Christina’s spell complete, she threw it at Caesar and held it there. “The neck!” She said in a strained voice. “He’s weak in the neck!”

    Christopher knew what he had to do. He ran up to the beast, then jumped and swung his sword to cut off the giant’s head. Falling short of a complete decapitation, he managed to slit the massive being’s throat. When his blade penetrated the skin, light shoot out from the wound, then Caesar’s body exploded, knocking Christopher to the ground.

7: The End

    He awoke. Dazed from the battle, he picked himself up off the ground. Christina, was the first thought that went through is head. He ran over to her and gently picked her up and held her in his arms. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “You recused me,” she told him.

    “I did.” Then the man began carrying the woman back to the castle.

    As he walked, she told him of Caesar… “After the dragon picked me up, he brought me to Caesar’s layer, which was where you found me. The dragon set me down then began to fly away. I heard a noise behind me then Caesar’s spirit possessed me.”

    “How does that work?” Christopher interjected.

    “It’s only possible if you attempt to break the rules of magic, which of course he did. Once his spirit was inside my body, I was no longer in control, and I had all Caesar’s memories. I fought endlessly for control over my body again, but Caesar’s will was too relentless. He was bent on killing the King and destroying everything good in the land. Long ago, he warred against the King and lost, body destroyed and soul banished to the Nameless North.” Christopher starred off into the distance as Christina recounted this story from the deep past. “He swore he would have his revenge, and for years, he wandered from being to being, attempting to find someone powerful enough to kill the King. Eventually, he knew there was no being powerful enough to accomplish his purpose, so he decided to create his own soulless body.”

    “That’s wrong. I know that’s wrong. That’s one of the ways mages defile themselves.”

    Some of Christina’s joy seemed to be sucked from her face. “Yes, you are correct,” she told him with some sadness.

    There was a moment of silence. “Please, continue,” Christopher said.

    “So Caesar sent one of his trawls to lie to Cormac, convincing him to wander  into the Nameless North, where Caesar possessed him. He then used Cormac to create most of the body, but after seven years, the man was growing old and could not complete it. So he sent his dragon to get me and…” her voice trailed off as she began to cry.

    “… And you finished it for him.” Christopher finished for her.

    “Yes,” she said softly through tears, shaking her head.

    “I see,” Christopher replied solemnly, and they walked in silence for a while.

    “So,” Christina started, wiping the last tears from her eyes. “What’s your story?”

    Christopher stopped, still holding her in his arms. He was standing at the bridge that marked the end of the Moral Mountains and the path into the Woebegone Woods. “Cynthia died here.”

    Again, the sun was beginning to set, so at Christina’s suggestion, they made camp there. Christopher told Christina of the trials he went through to get to her, including losing the horses, being bitten by a snake, and ultimately, Cynthia’s death. The beauty of the woman’s face ministered to the broken man’s pain.

    They slept, and the next morning, Christina used magic to allow them to run continually back to the castle. Once in sight of it, Christopher saw it was already nearly repaired. “The prince has returned” rang throughout the City.

    Once safe inside the castle, Christina confronted the King. “Oh King!” She bowed down before him, face to the ground. “I have done horribly wicked things, broken magical law and defiled myself. I no longer deserve to be in your courts.”

    “My darling Christina,” the King said, “I know all that you have done. And long ago I chose to forgive you of what you did. Past, present and future.”

    She looked up, face full of tears. “Thank you,” was all she could say. The King, looking down at her, was smiling richly.

    So the next day, the kingdom rejoiced as the largest wedding ceremony in a lifetime commenced. Christina smiled all day, and Christopher was happy… and every time he awoke thereafter, she was by his side.