“Slate!” Nya shouted, helping lower the dragon king to the ground. She bent down next to him, not sure what to do. The arrow still protruded from his chest, near his heart, and the blood was spreading quickly. Staring into his eyes, she thought about the Heart of Magic. “Can’t the stone save you?” she asked. “Can’t you call upon the power from the Heart of Magic to heal you?”
Slate looked at the arrow like it was a pesky insect only there to annoy him. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow and pulled it straight out with a grunt, letting it go as even more blood gushed from the wound. Shaking his head, he said, “I cannot do that, Nya.”
Her eyes widened as the last chance she could think of to save him began to slip from her fingers. “What do you mean? It contains all of the power in the universe! Surely, it can heal a wound from an arrow!”
Slate shook his head. In the distance, Nya heard Flint calling his brother’s name, begging him to hang on as he fought to make sure the area was secure so he could run to his side. There were a few more Beelzanborg troops that needed to be dealt with, and Flint was using his sword and knife to cut them down. Nya returned her eyes to Slate. “I do not control the magic, love. You do.”
“What?” Nya questioned, her eyes widening. “No. I transferred the power to you. I put the stone in your chest, like you said. It belongs to you now.”
Again, he shook his head, though it was obvious his strength was fading as he didn’t move nearly as much now as he had before. “No, love. You touched the stone last. The power belongs to you. Until it touches my hand, the power is yours. The chest will only keep it safe.”
She’d had no idea. All this time, she could’ve been using the magic. They hadn’t even needed it to defeat the Beelzanborg army, now that the dragons could fly. Her eyes focused on Slate, then, and knowing that she loved him, that she wanted to save him, even if he chose to be with the princess of Handor instead of her, she said, “What do I do?”
A crooked grin spread across his face, and Slate said, “Command the magic, Nya. Feel it.”
Nya closed her eyes, wondering why she hadn’t seen this scene ever before, and put her hand over the wound. “Heart of Magic,” she whispered, “I command you to heal this wound. Heal this man, and make him whole again.”
Immediately, she felt the power pulsing through her, stronger now than it ever had before. It flowed from her fingers into Slate’s chest, and he closed his eyes as a warmth embraced both of them, a circling breeze like the hottest of summer days engulfing them and sweeping them up into the air. Nya opened her eyes for a second to see a warm, red light spinning around them before they were both gently lowered back to the castle rooftop.
Once the magic around them dissipated, Nya watched as Slate sat up on his forearms, but she wasn’t ready to let him get up completely. “Are you well?” she asked, staring into his eyes.
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine now, thank you,” he said. His hand came up to the back of her head, and when he pulled her to him, Nya lowered her head, and their lips met. The kiss was just as warm as the magical breeze, and it made Nya feel just as tingly and alive.
Slate released her. “Nya, you have to know, I don’t intend to marry the princess of Handor. I told her father no some time ago. The only princess I intend to be with, ever again, is you.”
Nya felt her face flush, and a large smile spread across her face when she realized what he was saying. “You want to be with me?” she asked.
Slate sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “Yes, Nya. I love you. I want you to be my queen. Will you rule with me?”
A rush of joy washed over her as Nya nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. I love you, too.”
Slate’s arms around her were a safe haven in the midst of a battlefield. Their lips met again, and she ran her hand along the smooth skin of his face, He tasted of smoke and heat in the best way, and Nya had no doubt in her mind the two of them would be together forever. She didn’t need a sixth sense or a third eye to see that.
“Hey! Are the two of you going to help us kill the rest of these Beelzanborg assholes or keep playing kissy face?” Flint asked from just a few feet away.
Realizing he was right, and they had work to do, Nya hopped to her feet, offering Slate her hand. His shirt was still torn and bloody where the arrow had pierced him, but other than that, it was clear he’d made a full recovery. Both of them pulled their swords and moved to finish rounding up the last of the evil soldiers who had taken so much from the dragons all of those years ago. Today was a day of reckoning, when they would pay for their crimes, and Nya was proud to be a part of it, fighting alongside the man she loved, who just happened to be the dragon king.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the Beelzanborg troops to be collected, and when the King of Beelzanborg was located, hiding in the dungeon, pretending to be a prisoner, Slate dealt with the bastard himself. “Take him back to the lair and put him in our dungeon, Flint. Then, he’ll find out what it’s like to be a prisoner.”
“Gladly,” Slate’s brother said. With his hands bound, the king stood trembling on the grounds outside of the castle, his clothes dirty from the time he spent beneath the castle. Flint shifted into his dragon form and latched his talons around the king as he took off, into the sky, holding onto the screeching King of Beelzanborg with his claws as he began the long trip back to the dragon’s homeland, a trip that was sure to be full of terror for the dangling human.
Turning to one of his other warriors, Slate said, “Blade, I put you in charge here. I have another king I need to pay a visit to.”
He turned to Nya and looked her in the eyes, and she nodded, knowing exactly where they were headed next. Slate shifted, and she climbed up on his back, settling between his wings, her hands on his neck and her legs squeezing tight as he took to the sky. She was going home.