Beginning of end

Simone's scream died in her throat. She instinctively curled into Shayn, who slowly stood and raised his sword.

The dragon's eyes weren't on them yet, but it could hardly fail to see them with its head less than a stone's throw from where they'd landed.

It was a miracle they hadn't been crushed by its weighty form.

Riley's body was close enough to reach out and touch the monster's obsidian scales–if he were still alive.

Simone looked at Shayn, and her heart broke for him. He'd lost two brothers today.

His sword was tilted in a defensive stance, and he pulled her up to stand behind him. She had a sword of her own, but far less talent and experience with using it.

Her eyes drifted across the slowly rising bulk of the dark Dragon. It was far more enormous than it had looked while in the sky–and it hadn't looked small, then. It stretched far enough to have crushed city blocks beneath its body, had there been any left standing. 

Simone stayed as still as she could behind Shayn.

Neither of them stood a chance against the Dragon, if it decided to look at them. They were ants compared to its power and strength.

And yet, the warriors of light and the fiery Fae wasted not a moment in mounting a vicious attack on the fallen monster. With cries of war they plunged into the fray, fruitlessly striking at the impossibly hard scales.

Pushing up onto its elbows, then its massive claws, the dragon let out an infuriated bellow. As it rose to its back feet and spread ominous black wings, it shook off the tiny creatures foolish enough to brave its wrath.

However, as it stood, a gaping, ugly wound that could only have been inflicted by the Sorcerer's mighty blade became visible on its underside. 

Darkness like smoke spewed out of it, and followers of the Sorcerer streamed towards the it, all eager to help their creator snuff out the life of this most evil of beings.

Shayn hesitated only a second, then squeezed Simone's hand before letting go and joining the charge.

"Stay here, stay safe," He pressed the words to her ear before lunging forward. For once, she listened, too stunned to do anything else. 

Fighting side by side with a warrior of light, Shayn tore through the minions of Darkness coming to their master's defense.

The death cries of Beast echoed and warbled through the eerie light before finally giving way.

The forces of evil were finally losing. Simone cheered as the Dragon was brought to its knees. The figure of light descended from his place in the sky with a final blow to the enemy.

The Void snarled, its rage vacillating on the wind as smoke continued to pour from its mortal wound, but it was pinned.

Simone was elated, and terrified, and aghast at the sights of the battle being finally won.

"Did we do it?" She whispered to herself? "Did we win?"

She took a step forward, trying to find Shayn amidst the mounting chaos of the final stages of the conflict.

"Ouch!" She flinched and looked down at her foot, which suddenly hurt terribly. The disgusting corpse of a goblin lay across her path. Its broken sword had just pierced the sole of her shoe.

Her eyes widened. She'd read about goblin poison. There wasn't much time.

She grabbed at her water skin, but it was utterly empty. Panic began to mount, but she tamped it down. Just because the goblins' blades had been poisoned in the last war did not mean they absolutely were this time around.

Although the likelihood that they had abandoned its use seemed slim. 

Delicately, hesitantly, she lifted her foot. Blood was trickling out of a gash in her shoe, and she grimaced. It had definitely gone through her skin, then. Not that she'd had much doubt from the sting of pain sizzling up her leg.

She glanced around and moved to sit on one of the few clear places on the corpse-littered earth. The stones were broken and filthy but at least she wasn't touching anything dead. She had no nursing skills whatsoever, but she removed her shoe gingerly to examine the wound.

It wasn't terribly large, and it was hard to see well. It was also nearly impossible to concentrate through the sounds of war around her. The occupants of all the worlds battling in a final confrontation was anything but peaceful and quiet.

Simone's eyes watered. She wanted her library. She wanted her nice quiet adventures where people were scolded for speaking above a whisper. Her personal little nook where she could read into the late hours with a candle and not be disturbed by so much as the squeak of a mouse. The near-perfect silence of solitude, where your own breathing and the wild beating of your adventurous heart were the loudest noises in the vicinity.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she blocked out everything as she tried to concentrate. She ripped the cleanest fabric she could–a piece of her sleeve–and dabbed at the cut.

The cloth came away green, and she blanched.

The color of goblins' poison.

How long had it been? The doctors had varying estimates on how long it was from infection to death, but none of those estimates were longer than a few minutes.

And she was far smaller than the average soldier found on a battlefield; the poison might spread in her much faster.

"Shayn," Her voice came as a whisper, but she cleared her throat and shouted, "SHAYN!"

He could not hear her. The battle raged, the lives and deaths of thousands hanging by a thread every second.

And hers coming to an inevitable close unless something changed, and fast.

"Gwen," She tried the name on her tongue, though it was feeling swollen and strange. "Any of the Fae, please help me. I know you're helpers. I need help now. Please."

Nothing materialized, and she laid back on the ground as her head spun and the world tilted. 

"Help me, anybody."

___

Roland sat up, bewildered at being in his wife's arms.

"Serafina?"

"I'm here," She smiled.

"My mother is, too," He looked around, but strangely, they seemed to be inside. How could that be? Klain was in ruins!

No, not inside, he realized belatedly. A sort of semi-dome surrounded them on all sides, but the roof was open. Inside the strange little alcove were only his wife and three children.

He blinked, and smiled. They were safe. They were all safe!

"Is it over?" He asked, but a screech of fury told him it was not quite so. Still, it seemed quieter than when he was conscious before. Or maybe his hearing had become damaged? "Roen, please take down a wall and let me see."

"It's dangerous out there, Papa," Roen looked to his mother for permission, and to Roland's profound relief, she nodded. Roen put a hand to the ground and part of the wall fell away.

The king gasped. The Dragon was on the ground, being overrun by the red, fiery figures of the Fae, by white, shining warriors, and the Sorcerer himself was descending in a cloud of light to finish off the nearly defeated creature. A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"It's almost over," He breathed, but he did not relax. He looked quickly around, wondering where his mother had gone. And Haf, and his father, and Aunt Betty. And Caspian.

The latter, he found soonest, and alarm gripped him. He struggled to his knees despite his wife's protests and crawled towards his prone cousin.

"Cas… Cas!" He cried to the one-eyed man on the ground. He'd been wounded in the last war, severely. For the sake of justice, he should have made it through this one unscathed! Especially since he had a fresh brood of adopted children to raise with sweet Naomi.

"He's breathing, but barely," Victoria looked at her older brother with serious eyes. "I cannot do anything more, do you have any suggestions?"

Roland's mind raced. His days as a doctor's apprentice were so far behind him, it would have been comical for Victoria to ask him this question in any but the most dire of circumstances.

His eyes scanned his cousin. Victoria's hands pressed on a gaping wound, trying to hold it shut.

"Do we have a surgical kit?" Roland asked dazedly. The bleeding was spurting, indicating an arterial wound that would need to be surgically treated. He spotted Gabriel nearby, fighting for the lives of the little group. 

"No," Victoria swallowed. "I have nothing that could help with this."

Roland looked down in frustration but nodded. A nurse assisted in surgery, but did not usually have any responsibility to carry those kinds of supplies with her. She could not do anything like that by herself.

"You've done well," He smiled at her, but it was not as warm as he wanted it to be. There was too much worry in his heart. He ran a hand down his face and Victoria looked at him with grieving eyes.

"I wish I could have done more," She whispered.