If you’re wondering how did this story begin…

Chapter 1

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Chapter 11: The last wish

“We’re too late, snake! They took them! My Frogling and Uli! We’re too late!” Marcian cried, ripping his own hair.

 Both of them were walking in the garden, when the Wolfling and the Autumnian soldiers attacked the castle. The Thilian guards fell easily, they were not trained for such a ruthless strike as this. 

Marci and Magnush fought with all their might, they were bruised and battered. 

The two were covered in blood, both the soldiers and their own. 

“My Frogling and Uli will be long dead before we reach them in the Autumna castle!” Marcian howled.

“Be quiet, Autumnian! There must be a way…” Magnush scolded him.

A Crane bird landed in front of them and turned into a woman. 

“You’re a Birdling! We must beg you to help us!” Magnush exclaimed.

“She cannot carry us, snake,” Marci objected.

“How can I help?” 

“Your wisdom reaches beyond the boundaries of the mind. Tell me - have you heard of Old Autumn?” Magnush asked.

“I have heard of this creature. A Dragonling, a dangerous monster.”

“He was kind to us. Please, you must find him! Not too far from Thilia valley, when flying. Please!” Marcian exclaimed.

“Please, we must get to Autumna castle and fast! Help us!” Magnush joined him.

Crane looked at the blood-covered men staring desperately at her. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she answered with a heavy sigh. 

***

They flew through the night and reached the Autumna castle at early dawn break. Auri was unable to cry any more, her limbs were stiff from sitting, the cool wind did soothe her wounded back, but soon enough she was freezing cold. Auri shared Heron’s cloak with Uli; the poor thing was shivering.

“Auri, I know how we can escape this,” she whispered. “I see a lake below. I could use the water to help us escape, or…”

“There is no escape for me. Morten would send more soldiers and take your stepfather’s blood instead of mine. But I’ll help you if I can,” Auri whispered back.

“I would never leave you...”

“Hush, my juicy princesses!” Ragnar pulled them both by their hair, closer to him. “Not long now!”

“Release them!” Heron demanded, and the latter let go of the two unwillingly.

The dragon landed heavily behind the black castle. Never before had Auri felt more heavy-hearted to be home. Regnar grabbed both girls and dragged them down the dragon and into the castle.

“If I could have you both, I’d be a happy wolf indeed…”

“Lord Morten awaits, Regnar, to the Throne hall!” Heron exclaimed, took Auri’s hand away from him and led her through the hallways. Regnar followed, groping poor Uli with his filthy paws. 

Heron’s Birdling messengers had reached the High King before them.

Morten stood waiting, his lonely, tall figure was slightly crouched from the pain. 

“Finally! My relief has arrived!”

“Is that your father?” Uli whispered frightened. High King Morten, though silver strands graced his long, coal black hair, and pain had cut deep lines in his face, still was a tall and a stately Autumnian. 

“He’s your grandfather,” Auri replied.

“And this? What an amazing likeness! You must be my bastard’s and that his whore’s daughter. What was her name? Ulise, was it?” Auri knew this ridicule in his idle voice well; usually the ridicule was aimed at her.

Uli didn’t even bother to answer, staring at Morten spitefully. 

“You, my dear, will serve to continue my dynasty, while Auriani, well… shall fulfil her fate.”

Morten crouched some more, an invisible flame burned his insides.

“Heron, Regnar, I wish to begin as soon as possible, take the girl to the tomb! My Aurora awaits!”

“And what about this one?” Regnar licked his lips and pulled Uli nearer.

“Oh, Regnar, there’s no time for your little joys! Besides, I want her to be impregnated by a pure-blood Autumnian, and the future High King. Sadly, Marcian has betrayed me.” Morten looked out the window. Something drew his eye, the Lord stepped back and turned away, just in time to avoid hundreds of shards flying toward him from the broken window. Something had smashed it from outside. They saw a large bleak-red dragon smashing the remains of the window. The dragon was not as big as The Red, and it was obviously very old, but it had strength in him to help Marci and Magnush get to Autumna castle just in time. The two men jumped from the Dragon’s back through the broken window and into the hall. They pulled out their swords. Lord Morten laughed at the two coldly.

“Oh, Marcian! How you disappointed me! And who is this? Some half-breed Snakeling? What a pathetic show you’ve put on!”

“Let go of them!” Marci shouted, “or we’ll behead each and every one of you!”

“Marci, no! Don’t! I’m giving my blood willingly!” Auri stopped him.

“Please, no! Frogling!”

“If not my blood, he’ll take Lord Lukean or his children!”

“A clever girl, aren’t you? Who would have thought!” Morten ridiculed her. “Enough of this! Take them to the dungeon! Auriani - to the tomb! Oh, wait… I want Marcian to witness Auriani’s last moments, since they are such good friends!” Morten’s black eyes squinted in a malicious smirk.

“Before I go, father, I have a one last wish!” Auri chirped. She was miserable - a trembling, wounded creature, her voice had no strength.

“Did you say something?”

This time Auri stood up straight and gathered all her courage to say loudly,

“The last wish of the dying should be honoured! I wish to spend one night with Magnush!”

“Oh? And why would I grant you anything?”

“I have never asked much of you, father. A little kindness would have been enough. Yet you did not give me even that much. I beg you - be kind to me at least in my last hour!” She stood brave and looked in Morten’s black, vile eyes with her golden-amber ones. Morten hesitated.

“You have one hour!” he finally grunted and stormed out of the hall. 

Auri and Magnush were taken to a vacant maid’s chamber in the basement. It had no windows, only a small bed and a table. Heron arranged them a quick meal. It would be Auri’s last. Magnush searched every inch of the chamber while she ate.

“There must be a way out! There must!”

“Magnush, I can’t escape my fate. Please… would you grant me my last wish? I… I love you!” Auri stopped his frantic pacing.

Magnush embraced her, and looked into Auri’s teary eyes. 

“It is my dearest wish as well!”

This time they did not rush. Both kissed slowly, enjoying every second, every touch, every move. Magnush kissed her neck down to her shoulders. He took off Heron’s cloak and saw Auri’s scorned back. He kneeled at the sight, pressing his forehead to Auri’s wounds. 

“You shouldn’t have suffered,” he grunted.

“It’s over. We are here and now,” Auri replied softly. 

Magnush undressed, Auri dropped the torn dress to the ground. They kissed with the slow passion of a gentle candle flame. Magnush sat in the bed and pulled Auri in his lap. He wouldn’t want to hurt her wounded back. 

“Not so shy anymore, sir assassin?” she asked through kisses.

“I had a long talk with Marci about the one-eyed dragon.”

Auri giggled. 

Their kisses and caresses became hotter and harder. They moved in the rhythm of the restless candle flame; one body and soul even if it was just for an hour. Auri cried her pleasure out loud and held tightly to Magnush’s masculine body, she wished to stay locked in his velvet embrace forever, but could not… they had hardly regained their breaths, when somebody knocked on the door. Tears streamed down Auri’s and Magnush’s eyes, as both sat with their foreheads pressed together. 

“It is time, lady Auriani,” Heron said, standing behind the door.

“I love you, my golden one,” Magnush whispered. 

Heron gave her a new dress, instead of the torn one.

“I shall never forgive myself for the pain and embarrassment that despicable Wolfling caused you, while I was late,” the old sorcerer said.

Auri kissed Magnush goodbye, whole four soldiers took him to the dungeons.

Heron led Auri into her mother’s tomb. A red sun rose in the east, its bloody light over flooded the white marble walls of Aurora’s tomb. Auri saw her - laid down on a bed, instead of the high glass pedestal. Aurora’s skin appeared white as snow, lying on the red velvet and silk bed. The tomb was trimmed with flowers and candles, Snakegrass was smouldering in heavy brass vessels on the ground all around Aurora. The ritual demanded purification. Everything was perfect - from the tips of Auroras’s golden hair, to the ornaments on the golden candle sticks. Another bed was laid next to Aurora’s, a smaller one, for Auri, obviously. 

“Finally! The hour of my relief is nearing. Heron, Regnar! Let’s not waste any more time!” Morten said, standing next to Aurora. 

“Frogling!” Marci shouted hoarsely, held by two soldiers.

“Please, Marci! I agreed to do this. I go in peace. I go fulfilled,” Auri said, as Heron maid her lay down on the smaller bed. 

“Oh, poor Marci! How pathetic you turned out to be! And I though you could be the son I never had. My mistake,” Morten said idly, “oh, but do come closer! You can even hold the little bitch’s hand and watch her draw her last breath. I think you truly deserve such a treat after betraying me.” Lord Morten grinned maliciously. The soldiers made Marci sit down on the side of Auri’s death bed.

Heron took silver instruments out of a small blackwood chest. He also had a large crystal vessel, filled with Bridling blood - that and Auri’s blood was necessary to do the dark enchantment for Aurora’s revival. 

Regnar turned into a Wolf, with his ice-blue eyes shining through the Snakegrass smoke. 

“Let’s begin,” said Heron. He chanted a spell in ancient Birdling tongue in a low and dark voice, the sun hid behind the clouds and it got nearly dark. A new storm was coming to the Damned land. 

Heron took the silver instruments; he cut the large blood vessels on Auroras right arm inserted a glass tube connected to the Birdling blood source. The dark liquid began its course, flowing through the spiralled glass tube like a bloody serpent. Next Heron cut into Auroras chest, the silver instruments pierced the flesh, he cut her chest open and inserted a string of an ivy straight into the blood vessels near her heart. All the while the Birdling sorcerer chanted his dark song, the wind and the rain washed over the marble tomb with an unseen fury, thunder roared above Autumna. 

Now Auri’s turn came; Heron cut the blood vessels of her right arm and inserted the ivy string from Aurora’s chest into it. He chanted, Auri felt her blood leaving her, traveling from her to Aurora. She grew weary by the minute, her cheeks turned pale. 

“No, Frogling, no!” Marci whispered. Auri looked into her friend’s dark eyes with her amber-golden ones. 

“I love you Marci, you know it, don’t you?”

“I love you, my sweet little Frogling, more than anybody! You will always be my soul sister!” tears fell from Marcian’s eyes. The golden thread connecting their hearts could not be torn by death. 

Auri turned deadly pale, she gasped for air and lost conscience. 

“No! No!” Marci cried. The loudest thunder made him turn to the window, and in the flash of the lightning, he saw a bird flying past the window.

“Lord Heron! Cranes are an extremely useful breed of birds. They are very useful to the frogs! Even bloody useful, I’d say!” Marci spoke frantically.

Heron looked at Marci frowning, but said nothing and kept chanting. Morten observed Auroras cheeks regain colour, with an insane joy burning in his eyes. 

“I’m glad I didn’t make you the next High King! You have lost your mind,” he ridiculed Marcian.

Regnar the Wolfling closed his eyes, then went to the wall of the tomb. A shiny woman’s figure appeared out of nowhere, he led it to Aurora, and it melted into her body. Wolflings were the guides of the spirits, usually leading them to the Foreverold, not from him, but this one was corrupted. 

Auri seemed to have stopped breathing, Aurora’s chest rose - she took a breath and opened her eyes.

“No, my Frogling, no!” Marcian cried loudly, looking at Auri’s chest. Aurora turned her head to the noise, away from Morten sitting on the right side of her bed. And thus, it was - her and Marcian’s eyes met. He was the first one she saw revived. A blue flame ignited Auroras stare.

“Aurora, my dearest!” Morten cried. She turned to him and squinted her eyes, staring at him for some minutes.

Heron hurriedly cut the ivy string, connecting Auri and her mother, he tied the plant around their hands, to reduce unnecessary blood loss. 

“Who are you?” Aurora asked.

“It’s me! Your dearest Morten.” He held Auroras pale palm in his fiery hand. 

“You’re old,” she said coldly. 

Heron stopped his magic.

“Do the honour and carry her body out of here. Let’s leave the Lord alone with his wife,” he spoke to Marci quietly. The latter, numbed by grief, took Auri into his strong arms. Heron walked away, Marcian followed.

“Who is that?” Aurora asked.

“A nobody, my dear! My Aurora, you’re alive at last!” Morten touched her face. Regnar turned to a man again and stepped back. 

As soon as Heron and Marci closed the tomb’s door, Heron whispered,

“Quick, follow me!”

The Birdling sorcerer ran into the castle. Marcian did as told, he noticed someone else following them - it was Crane. 

They ran into Heron’s chamber. 

“Put her here!”

Heron and Crane looked into each other’s eyes, Marci comprehended - these Birdling sorcerers could communicate without a word. 

Crane laid down beside Auri, Heron found some more silver instruments and an ivy string, and to Marci’s shock - the old Birdling cut Cranes arm, inserted the ivy into it and did the same with Auri’s arm. Crane began to chant a spell, but this one sounded beautifully. The blood began its course - from Crane to Auri. When Crane’s voice weakened, Heron took over the song with tears in his eyes. His hoarse voice found the right tune and became louder and stronger. Marci’s stare moved frantically from one to another. His face lit up as Auri took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Crane grew weaker, Heron cut the cord and tied it firmly around both Crane’s and Auri’s arms.

“She’s alive! My Frogling lives! My Frogling!” Marci shook crying and buried his head in Auri’s lap, embracing her. 

Crane took a deep breath. 

“You did the right thing, Heron. You did good.”

“I thought… I thought she was dead…” Marcian sobbed.

“She was just barely alive. I deprived Lady Aurora from a few drops of blood, but I think she can very well do without it,” Heron explained. 

“I knew your spirit still had the Healer’s light in it, Heron,” said Crane.

“Thank... you…” Auri whispered, taking deep breaths.

“Your father treated you like a pig, raised to be slaughtered, golden one. He refused to see the golden Thilian sunlight in your eyes and in your heart.” Heron looked at her heartily. “But I saw it. All these years when I preserved your mother’s body, I saw you grow up, always waiting for your father’s love and kindness, receiving nothing but ridicule and cruelty. Despite the cold treatment, you grew up warm-hearted and kind.”

“I have Marci… to thank… for it.”

“My Frogling!” Marcian kissed her hands. 

***

“My dearest! At last!” Morten kissed Aurora’s hand at the dinner table. After some hours she was nearly recovered - her body was well preserved by Heron’s dark Birdling magic, the cuts he made healed within a few hours - the Birdling blood had powerful healing qualities, especially when the wounds were not deep, and Aurora’s cuts Heron had performed expertly. 

Aurora observed Morten without a word, her face expressed no emotions.

“You still are pure perfection, my dearest,” Morten showered his wife with compliments all day long.

“You have changed,” she replied coldly. 

“I’ve endured the Dragonling’s curse every day and night without you. I must ask… my dearest…”

“You shall be rewarded for your patience tonight, my Lord. I feel as strong as ever. That sorcerer did well,” Aurora spoke casually.

“Yes, Heron has been most useful. He kept your beautiful body untouched by death.”

“And that girl?”

“That was the little pest, who made you suffer when you gave her birth. I kept her alive for your revival, my dearest!” Morten kissed her hand again.

“Very well. And that other man? Who is he?”

“Marcian, the ungrateful boy! He had the chance to become the next High King, but he chose to betray me!”

“Marcian,” Aurora repeated, squinting her blue eyes.

Later that night High King Morten laid in the indoor pool impatiently waiting for Aurora to come. The pool hall was richly decorated with clouds of fresh flowers and hundreds of candles. Their flames danced on the surface of the dark water. 

Morten smiled watching Aurora approach. The blood-red robe she wore glittered in the candle light, embroidered with tiny rubies and diamonds. But the most beautiful sight in Morten’s eyes appeared, when Aurora dropped the robe on the pool side. Her perfect skin shone softly like a pale pearl, her luscious golden hair fell on the feminine shoulders and her wonderfully full breasts. 

Aurora stepped into the pool, Morten made the water carry her to him. Although he had smoked Snakegrass, it did not help his burning pain. They made love heatedly, Morten’s touch left patches and patches of burned blisters on Aurora’s skin despite the ice-cold water. Once again Aurora’s lustful cries echoed in the castle, the Dragonling’s passion was hotter than ever. Everything was perfect, and when both got out of the pool, Morten’s moves were youthful again; his pain was finally relieved. Aurora watched the burning blisters heal before her eyes - the effect of Birdling blood had lingered. 

“I adore you, my Dearest! I… love you,” Morten confessed as the two of them laid on the daybed of the Winter garden. He caressed Aurora’s chest, revealed by her robe, reclining on the golden threaded cushions. 

“Oh, how much have you suffered from the burning pain every minute of these long years, my poor Morten,” she said with cold sympathy, and caressed Morten’s wrinkled cheek; the High King closed his eyes submitting completely to her touch. She was perfect - preserved in her youthful freshness, full of life and strength.

“I shall reward you in full, my dearest Morten,” she said, gently pushed him back deeper into the pillows and sat on top of him. 

“I shall repay you,” Aurora swayed in his lap slowly, with Morten closing his eyes overtaken by lust.

“You are the fulfilment of my every wish, dearest,” he growled in pleasure.

“This shall be the last wish I’ll fulfil, my Lord,” she kissed his lips passionately, and in the highest moment of his pleasure, Aurora swiftly pulled a knife from her robe, and stabbed him in the chest. Morten gasped both from pleasure and pain.

“Oh, Morten! Did you think I’d forget? How you betrayed me right here on this bed?”

He struggled for a breath.

Aurora leaned down and whispered in his ear,

“I love you, Morten, but it’s not enough.” 

And she twisted the blade in his chest. With a heart-breaking moan the Dragon was slayed forever.

 Aurora pulled the knife out, cut her own wrist and poured the blood over Morten’s chest. The Birdling blood made his skin heal within minutes. Aurora buried the blade in the soil of the Winter Garden, cleaned off all the blood, the colour of her robe hid the traces of blood. Morten appeared to be fast asleep - his face calm and peaceful. 

“Oh, my poor Lord! He smoked too much Snakegrass and his heart stopped! Oh, poor me!” Aurora smirked, standing above him. 

“Hail to the Queen!” Aurora shrugged smiling and leisurely paced out the Winter Garden.