Yet again, Twain woke up in a mysterious bed. He blinked and stretched. I feel… good. Light. There’s no pain anywhere.

“Twain!” Cel sat up. “You’re awake?”

“Cel!” He jumped up and grabbed her in a hug. “You’re fine?”

“I’m fine. We’re all fine, thanks to you.” She hugged him tight.

“Moss, slowly, slowly—”

The door burst open. Moss bounded in and jumped on Twain, her face a picture of joy. “You’re fine! I was so scared, Twain, I thought you were going to die, all because I—I was selfish, I—”

“Or look at it this way: he saved the world, because you were selfish,” Dayander offered gently. He nodded at Twain, a smile on his lips. “Welcome back, Prince.”

“Thank you. Did—did it work? Is the blight gone?” Twain asked, releasing Cel. It took some doing to pry his way out of Moss’s grip, but he managed in the end.

Dayander nodded. “As far as anyone can tell, it’s been banished from the world. Not just the Barrier, but the world at large, as well. There’s still a few pockets of darkfoe, but we can handle it. Even as we speak, there are expeditions setting out from the old borders of the Barrier, out to explore the world and settle the wilds.”

“Wow,” Twain breathed. “It’s all gone. It’s really gone.”

Dayander nodded. “Really.”

Wait, but if the blight formed in the gap where the Mage-Emperor’s magic was scooped out, then—Felix… He looked at Dayander. “What was the cost? What happened?”

Dayander ducked is head. “Felix…”

Twain’s heart squeezed. No.

The door squeaked open. A familiar brunette stood in the doorway, hesitant.

“Felix lost his magic,” Dayander finished.

Twain glared at him. “You made me think he died, for a second there!”

“What? Dear heavens, no.”

Felix hovered in the doorway, glancing in.

Cel stood abruptly. “Why don’t we all take a quick walk? The three of us. Twain, you rest, you’ve just woken up.”

“A walk would be nice, actually,” Twain said.

Cel glared at him. A gentleness in her voice that wasn’t in her eyes, she repeated, “Stay here. Rest.”

“Er… got it.” Twain put his hands up. What’s got into her?

Shooting one last glance behind her, Cel herded Dayander and Moss out. At a loss, Twain sat on his bed and sighed. “Come on in, Felix.”

“H…hello.” Felix hesitated in the doorway. “Is it alright?”

“What? You know I’m not a woman,” Twain replied, squinting. He looked down at himself. I am only in a nightshirt, but whatever. Even Cel saw me in it. It’s fine.

“Are you sure?” Felix asked, still hesitant. “I mean, you know that I… you…”

“You what me?” Twain asked, still frowning.

“L… like,” Felix muttered, staring at his feet.

Twain blinked. All at once, the finer details of what had contrived on Reihann’s back came back to him, and he blushed. Wait, shit. Did I really confess to Felix? And—wait, he likes me back? I… He put his face in his hands and sighed.

“Er, I can come back later, if it’s—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Come in. Not like you’ve never seen my legs before,” Twain said, shaking his head.

Felix shuffled in shyly, staring at his shoes. After a few moments, he looked up at Twain. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? I lost my power. I’m not the Mage-Emperor anymore.”

“All of it?” Twain asked.

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Felix nodded. He raised his hands and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut in intense concentration. Nothing happened. His hands stayed empty. He opened his eyes and cast them a mournful glance. “No more magic.”

Twain reached his hand out and focused. Effortlessly, a tiny illusory bird formed in his palm. He and Felix both looked at it, and then Twain shut his hand around it, quashing the illusion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no. I’m glad you still have yours,” Felix replied, squeezing Twain’s hand. “You have to figure out a way to bring back Xenozar, right?”

“Right,” Twain said, laughing.

An awkward silence formed between them. Twain stared at his bare feet, squishing his gray toes into the carpet. Urgh, this is the worst. I don’t know what to say.

“Twain, I, uh. I wanted to ask you something,” Felix said.

“Anything,” Twain replied mindlessly.

“I don’t have any magic anymore. And I’m not the Mage-Emperor, or anyone special—”

“Wrong. You still are. You didn’t lose the title when you lost your magic, not in my eyes. And I’ll do everything in my power to see you instated as the ruler of the human country,” Twain pledged.

“I—”

“Anything to keep that worm Reginald out of power,” Twain muttered.

“I, er, they already made me king,” Felix muttered. “After what Sabelyn did… the other countries pledged to honor only my lead of the human country. And, er, the other humans aren’t too happy with Sabelyn and her line, so, uh… I guess I’m king now.”

“Oh.” Twain paused, then stood and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“Stop that, stop that. You know I don’t like that,” Felix said, hurrying to lift Twain out of his bow. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but…”

Twain nodded. “I did bring it up. So… what did you want to ask me?”

“I, uh, I…” Felix stood, fidgeting nervously. He reached into his pocket and took out a small box, then dropped to his knee. He opened the box, revealing a gold ring. “Uhm, will you… marry me?”

Twain blinked. “What?”

“I like—l, love you, Twain. For… for a while now. I thought—you feel the same way, right? So, uh…” He gestured with the gold ring.

“I feel like we’re skipping a few steps,” Twain laughed.

“Like what? Defeating the Dark King?” Felix replied.

Twain shook his head. “Alright, you’ve got me there. But uh, I guess… between moon elves, courtship can take decades. Centuries, even. This just feels a bit fast.”

“I’m a human, Twain. I don’t have centuries. I barely have decades,” Felix replied. His shoulders slumped, but he did his best to keep his voice upbeat. “But… if you want me to wait, I…”

“It’s fast, that’s all I said. I didn’t say no,” Twain replied. He closed his eyes. How do I feel? I love him. I want to stay with him. I was willing to die for him. How much more proof do I need? He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Felix wrapped him in a bearhug. “Twain!”

“Hold on, hold on. Uh, can we get married? I know humans don’t much like, er, this kind of partnership, and… we aren’t even the same race…”

“Who’s going to stop the Mage-Emperor, the very same one who banished blight forever, and the moon elf who made it all possible?” Dayander asked, leaning in the doorway.

Twain narrowed his eyes at Dayander. “You were listening?”

“Twain! I support you! I’ll convince Mom, don’t worry!” Moss shouted, from somewhere close down the hallway.

“Took you two long enough,” Cel chipped in.

Twain sighed and shook his head. ‘Go on a walk?’ What kind of walk was that! You didn’t go anywhere!

Dayander smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

Felix smiled. “Thank you.”

Twain nodded as well. “It’s all over, huh? It still doesn’t feel real.”

Felix let go and took his hand. He led Twain out to the balcony. They looked out into the countryside. Brilliant green trees lined the quiet walkways. Beautiful gardens unfurled flowers to the sun, which danced in a cerulean sky.

“The palace is destroyed, so… this is one of the royal manors,” Felix explained.

“It’s beautiful,” Twain replied, squeezing Felix’s hand.

“Does it feel real now?” Felix asked, watching Twain closely.

Twain took it all in, soaking in the sunlight, the birdsong, the healthy plants and clean water. Distantly overhead, Reihann soared through the sky. A loud giggle rang out, and Gawain burst out of a rosebush, chased by a half-dozen other goblins. He squinted, and just made out Brittany and Clarita sharing tea with Sela. Leaa waved from the treeline, carefully tending a patch of the orchard, while Spar, in horse form, chomped the freshly-fallen apples. He nodded at Twain and tossed him an encouraging wink.

Twain turned to Felix. “It does.”

Felix stared at him. Cautiously, he leaned in, eyelashes lowered.

Twain grinned and leaned toward him, giving Felix a peck on the lips. “Is that what you wanted to do?”

“No,” Felix said. He gripped Twain by the small of his back, pulled him close, and kissed him, long and slow.

Startled, Twain went stiff, but then closed his eyes and melted into it. So this is what kissing is like.

They broke at last. Twain gasped for breath. Rosy-cheeked, Felix drew back just a little. “I… I love you, Twain.”

“I love you, too,” Twain whispered back.

“Whoo hoo! I knew you two would figure it out!” Brittany hollered from the tea table.

A furious blush broke out on Twain’s cheeks. He grabbed Felix by the hand. “Maybe we should go somewhere without an audience?”

“R—right now?” Felix asked, blushing back.

Twain paused, then blushed deeper as the realization struck him. He swallowed, then looked Felix firmly in the eye. “Why not?”

“Oh dear, look at the time. Moss, we really must go, your mother will be here any minute now,” Dayander said.

“What? Hey! Don’t grab me, I’m your princess! Dayander! Cel! Unhand me!”

The door shut.

Twain shook his head, and Felix smiled back. Holding his hand, Twain led Felix into the bedroom and shut the curtains behind them.

Cut off from the show, Brittany sighed. “Ah, young love.”

“Twain is older than you, you know,” Clarita reminded her. “Older than most of us.”

She waved her hand. “Young love is young love. It doesn’t matter how old you are.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Spar asked, chomping down on another apple. He swished his tail. “I’ve just got to find myself a filly now. Or maybe a fine stallion.”

“Is our Spar ready to settle down?” Brittany asked, shocked.

He snorted and nudged her playfully with his muzzle. “I never said that. Just that I’m looking.”

She laughed.

Sela sipped her tea and sat back, eyeing the window with a small smile. “I hope they don’t forget my invitation.”