“It’s time.” said Ewan. “Mathilda the white mage…”

The woman in the pale dress nodded.

“Circe the Sellsword…”

Another woman, tan-skinned, smirked and spun her blade in her hands.

"and Claystone the Impenetrable...”

The man in the giant suit of armor made no motion.

“...beyond this door lies the source of the malaise spread throughout our land. For the Demon Lord, the underworld is not enough. He wishes to control the land, air, and sea of Omniscia, to make it his. Will we yield?” finished Ewan.

“No,” said Circe. “We kill.”

“But what if we do not need to kill him?” asked Mathilda. “What if he wishes to surrender?”

“Fat chance!” said Circe. "You know how many monsters we had to fight through to get here? You know how many injuries that you've had to heal from us while they've tried to cut us to pieces? Poor Claystone must have been writhing in pain!"

Everyone looked at Claystone but his expression was, naturally, rather impenetrable. Circe glanced at Ewan for backup, who scowled.

"We will beat the Demon Lord into submission!" shouted Ewan. "Now on the count of three, I will strike down the door, and we will smite him for the people of Omniscia. Circe, raise your sword - Claystone, your axe - Mathilda, you know what to do. 3… 2…”

Mathilda quietly raised her hand.

"1... 1... 1..." said Ewan. Mathilda still had her hand up and her healing staff in her pocket.

“Mathilda. Do you have a ‘question?’ said Ewan.

“Ewan, much of my magic has been spent," said Mathilda. "Right now I can set a spell that will help us escape or I can set shields that will ward once against heavy blows, but I cannot do both. I believe a warp spell would be best because if we underestimate the Demon Lord it can save our lives."

“We are not cowards,” said Ewan. “Set the shield spell, please.”

“We must be wise.” said Mathilda. “We cannot be reckless.”

“Set the shields.” said Ewan.

"Are we a party of equals?" said Mathilda.

"Excuse me?" said Ewan.

"I acknowledge you as prince, but when you asked me to join, you said it'd be four people working together, all for a common goal." said Mathilda. "If that's the case then I'd like you to trust my own judgement."

"Set the shields Mathilda." said Ewan again. "I speak as your future king!"

As Mathilda opened her lips again Ewan made snapping motion with his hand. "We're done here. Your protests have ruined the moment. Now 3, 2, 1..."

As he opened the door, Ewan felt the warm blessing of light magic spread across him. It was a familiar sensation as its embrace was the same no matter what white spell was cast.

The throne room was the palace’s heart, with three halls leading to the vast atrium - one behind them, one in front of them, and the one that they just came from. Sunlight was cast through stained-glass windows and a skylight from above, and fell onto the Demon Lord who was now lounging on his throne.

The Demon Lord was a hulking figure whose face was hidden by a skull. It was made of real bone, but no one knew where it had come from - some said that the skull was carved from his dead mentor; others whispered that it was his own skull and behind it a empty void, that the Demon Lord had made a pact with an unknown devil to gain his power.

“Your stronghold here by the ocean cliffs will fall.” said Ewan. He glanced at Mathilda and spoke again. “We will not take surrender for an answer.”

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“Prepare to get destroyed.” said Circe.

A slow, loud, boom, emanated from behind the Demon Lord's skull-shaped mask.

It echoed through the throne room before dying into silence.

The party tensed; Circe unsheathed her weapon and Claystone readied his battle-axe.

But Ewan realized it was not a battle cry but laughter.

The Demon folded his hands and spoke:

“While you were assembling your party, did you think that I was just sleeping on my throne?”

“Yes!” snickered Circe. “We had to kill, like, one thousand random-ass mooks. If you're the best fighter then what the hell were you doing all this time?”

“Caution, Circe.” said Ewan. "The Demon Lord is not to be trifled with, and as a member of Royalty he deserves respect."

“You gathered us all here because we’re top class.” said Circe. “I have great reflexes, you have great battle tactics, Claystone of course - “

she glanced at him. “- no one can get through him. And Mathilda knows support magic and is kind of a nerd about demons.”

The Demon King continued laughing, and now he began to applaud. Slowly, then faster and faster.

“Don’t make fun of us!” snapped Circe.

But the Demon King ignored her and continued.

“He isn’t mocking us.” said Mathilda. “This… is a signal!”

“She’s right,” said Ewan. "Everyone, look sharp!"

“No wait!” said Mathilda. “Don’t look!”

Circe had twisted around, ready to attack. But the sword that she held now high in the air would never complete its arc. For Circe's eyes had met with a green-skinned creature who had emerged from one of the doors, that had hissing snakes for hairs and a now wore sickly, sadistic, grin. Circe’s skin had thickened and cracked into gray, turned into a statue by the Gorgon King.

In front now, another door opened. This time there walked a beautiful women, with long black hair. But when she opened her mouth out came a terrible shriek.

“Let’s retreat.” said Mathilda. “I set the ---!” Let’s go back! Just say ---!’

The siren's screaming smothered her words.

On the other side of the room, the Gorgon King's smirk had vanished. Claystone was approaching him using his shield as a mirror. Though his axe flew wildly off the mark, the Gorgon was forced to back away slowly to avoid being caught in the blade.

“It’s still three of us against the three of them!” cried Ewan, though in truth it was more three on two. The Demon King had not even risen from his throne, though in his hands he had conjured a dark-black fireball.

The Demon Lord cast it and Ewan rolled to the side. The fireball went wide -- it curved upwards and struck the skylight, which burst open, glass falling to the ground like raindrops, this mock downpour then followed by a real one. Storm clouds outside had gathered since the fight had begun.

Ewan brushed himself off. The Demon Lord is convinced he has the upper hand, ambushing us by hiding two of his minions behind the other two doors. But he is rusty, for that magic bolt went wide.

But then Ewan looked up and met the blazing eyes of the Lightning Dragon,

the three headed-flying serpent,

two thousand pounds of scales and wings ready to crash into him,

flying from where the skylight had been burst through,

and again the demon king was laughing, and Mathilda was still shouting, the siren was screaming, and the Lightning Dragon roared and time stopped for Ewan.

Ewan was a fighter, and had met far worse in his time, in the underworld from where the Demon Lord came. Ewan had mastered the art of ‘thinking without thinking’ -- the ability to call up of a strategy in his mind and to command his body to follow through in one frozen moment.

If Ewan was able to express the flash of thought he had now, this is what he would say.

The shield. Of course, the magic shield Mathilda set will take the blow.

The dragon will be surprised that I'm still standing, and then I will ready my sword and lop off the lightning-dragon’s first head.

While the dragon struggles, I will then would take then take out the siren - then the gorgon - and then finally deal with the Demon Lord.

It will not be easy, but it is something a Prince can do even if alone.

It was not a thought he expected to be his last.

The lightning dragon connected with Ewan, and he flew back and shattered the stained-glass window, red drops of blood mingling with a million colored shards.

Below him was nothing but the sea.

Ewan plunged

falling

falling

hundreds

of

feet

past the castle

past the cliff

and struck the water, and then he knew no more.

And the Demon Lord kept laughing.