The four of them rushed through forest towards the castle. There, on the lawn, stood Zyzzyva, with Talia by his side. The king and queen cowered behind them. Surrounding Zyzzyva were his trolls, and flying wraiths circled above the castle menacingly. He patted his new bride’s hand.

“There, there,” he said. “This won’t take a moment.”

“Kill the traitors,” Talia said, her eyes narrow. “She never belonged to this family, anyway.”

“Really?” Terry said.

Maurice began his utterance to create a golden orb around them.

“Don’t bother,” Zyzzyva said, and flicked his hand. The orb shimmered a moment, and dissolved. “Here,” he said in a strangely generous tone, and Arabelle’s wand floated to her. “I want to see what you can do with it before I destroy you.”

“GrrOAHHHRRRRRRRRRR!” Gregor said, and rushed at the wizard and his bride with all his might. He bounced off of him harmlessly—harmlessly to the wizard that is.

“Ouch!” Gregor said.

Arabelle lifted her wand and attempted to destroy his defensive forcefield while Teresa threw her golden ball. Zyzzyva caught it in his hand.

“Lovely toy,” he said, and hurled it back at her in a blur. It hit her square in the chest and she fell back, gasping for breath.

“Don’t you get it?” he said to them. “I’m just playing with you. I am Zyzzyva, wizard of the northern mountains. I have lived for 500 years, nursing my grudge against humanity, and developing my great skills. And then—miracle of miracles—in my quest to conquer the kingdom I also find someone who truly understands me—” he shot an affectionate glance at Talia.

“They’re actually in love,” Maurice murmured.

“I know, it’s disgusting,” Terry said.

“I’m not going to let you ruin my wedding day,” Talia said. “Even more than you already have. Zyzzyva, please, destroy them and get this over with.”

“Very well, my sweet,” Zyzzyva said, and reached both hands to the sky. The clouds stirred above him in an extremely threatening fashion, and lighting boiled in them.

“I want to make sure all of you are as fearful before death as you can possibly be,” Zyzzyva added helpfully. “It nourishes me. So, please, go ahead and scream away.”

To Maurice and Arabelle’s surprise, Terry’s mouth dropped open in an awesome scream. Then they realized she wasn’t just madly screaming—she was saying words.

And the words were “Old! Tom!”

And Old Tom appeared! Only, this wasn’t the Old Tom that Terry was used to seeing—the little bandy-legged old man with the face in happy creases. He stood tall—taller even than Zyzzyva, and he wore a long green robe. His face was the same, only longer and graver.

“Is that you, Old Tom?” Terry asked.

He turned to her and winked an eye. “I told you I’d come,” he said. And then he walked quietly towards Zyzzyva.

“Old Tom doesn’t like you,” he said.

“You can’t hurt me, Old Tom,” Zyzzyva challenged, though he did grow pale upon seeing the entity. “I’m part of the family.”

“I owed the youngest a boon,” Old Tom said, “and she did not squander it, though she had many chances to do so. That boon transcends family ties.”

“You can’t destroy me!” Zyzzyva said, his voice rising in panic.

“Oh, but I can!” Old Tom said, and with each word he grew stronger, and taller, until his towering figure nearly dwarfed the castle. “Begone with ye, Zyzzyva, and your dark magic with you!”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

A great whirlwind filled the air, and the wizard screamed in agony. “I! Am! Family!” he screamed, and as his visage cruelly melted away, he thrust his hands out in front of him, towards his cowering bride, Talia! Energy coursed in her body as she twitched and convulsed with it, screaming in pleasured agony as the figure of Zyzzyva melted away to nothing.

Then his robe was a rag on the ground, and Old Tom was nowhere to be seen. Talia lie flat on her back, stunned.

“Mom and Dad?” Teresa said, rushing to them. “Are you okay?”

“Terry,” her mother said, and embraced her.

“I’m so sorry, Terry,” her father said. “I thought it was the right thing to do. Keep peace within the family. And you were gone.”

“It’s okay,” Terry said. “It’s Zyzzyva. He put you in a terrible position.”

“She loved him,” her mother said, looking at Talia’s inert body.

“Is she okay?” Terry asked.

Her body began to twitch, then she rose up onto her feet as if lifted by an invisible force, her face twisted with unspeakable rage.

“You killed my husband,” she said.

“Old Tom did,” Terry said, “and also, he was an evil wizard.”

“He! Lives! On!” Talia said, and she began to change horribly. Her already swollen body grew to three times her size, until she was an ogre-sized version of herself. The twisted anger on her face remained until her visage became that of a wild, dumb animal. She roared instead of spoke. “Zyzzyva lives in me,” she said, and her monstrous aspect gave truth to her words.

Maurice rushed to her side and began his utterance, so a golden orb grew around them. Gregor stepped out of the orb and attacked her with his iron sword. He stabbed at her thigh, trying to find the femoral artery, but only stabbed into the meat of her quad muscle, making her roar with anger more than pain, and swatting him away with a meaty fist.

“How dare you,” she gibbered. The wound bled, but it was far from mortal. Arabelle then stepped out of the orb and waved her platinum wand over her head—sending lighting bolts straight for Talia’s eyes. Talia screamed, blinded by the bolts of electricity, but again, the wound was far from mortal. She brushed at her eyes—one socket was empty but the other blue eye stared balefully at the warriors.

Terry stepped out of the orb, ready to face this final beast—her own sister—utterly poisoned by her weird love for the dark, horrible wizard. There was nothing left of Talia now—the spoiled princess was gone. Instead, she was a monster and Terry knew she must be destroyed. Old Tom couldn’t help her now—she was on her own.

She drew her saber and stabbed madly upward, but missed totally. She didn’t even create a surface wound as Gregor had done.

“Is that all you got, sister,” the monster that was once Talia roared. “Ha! I will crunch your bones.”

“Throw the golden ball!” Arabelle said.

“But she’s—a beast, not a magic creature,” Terry said. “She’s transformed flesh.”

“Throw it—” Maurice said.

Terry threw the golden ball straight at the head of Talia with all her might. It made a perfect arc and hit her right in the temple—even if she had thrown a stone instead of her ball, it was the perfect trajectory. The ball’s magic could not affect Talia, but the heavy mass of the metal ball and the skill of her throw turned it into the perfect missile.

The beast that was Talia crumbled to the ground, quite dead.

The four companions looked in silence at the horrid monster that her sister had become, now finally still, her face still twisted in a horrible fleshy rage.

“She can’t hurt you anymore,” Maurice said.

“Most importantly, she can’t hurt them,” Terry said, indicating the royal king and queen. She rushed to them as they stood in shock.

“I’m so sorry, mother,” she said, and embraced her.

“It’s all right, Terry,” her mother said. “You did what you had to do.”

Then she fainted into her husband’s arms.

“Oh, my dear,” the King said, and signaled to a waiting soldier.

“Take her to her rooms. I’ll be up soon.”

He turned to Terry. “Of course I didn’t want Talia to marry the wizard,” her father confessed. “But she insisted. She said it was the only way we could save the kingdom, and that we didn’t have a choice, anyway. We were quite overrun, you know. Our armies haven’t fought in a century. I never thought you were a traitor.”

“I believe you,” Terry said.

“My poor Talia,” the king said. “Blinded by love, and transformed into a monster. I won’t remember her this way, or what you had to do to the thing that she became. I'll remember my little girl. My poor child--" he choked up. "I must go to your mother.”

“I understand,” Terry said.

The king looked grim. “Your work isn’t done, you know. That wretched wizard brought every evil and wicked spirit, monster and wraith to gather here. They’re scattered now without their leader, but they won’t go easy back to whatever filthy hole they crawled out of. You must take back the kingdom from them, or chaos will reign.”

“Of course,” Terry said. “Gregor—uh, has an army.”

“Well, use it,” the King said. He looked around. “It seems the ogres and trolls have scattered. Why don’t you start with hunting them down.”

Terry was about to confirm when Gregor rushed up, his face shocked.

“Terry, I just got a message from my headquarters in the forest. My army is in revolt. I have to go back and see if I can bring some order to the troops.”

“We’ll all go,” Terry said. “If your army revolts, they’re as likely to join the trolls and ogres in creating chaos as anything. We need them on our side.” She turned to her father. “You better get inside the castle,” she said.

They hurried off to the forest.

“I hope you can bring the troops under control,” Maurice said. “Or we’re walking into a deathtrap.”

“With all the trolls and ogres in the forest, we’re walking into one either way,” Terry said.