With the bunyip still frozen along with the rest of the swamp, there was no danger in everyone descending to the bottom. Enkaiein let them all go when he touched down and reformed himself into the usual winged horse. Jasmine slid down his wing, jogging over to the silver pendant she had made.

“How do I get him out?” She asked, plucking it out of a jagged bit of ice, the center of which was melting. Enkaiein drooped his head. The red knight, Albert and the King led their horses out of Enkaiein and remounted them, patting their necks and manes to calm them down. Swift trotted over to Jasmine and nibbled on her hair.

“Swift,” Prince Albert scolded from the saddle, “That’s enough.”

Swift stopped nibbling, turned its head and snorted. The red knight tugged on the reigns of his own stallion, approaching the crystalized bunyip with the other knights.

“So strange a beast,” said the blue knight.

“Indeed,” said the other. The red knight turned his horse around to face the hole still ripped in space where the bunyip had initially emerged.

“What do we do about that?” The red knight asked, gesturing toward the rift. The others shrugged. Prince Albert knelt by Jasmine who had the dragon pendant in one hand and the fastitocalon scale in the other.

“There is no way to reverse the effect without releasing both of them,” said Enkaiein.

“Then they must remain fused,” said King Allard.

“No!” Jasmine yelled. “I didn’t mean for him to get caught up in it! I didn’t mean to do this! Kurventhor was supposed to make it back to Ellindris alive! He was supposed to be fine, not turned into some freakish conglomeration of wizard plus jewelry!”

“Jasmine,” came Kurventhor’s voice booming inside her head. She squeaked and stopped talking, looking down at the pendant with both fear and curiosity. And guilt. Lots of guilt.

“Kurventhor?”

Enkaiein tilted his head and the King and Albert made confused faces at Jasmine. The knights were wandering toward the rift, far less cautious than they would have been if they knew the dangers that lurked beyond it.

“Jasmine,” Prince Albert said.

“They most likely cannot hear me,” said Kurventhor and now that Jasmine was paying attention she realized she wasn’t hearing him with her ears but with her mind. It felt odd, like when music is so loud you can feel the drumbeats in your heart but your ears are deafened by headphones. “Do not worry. In this small space I have contained Fragmaroginog. He is powerless now, but I ask that you do not release either of us yet.”

“But why not,” Jasmine asked, “If you’ve got him contained then why can’t I just undo it?”

Enkaiein seemed to understand now. Prince Albert and King Allard were trying to, but simply didn’t. To them Jasmine seemed to be talking to herself, staring fixedly at the little silver dragon in her hand. Even still, they could make pretty good guesses as to who she was talking to, crazy or otherwise. They stood there and didn’t interrupt.

“He may be powerless but so am I,” said Kurventhor, “I suspect our communication will soon be broken. The silver is swallowing me, I can feel it.”

“What do I do?”

“Tell my wife I love her. She will be angry but she will not harm you if you tell her all that has happened.”

Somehow that didn’t make Jasmine feel very confident about confronting the Dragon Queen with the fact that her husband could now be sold at a flea market.

“Jasmine,” Kurventhor said, sounding a little more rushed now.

“Yes, yes I’m still here,” said Jasmine. “What is it?”

“I am sure there is a way to reverse this. Just remember that if you release me, you release Fragmaroginog. There is no way around that. Find a way to trap him first. Promise me that.”

“I promise.” Jasmine gave Kur a good thirty seconds to respond. He didn’t. “Kurventhor? Kur?”

Nothing.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Prince Albert said. Jasmine sighed and gave the tiniest of nods.

“It seems we must bring this news to Ellindris,” said Enkaiein. Jasmine stared sadly at the little silver dragon in her hands. It was dense, heavier than a pendant its size should be, and Jasmine found herself wondering if that was because of what she would have to tell Ellindris or because of who was contained within it. Prince Albert and King Allard looked at each other and then the King called for the knights to rejoin them. The clop of the horse hooves echoed in Jasmine’s mind. She climbed atop Enkaiein, gripping the pendant tightly in hand.

“Jasmine,” said the red knight.

“Hm?”

“Take this,” the red knight removed a silver chain from his neck, thick and empty. “It was forged from the same bewitched silver as my arrow tips. It should hold your artifact securely.”

“Oh,” Jasmine took the chain from the knight, inspecting it in the drizzles of sunlight that made it through the canopy. “Thank you.” She held the pendant up to the chain and imagined a clasp on the top. It appeared along with a subtle glow from the fastitocalon scale she had placed back in the pouch at her hip. The red knight bowed and made to leave, but Prince Albert stopped him.

“Where did you acquire such an artifact,” demanded the prince.

The red knight said, “From a wizard, boy.”

Jasmine fastened the chain, now holding Kurventhor and Fragmaroginog’s condensed essence, around her neck. It was just as heavy as it had been in her palm and hung over her heart, cold and metallic.

“Let us return to Albreton,” said the King. Enkaiein lifted off.

They took their time getting back and this time it was Jasmine who barely spoke. The King and Prince Albert seemed to be getting along better or something because they conversed with each other just as much as the knights this time around. It was Enkaiein who joined Jasmine in silence, the weight of the loss weighing on both of them. They had only one conversation the entire way back and it consisted of this:

“Kurventhor was a dear friend of mine,” said Enkaiein. “I will miss him.”

“Me too,” said Jasmine.

The red knight eyed them, chewing on jerky. Then everyone packed up and headed back down the path towards Albreton. Even King Allard hesitated when he reached the castle gates, taking a moment to breathe deeply and swallow before he opened the door.

Ellindris stared at them expectantly. It was disheartening. After everyone filed inside and the knights retreated to their quarters, Jasmine walked up to her and gulped.

“Where is my husband?” Ellindris asked. She looked past Jasmine to Enkaiein and then beyond him at the open door. Empty space stood beyond it where Kurventhor should have been. Then the door slammed shut. Ellindris stood, flicking her wings out and refolding them. Her scales rose slightly and exuded enough heat that Jasmine could feel it waft over her. She grasped the pendant and pulled it out from under the collar of her shirt.

“I’ll find a way to undo it,” Jasmine said, unable to stop herself from tearing up. She presented Ellindris with the pendant, shivering despite the fact that the temperature spiked at least ten degrees instantaneously. Ellindris’ mouth hung open. Her geometric face contorted enough to display anguish. Jasmine remembered a time when she thought dragons couldn’t make expressions because of how stiff their facial structures were. Right now she felt stupid for ever thinking something like that. “He told me to tell you he loves you,” Jasmine said quickly, hoping it would be enough for Ellindris not to fry her alive. Although even if the dragon did kill her on the spot, Jasmine somehow doubted she’d be able to find a way to blame Ellindris for lashing out. But surprisingly, Ellindris did not get angry. Instead, she sobbed.

“Oh Kur, my Kur,” Ellindris whimpered in between hiccups as she crumpled into a scaly heap on the floor.

“Ellindris,” said Enkaiein, swooping closer to stand nearby Jasmine as the Dragon Queen wept before them. “Kurventhor is not dead. There is still hope. Jasmine has given you her word that she will find a way to reverse the effect.”

“My Kur,” Ellindris sniveled. Jasmine shrunk back, holding the pendant to her chest as if that would shield her from all this emotion. It only seemed to make it worse, the solid weight of regret in her hands that rested against her heart, the coolness of its metal so similar to the feel of Kurventhor’s scales. She wanted to vomit. Backing away she walked right into Albert.

“I’ve never seen a dragon cry,” said Prince Albert.

“I’m going to fix this,” Jasmine said, shoving past him, “I have to fix this.” Prince Albert watched her go with a frown. Soon Princess Salina was at his side, a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked to her, taking her chin in his hands before he placed a light kiss on her lips. It was void of his usual passion and energy and Princess Salina sighed when it was done.

“There, there,” Enkaiein was saying, patting Ellindris’ wing with his hoof.

And then Princess Salina tugged on Albert’s arm. Unable to resist, Prince Albert followed her out of the main hall and into the winding corridors of the castle, the both of them going deeper and deeper towards the center, towards the Hall of Truth. When they reached the Hall of Truth, Princess Salina pointed at the door. Together they shoved it open. Inside it was glowing. Prince Albert took a step inside, curious and confused. Princess Salina was right behind him upon entering but soon broke away to approach one of the walls. The blue mahogany vines spread from her fingertips when she placed her hand on the wall. She looked at Albert expectantly.

“You want me to touch the wall?”

Salina nodded, kept her hand in place.

“Okay,” said Albert. He tiptoed up to the wall, placed his hand flatly against its surface and waited. Salina smiled at him. Then she did something strange. She danced. Removing her hand from the wall she executed a perfect one-two step followed by a twirl. Prince Albert, now completely bewildered, arched an eyebrow at his love. “What are you doing?” He asked.

Salina stopped and then held up her index finger over her lips.

Having been shushed, Albert shifted his weight to the other foot. He was about to remove his hand from the wall, a purely unconscious gesture and the consequence of standing mostly on the other foot, when Salina slammed her hand over his to keep it in place. She shook her head no. Don’t move. It won’t work if you move.

“Salina?”

This time she kissed him to keep him in place. He leaned into it, tasting her lips like strawberries. And what he didn’t see, for his eyes had closed, was the blue of the mahogany vines glow brighter, illuminating the entire space they occupied. They swirled along the walls, crawled down under the floor, shook the room. But all of this went unnoticed to Prince Albert and Princess Salina, caught up in each other like tides of an ocean. Finally, Prince Albert removed his hand from the wall and the illumination ceased all at once, stopping short of reaching the giant double doors.

Princess Salina smiled up at him. The doors slammed shut and the room shifted. Prince Albert stumbled.

“What’s going on? Salina! What did you do?”

She embraced him, each helping the other keep balance until it ended. And then she broke free of his chest, pointed to the very center of the room, and only then did he understand. A conglomeration of vines all luminescent and pulsating, danced in the very center of the room where Enkaiein was once held hostage. They swished back and forth, forming into a creature all its own whose only way of expressing itself was through the shifting of its many vines. Its tendrils spanned the entire room, all up and down the walls, across the high ceiling. On the floor they coiled over each other like a pile of garter snakes.

This whole room was an artifact. It struck Prince Albert now why it had been featured in so many of his childhood stories, why everyone in the kingdom, royalty or not, knew of the secret room inside the castle, a room where anything was possible and only truths could dwell. Salina walked right toward the creature. Prince Albert held out a hand, too late to grab her shoulder and stop her.

“Salina, please! We don’t know what that thing could do!”

She turned toward him, winked, and kept walking. He followed after, hand drifting towards the sword hilt at his belt. The thing bobbed back and forth, overlapping itself like threads of fabric. Salina copied the motion to the best of her ability, adding a hop at the end. She waved and gestured toward herself and then back at the thing. Then it grabbed hold of her and Albert rushed forward, screaming her name. The vines had completely swallowed her, totally wrapped around every bit of her body, and now they were brighter than sunlight in the center of the room. So bright that Albert couldn’t bear to keep his eyes open. He shielded his face with his arms and stammered backwards.

A soft hand touched his fingertips, light as a fairy, and Prince Albert opened his eyes to see Salina standing there looking exactly like herself, no longer like a handmaid. The short hair of Mythos had grown long and wavy. Her eyes had returned to that brilliant auburn color he loved so much and she was clothed in the very same dress she had worn when she first had gone missing, blue and billowing in a soft magical breeze about her ankles.

“I have waited long for this,” she said. Her voice was the timbre of Jasmine’s but far softer, less grainy. Proper, as royalty speaks.

“Salina,” said Prince Albert. He took her hand, buried his nose in her wrist and smelled her true scent: a subtle waft of plant life. She smelled like Jasmine, the flower, not the person. She had returned to normal, the spell on her completely undone. “I don’t understand,” Prince Albert said, gazing behind Salina to the strange intermingled creature in the center of the room, “But thank you, whatever you are, for returning her to normal.”

The vines wiggled back and forth, slow and graceful like a ballerina’s arabesque.

“It cannot speak,” said Salina. “I believe that is why we bonded so quickly when we first met. It was not until Fragmaroginog was no longer inside the castle that I could fully understand them. They say they are one creature, but also many. It is difficult for me to express in words but somehow I connected with them. I know what they are saying when they dance. Strange, is it not?”

“Do you think they can heal Kurventhor?” Prince Albert blurted. Salina blinked at him and then sighed.

“I have asked them, but they say the wizard was locked away for a reason. They cannot release Kurventhor without releasing Fragmaroginog. I am afraid it is impossible. They do not want to set the wizard free, and I cannot blame them for that.”

“Fragmaroginog,” said Prince Albert as he came closer, “Was he the one who bewitched you?”

“He was.”

Prince Albert pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It is okay,” said Princess Salina, “There was no way you could have known. And besides, I met a close friend through the ordeal. Enkaiein is a wise and commendable beast. Although I hope…” She paused then, and looked at the ground, watching the tendrils wave back and forth by her feet, duller now but still illuminated. “I hope Jasmine does not hate me. I was hoping we could get along. I must admit to a fear of speaking with her now. Before, when she did not know I was your princess, I felt as though we might become friends. Now I am not so sure.”

“Salina, you worry about the silliest things,” Prince Albert said, barely containing a laugh. “If I know Jasmine, she won’t be able to hate you, even if she wanted to.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. One of the reasons I mistook her for you was the kindhearted nature you both share.”

Princess Salina smiled and together they walked hand in hand back to the main hall of Castle Albreton, where duties, beasts, friends and dragons awaited them.