The ink needed to get inside Dorthea's bloodstream to break the curse. But I doubted she was just gonna let me run up and pour it in a cut.

After pulling the pen out of my pocket, I sucked the ink up inside it and looked around for something to fire my makeshift arrow with. I only had me. And me would have to be enough. With my left wrist burning with Blanc's mark, I called for the water. With my right hand, I pulled some of the green flame. I focused my mind and willed the elements together, like I'd seen both Blanc and Dorthea do. I molded them into the shape of a crossbow. Though I longed for the golden crossbow because my aim sucked, the borrowed magic was the best I could do.

I closed my eyes to block out the people screaming and fighting one another, settling old scores or perhaps taking sides with Blanc-who knew. Ignoring the chaos around me, I heard Verte's parting words from the clearing. "Be yourself. Ink is thicker than blood. Aim true." Opening my eyes again, I let the pen fly loose toward its target. Dorthea.

The pen cut through the distance between us in less time than it takes for a grain of sand to fall. Like a bull's-eye, the sharpened tip pierced through the opal resting on Dorthea's chest. The air thickened, and time seemed to slow as the green in the opal receded, leaving the gemstone dark and empty.

A shockwave threw me to the ground, and time seemed to stop. There was not a sound in all the world. My life had been held inside that stone for long, and I broke it. I waited to die. Yet I felt more alive than ever-felt more myself. I felt for the bond. It wasn't there. All my memories of the Emerald Palace were through my eyes, not that of a princess. I had a sudden disdain for all footwear. When I thought of Kato, I still loved him, yet not with the same breathless abandon. His loss no longer destroyed me, just maimed-and made me determined to kick Morte out and bring Kato back.

The fight with the curse was over. We had won.

With a loud gasp and frenzy of sound, time resumed its pace. I could move again.

"We did it!" I cried, sitting up, excited to see Dorthea without the cursed green in her eyes or her flaming hair.

Dorthea looked like I remembered her growing up, regular hazel eyes and silky, chestnut hair. Except those locks were splayed around her unmoving body. And a silver-and-sapphire-hilted sword pierced through her chest, pinning her to the ground.

"Rule #999: Happily Ever After begins after the villain is defeated, the prince and princess kiss, and the kingdom rejoices. The End."

-Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 1.

37.

Once and Future King.

My feet wouldn't move. My brain refused to believe. My eyes could not block out the truth.

What had I done?

Dorthea lay on the rocky ground, skewered through the chest by a sword-like a flutterbye to a mat. After turning her head slightly, she looked me in the eye. Her mouth moved, but only a gurgling sound came out. Then a cough racked her body, staining her lips red.

The contrast of the blood against her pale skin made my actions real. I ran to her side.

"I'm sorry. Oh Grimm, forgive me. Hang on." I held Dorthea's hand and frantically looked around for Oz. "Help her!" I screamed. Oz stayed where he was, solemnly clasping his hands with a slight nod of his head.

I was about to hurl curses at him when a spark of green wafted in front of my face. Like a will-o'-the-wisp. Then another. I gazed back down at Dorthea, her body slowly breaking up into the green embers.

"Nonononono! You can't leave me too. This is not what I wanted."

Dorthea squeezed my hand, the madness no longer twisting the veins across her face as her lips formed two words before flaking off into green ash.

Thank. You.

And then she was gone. The sword still pierced the ground, but I was left holding empty air as the green embers spiraled upward and floated away.

Chaos still reigned around me on the battleground. The fleeing. The fighting. The fallen.

My hand was on the hilt of the sword before I could think through my actions. I ripped the sword from the shale and laid the blade flat against Oz's bare throat.

"You knew that would happen." It wasn't a question.

"It was the only way. For the story to progress, she needed to-"

"Die?" I rotated the blade, sc.r.a.ping the skin under his chin. "Bring her back."

"I don't have that power. And even if I did, Dorthea is exactly where she needs to be. As are you."

Our scene was drawing in some of the surviving villains and orderlies from the inst.i.tute, but I didn't care. The sword gleamed, bright with my fury and pain.

"You think you get to decide our fates? What..." I tried to catch my breath and stop the sobs from rising up my throat. "What...gives...you...the right? We are free...to choose."

"Never has that been more true. I can't wait to see how this story turns out." Taking a step back, he put a hand to his chest, then kneeled.

As he kneeled before me, I could see the rest of the field around me. Like trees bending to the storm, the orderlies all fell to one knee. Some villains pointed while the most notorious of them glared, their stares sharp as any blade. A murmur of whispers grew into a dull roar. I spotted Hydra and Mordred, the only two who moved toward me.

"Excalibur has been reforged." Mordred's eyes flared as he glanced at the sword that should've been his by right.

I looked at the sword in my hand, which used to be a quill.

The pen is mightier than the sword indeed. I mentally cursed the Storymaker, who merely shrugged before vanishing in a puff of smoke and the scampering of rodent feet.

"The once and future king has appeared to lead us through these dark times," Hydra said, her voice high and lofty. Regal. Gwenevere. As she and Mordred navigated their way through the crowd-villains, creatures, even Mic-fell to one knee in a motion like a wave. Crashing down on me. Threatening to drown me.

The sword in my hand grew heavy, its true weight and burden revealed.

"I'm not-"

Gwen cut me off. "All hail the return of the king!"

The crowd rose to their feet in one motion, crying, "Huzzah!"

I ignored them, rushing to Mordred. "Take it. Please take it. I don't want it."

He stared at me, considering all I offered. Reaching out, Mordred's hand shook, but pulled back before touching Excalibur. "Which is exactly why the sword and its responsibility should be in your possession."

"All I want is to bring back Dorthea and Kato! That's it. I can't lead these people."

Gwenevere closed her eyes and shook her head fiercely. "Then the story ends here. Run and we all die." When she opened her eyes again, they were each a different shade. "Fight and only most will."

I rubbed my forehead. "Thanks for that."

"You won't be alone, Rex," Mordred said. "But a ruler must always stand apart. It is a heavy burden, and only you can decide if you have the strength to bear it." He looked at me, a.s.sessing. Weighing if I had what it took.

I wish I knew.

The cheering had died down while the crowd waited for me to say something. Rot if I knew what. But the expression on most of their faces shook me to my core: hope.

What do I do?

A lone green ember wafted on the breeze.

I raised the glowing sword to the sky and prayed to that single spark that I wouldn't screw up too badly.

The crowd broke into wild cheers of "Long live the king!"

For my part, I only wanted to hurk.

Mordred took my hand and lowered to one knee. "I will stay by your side and ensure the weight of Excalibur does not overtake you as it did Arthur. Child of the trees, my life is yours. As long as you deserve it." Looking up with a wry grin, he whispered amidst the other cheers, a message meant for only me: "Long live the queen."

The End: th-uh /'end/ n. the cessation of a story's narrative; a conclusion, which is really just a different sort of beginning.

-Charlotte Webster's Dictionary of Fairy-Tale Terms.

The long-term care wing of Kansas General was normally the quietest of the entire hospital.

Not today.

A veritable army dressed in white coats and orthopedic shoes rushed back and forth through the corridors, all thanks to the coma patient in 17E who had just woken up.

"Miss...miss. I need you to calm down," the nurse explained, quickly glancing to the door, hoping that the med cart would arrive soon.

The girl in the bed ignored the caregiver and yanked the oxygen tubes from her nose. "Where am I? What's going on?"

A knock sounded on the door. A doctor strolled into the room with a chart in one hand and his other hand behind his back. "Well, h.e.l.lo, Miss Gayle. So nice to see you finally awake."

The girl gasped and put both hands on her chest. She looked down at her bare feet. "They're gone." She groaned.

"I think you're confused. You've been unconscious for a long time. Let me give you a little something to help calm your nerves." The doctor swiftly pulled the syringe from behind his back and stuck it into the IV tube.

The patient clawed at the needle in her arm before the orderlies restrained her. "No, you don't understand. I have to go back. I don't belong here. People need me. I have to save him!"

Looking around the room frantically, the patient searched for a pen and paper.

There was a commotion at the door. A nurse was unsuccessfully trying to keep two people from coming into the room. "I'm sorry, but you can't be in there right now," she said.

"My daughter is in there. You and what army are going to keep me out?" a woman said in a steely tone.

The patient stopped fighting and stared at the middle-aged man and woman who pushed into the room.

"Mom! Dad!" Tears rolled freely down the girl's cheeks.

"Hi, princess," Henry Gayle said and kissed his daughter's hand. "Long time no see."

Then the sedatives took effect, and the world of Rexi, Kato, and the Storymakers became a blur in Dorothy Gayle's mind.

Acknowledgments.

I have to bow down and give eternal thanks to Natalie and the Dalleys, Leslie, Kiara, Phil, Dianne, and my parents, who took turns keeping my kiddos safe and out of my hair so I could wage the never-ending fight with deadlines. I also want to thank my creative crew-Jess, Karen, TJ, Chris, Misty, Phaedra, and Joe-for their ideas and support, telling me when I suck occasionally and reminding me to be myself despite that. Things really went off the rails this year in my life, and I am grateful for the support of my agent, Mich.e.l.le Witte, and my editor, Annette Pollert-Morgan, and everyone at Sourcebooks for yanking me out of the shadows and giving me the support and s.p.a.ce I needed to make this story what it needed to be. Jeff Savage, Jen Nielsen, and slews of other word wizards-your encouragement means everything. And as always, for my family, for putting up with all the voices in my head that compete for my time. I love you all.

"Rule #91: Once the villain is vanquished, they are gone and never coming back to get you. So stop looking over your shoulder, and think happy thoughts!"

-Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 1.

1.

"This is going to pinch a little, Dorothy dear." Lies, I thought as the nurse shoved the needle into my hand. For once, I wanted someone to just tell me the truth. This is going to hurt. The cure sucks and may kill you faster than the cancer. But, hey, if you survive, bald is high fashion, and think of all the money you'll save on hair products.

Yeah, not a chance. The room was all decorated with upbeat cheer in mind, but I had a snarky thought pop into my brain. Looks like a unicorn had thrown up rainbows everywhere. Yeah that about summed it up. The pretty was all just a screen. A desperate plea to stay positive. Gotta keep your spirits up. Gotta look on the bright side. Too bad the dark side will still stab you from behind, whether you look at it or not.

Outside, the weather affirmed my opinion. I'd heard the emergency alert a half an hour ago, the siren cutting into the kids cartoons they insisted on playing. Tornado watch.

A flash of light flared into the room from the window behind me. One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. Four one thousand. Five- Boom.

My hand tingled and burned-a sure sign that the IV had started pumping. Liquid fire seeped through my veins. Meaning the hallucinations weren't far behind. My body felt light and my mind drifted, calling me home to the world I'd written about in my journal. A realm of Story with an Emerald palace. Where Kato was. And Rexi. Verte. Oz. A land that should be full of Happy Ever Afters, but I could already hear their screams drowning out the thunder.

It's not real, I thought. But the wails only got louder in my mind. I could picture where they were coming from. A mountain of bodies thrown into a fire pit to be melted down. My therapist said I have issues. No flippin' joke.

I focused on changing the mental picture, rewriting the story, like Dr. Baum had instructed me to do. A beach. Maybe pretend the rumbling was crashing waves. Despite my efforts, the image of the charred bodies only got stronger. I shook my head. "No it's not real. I am in control."

"You wish," a voice cackled, high pitched and off key. "Or maybe not since that's what got you into this mess."

I jerked my head around, searching the room. The monitors beeped quicker, making music out of my racing pulse. I saw a face and opened my mouth to scream. Then realized it was the mirror. Only for a second the reflection didn't really look like me.

Nonsense. The room was empty. The only sound was the storm outside-wind howling and whipping the rain to beat against the window.

A flare of light. One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. Four- Crack.

Getting closer. As soon as I thought that, the electricity went out. Within seconds, the back-up generator kicked in, powering up the medical devices and emergency hallway lighting. My room remained dark except the soft glow of my monitors.

"h.e.l.lo." I steadied myself on the edge of the bed, leaning out as far as the IV tether would let me. There should be nurses and doctors scrambling in the hallway. But even graveyards had more life in them than this hospital at the moment.

Where had everyone gone?