A heavy, impenetrable grey mist hung over the graveyard. According to Professor Magdat, that was a normal occurrence. Thank the gods she was willing to help me with all of this, because in addition to being a powerful Necromancer, she was also probably one of the few people alive who had actually seen the rebirth spell performed before. Necromancer warlords aren't known for their generosity, and generally don't spend their time performing such involved rituals for someone else's benefit. 

Finally, I uttered the last stanza of the long, complicated spell, and light flowed out of the Dragonheart's mouth in a thousand different streams. The bits of light all settled on the individual graves... and began to pulse and throb. Somehow I hadn't messed it up! One would think that my throat would be sore after speaking for three straight months, but instead it was just numb. In fact, I coudn't feel any part of my body. Every part of me was made of jelly. With the spell done, I dropped the Dragonheart and collapsed into the grass, unable to move my legs.

"What's wrong with him?" General Fleiros growled. "Did something go wrong with the incantation?" I tried to roll over to look at him, but none of my muscles working. Well, this is frustrating.

"It's just a side effect of the nourishing spells," I heard Professor Magdat explain. "They wear off rather suddenly. Help him, please." A bony foot stepped into the grass near my head as some of her minions came close. Their skeletal hands dragged me upright and held me in place, bringing Professor Magdat's sexy blonde figure into view. The grizzled general was standing next to her, stroking his long grey beard. I blinked rapidly, clearing my vision. I had been able to see during the chanting but it was like my mind just blocked everything out. It was all a haze. 

"I'm fine," I managed to croak. Feeling was already returning to the tips of my fingers; it was like coming in to sit by the fire after a night out in the snow. 

"Let's hope this worked, Necromancer." He was still refusing to use my name. "Otherwise..."

"Yes, yes. You'll banish my soul with the light of a thousand suns. I know." He'd reiterated that point a number of times during our negotiations. Strength returned to my feet, and I shook my skeleton supporters loose and managed to stand on my own. "I did my best, General."

"BEST," Mog agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

"He really did do well, General." Professor Magdat beamed at me. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought he'd gone to some sort of Necromancer Academy. Probably had a good teacher, too." That finally got the old man to crack a smile. 

A dark silhouette loomed out of the mist. Professor Magdat, General Fleiros and I immediately forgot our conversation and turned our attention toward the graveyard. Skip?

The figure came closer... close enough to realize that it was just a Paladin soldier, still wearing golden armor with a hole torn through the center by an ax. But the skin underneath was perfectly smooth and healed: he was as good as new. I gave a disappointed sigh; not Skip. But General Fleiros stepped forward with his arms spread wide and a triumphant grin on his face. "Justithas! You made it!"

The soldier looked dazed, pressing his hands to his chest. "What in the..." His fingers explored the jagged edges of the broken armor. "I... did I die?" His eyes fell upon me and suddenly widened. "Did you... a Necromancer, General?"

General Fleiros wrapped him in a hug and thumped him heartily on the back. "Yes, a Necromancer." For once, the word wasn't loaded with loathing and disgust; just gratitude. "It's good to see you again, brother." He turned towards me, still embracing his comrade, and I could just barely see the twinkle of a tear in his eyes. Our gazes met, and he mouthed: "Thank you, Winston."

More figures emerged. A dark-haired Cleric in blood-stained white robes. A paladin so tall that General Fleiros had to hug the man around the midsection. Another knight whose armor was riddled with holes from arrows. All of them clustered around their leader, each waiting for their own hug and an explanation of how this had come to pass. 

I scanned every face coming from the mist, and was constantly disappointed. What was taking her so long?

Professor Magdat laid a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure she's coming." I nodded, not wanting to avert my eyes for even a second. The crowd around General Fleiros continued to grow, and the tears were flowing freely now. 

A figure from within the haze took a hesitant step forward. Too short to be a Paladin knight. It took another step closer, enough for me to see that it wasn't wearing the bulky plate armor of the Paladin order. Another step, and I could see a crop of short, curly dark hair. "Skip?" 

"Winston?" the figure answered. 

Before I could run over and sweep her off her feet, Mog thundered forward and jumped straight over my head. In one smooth motion, he plucked her off the ground and hugged her close to his chest. His enormous feet stamped the ground, narrowly avoiding the Paladins still streaming out of the mists. Wouldn't that be perfect, I thought to myself. After months of work to resurrect the Paladins, Mog kills one before he can even make it out of the gates. 

"SKIP!" Mog's massive arms were wrapped around her so tight that I could only barely see the top of her curly hair poking out. "BACK!"

I heard a muffled response from her, but was unable to discern the words. But it caused Mog to giggle and hug her tighter. Finally she said something else that convinced Mog to put her down, and we found ourselves face to face again. "Winston, is it really you?"

I could only nod, and before I knew it, her arms were around my neck. I took a deep breath; she even smelled the same. Her soft cheek brushed against mine as she whispered: " I can't believe it!" She continued holding me tight even as more Paladins streamed out of the mist around us and into the crowd around General Fleiros.

After an eternity, she took a step back. "What happened? I remember being stabbed..." Her hands gingerly felt the area of her chest where the sword had poked through. She seemed shocked to find that the hole there was healed. "I died, didn't I?"

I nodded, and she shook her head in disbelief. She glanced to and fro and seemed to notice the Paladins for the first time. "What happened? I suppose this means that you killed Amcerlizar?"

"ME!" Mog shouted, pointing to the chest where a few dried bits of blood still remained. Unfortunately for all of us, the ogre didn't bath very often.

"We did it," I answered her. "Mog and I. And, all of these Paladins helped too. A little bit, at least."

She smirked. "I was wondering why they were here." Skip took in the sight of the Dragonheart, still laying abandoned in the grass like a discarded piece of rubbish. Most Necromancers in my position would never let it out of their grasp. The gem was dull now that no one was holding it. "Well... how? I mean, we barely had a plan before I died, and that all went to ruin pretty quickly. And you just came up with a plan in a..." She was about to say 'day,' but her face grew troubled. "Wait a second. What month is it? How long have I been dead?!" 

I laughed. "No, you're right. It actually was just a day. We went to..."

"Skip?" A deep voice came booming out from the mists.

Across from me, Skip froze still as a statue. Her mouth hung open mid-breath, and her eyes were wide. "Darion?" she whispered.

I sighed. A big part of me was hoping that Professor Magdat would be wrong and that a leg bone wouldn't be enough. Or that the Paladins had done something to the body when they killed him. But of course I wouldn't be that lucky. Skip completely forgot my existence the moment she heard that voice, and went dashing back into the mist. I turned away, with no desire to watch them hug and kiss. No matter how happy I was to see her reunited with the love of her life, it still didn't feel particularly great for me. 

"You did the right thing," Professor Magdat whispered to me.

"Yeah..." That didn't really cheer me up very much.

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

That actually got a hint of a smile out of me. "Yeah," I answered. 

Skip led her husband by the hand out of the mists, beaming wildly. She had become a whole different person, practically prancing through the grass. Seeing her so overjoyed actually did make me feel better about the decision; deep down, that was really all I wanted. "Winston, Mog: I'd like you to meet my husband, Darion."

He stepped out from behind her. His hair, fiery red and wavy, was about shoulder length. A few locks fell across his face, leaving only one of his piercing green eyes unobscured. A smattering of freckles crossed his nose and cheeks, and he had a warm, friendly grin on his face. But it was difficult to see under the great bushy beard and mustache. Thankfully, Professor Magdat had the foresight to leave some clothes near where we'd placed his leg bone. "Pleasure!" he boomed, though he did a double-take upon seeing Mog lean down for a greeting. I guess that Skip met her ogre companion after her husband's death. But to his credit, he didn't seem the least bit intimidated and eagerly grabbed Mog's finger to shake.

"WOW," I blurted out. "You are not what I expected."

Oh, did I not mention that he was only about three feet tall? Yeah, turns out that Darion was a dwarf. Must have slipped Skip's mind when she was telling me about him. Both she and Professor Magdat glared at me. Ok, maybe that was a little insensitive.

I leaned down and shook his hand. "Errr... I mean, nice to meet you, Darion."

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The end!!! 

I hope you liked this last chapter. Writing the 'reveal' about Darion's stature was difficult, so I hope that it was as much a surprise for you all as it was for Winston. But I thought it would be a nice silly little twist to end the book that was pretty lighthearted for most of the beginning. 

Also: don't unfollow me just yet, because there is an awesome epilogue coming soon too! So stay tuned!