Power

The look on Slate’s face said it all as Nya stood there with the Heart of Magic tight in her fist. The soldiers’ faces told her that they recognized that it was too late, that they had let the magical gem fall into enemy hands. One of the soldiers held a sword to Slate’s throat, his hands trembling. Nya hadn’t even realized that he was under their control until the tip of the sword pierced his skin, and a tiny droplet of blood rolled down the edge.

“That belongs to me!” An angry voice growled from the crush of troops near the doorway. “Do you honestly think you can just waltz in here and take it from me?”

It was clear, despite his disheveled appearance that the angry man with bedhead shouting at her from across the room was the king of Beelzanborg. He was in the middle of an array of troops who were obviously mean