They get inside the tower without too much trouble. Edward expected some sort of booby trap, but it seems that Ember is confident in the dragon being more than enough to deter potential intruders. The interior of the tower is dark and coated with a thick layer of dust, cobwebs, and the occasional skeleton. Edward is undeterred, and starts to climb the narrow spiral staircase. Nervously, Henry follows after.
They've almost reached the top when Edward passes by an open window and hears an unmistakable shriek.
"Get down!"
He and Henry throw themselves to the floor just as a gout of flame bursts through the window. It's followed seconds later by a claw, which gouges a deep scar into the wall behind them. Henry covers his head, and Edward could swear he hears the boy reciting some kind of prayer. The Prince simply draws his sword and hacks at the claw.
Volon shrieks in pain, and the claw wrenches out of the window. Edward quickly rises to his feet and grabs Henry by the arm. "Come on," he says, "we have to move. It'll be back any second now."
The tower shakes as Volon crashes against it, and Edward stumbles as he races up the rest of the stairs. Another gout of flame bursts through a window behind them. The dragon isn't sure where they are, but it's only a matter of time before it catches on. But the dragon is part of the test, and the solution to the test will naturally be in the princess's own chambers. It would hardly do for Lady Ember's grand plan to get the princess killed, after all.
The door to the princess's chambers is thick, solid, blackened oak - but it's not locked. Edward gives it a good, solid kick, and it flies open, revealing a circular room that's completely at odds with the rest of the tower.
The chamber seems almost like it's been cast out of time. Golden rails support lacy pink curtains. Torches ensconced on the walls blaze brightly, as they must have for the past five centuries without ever once going out. In the center of the room, a golden nightstand sits next to a bed covered in white silks, and on it lies the most beautiful woman Edward has ever seen, deep in sleep.
Princess Elizabeth might be five hundred years old, but she doesn't look a day over twenty five. She wears a beautiful pink silk gown, and her long, raven-black hair is braided with pale flowers. Her face is the picture of serenity.
Another shriek snaps Edward out of his daze. He's here for a reason, after all.
"Your Highness?" Henry asks, "What... what should we?"
Edward releases his squire, and strides forward confidently. Looking down at the princess, he lifts her up with one hand, and kisses her.
The world goes white.