A Month of Midnights
XIV

Walking through the blue barrier felt like being punched in the gut and hurled over the side of a mountain. Between that and the rich foods I feasted on last night, I dropped to my knees and emptied my stomach in a very unattractive manner. I could feel my face burning from both exhaustion and from the remnants of last night’s magic. My skin was already turning a light green hue, but no one had commented on it so far this morning. I wiped my mouth and hands on some moss covered stones and reluctantly looked back up. Thankfully, no one was really paying attention to me, not even Rudy. What are they all staring at? I wondered grumpily. I wobbled back up to my feet, and it all made sense. We were at the Writer’s castle.

Er, um, cottage.

There was nothing glorious or frightening about the Writer’s place of residence. On the contrary, it looked something like the house little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother would live in. It was a larger cottage, but it had a friendly, quaint feel to it. It had a thatched roof with vines of little pink flowers cascading down from it. The windows had decorative shutters, and a stone path with small rose bushes on either side of it lined the way to the front door. Little ponds with bright green lily pads seemed to be all over the open grass, and I even saw a few bright orange fish swimming in them.

“You all right?” Rudy finally asked.

“I am now,” I muttered. We approached the dark wooden door and waited. No one dared to knock.

“Wait here,” Dane spoke abruptly. He turned away from us and walked around the side of the house, disappearing from view all together. Just as I was contemplating whether to sit down or not, the door swung eerily open. Without hesitation, Upright walked in, and Minnie flew in after him. Rudy looked to me, and we walked in together.

It was surprising how much the Writer’s home looked like mine. There was simple furniture, a fireplace, and a few strange trinkets on the shelves that look freshly dusted. I stepped into a hallway to my left, and I saw it went on longer than I realized. There were dozens and dozens of rooms on either side of the hall, each with a wooden plank hanging from its door knob. I looked at the room closest to me and noticed a few words carved onto the dangling plank.

The Princess and the Pauper.

I looked at another door’s plank.

The Elf King.

“Each of these rooms is for a fairy tale,” I said aloud. The others crowded around me.

“I didn’t know that many fairy tales were written,” Upright said.

“Look, lots of the doors are closed,” Minnie said as she began to fly deeper into the hall.

“The closed ones must be the ones they’ve stopped retelling,” Rudy concluded. He was right. All the open doors had planks that read Little Red Riding Hood or Rapunzel or other well known titles. I even found my Story’s door farther down. I peered inside the open room but found that all that was in it was a chair and a desk with a copy of the Story resting on the seat. Reports from the other three confirmed this was the same for all the open rooms. We continued further down the hallway, reading planks and discovering which Stories were still being retold and which had been closed. Some titles I didn’t even recognize, and from the looks of the doors, they hadn’t been opened in a very long time.

“The cottage didn’t look this long from the outside,” Upright grumbled.

“Must be magic,” was all I could offer as a response. We reached the very end of the hallway where an unmarked door stood facing us broodingly.

“Should we open it?” Minnie asked. No one replied. I finally mustered up a small ounce of courage and opened the door myself. After being temporarily blinded by the bright outside light, it became clear there was nothing strange on the other side of the door. It had just been an exit out of the cottage.

“Ah, I see you gave yourselves a tour of the place! I’m sorry I couldn’t, but I had to settle down Mansi. She really is excited to meet you all. We’ve been waiting for you since the beginning of the Month of Midnights!” a voice said perkily. I realized we were all still crammed in the doorway, and I gently nudged Upright and Rudy forward.

Closing the door behind me, I asked to whoever was in the trees, “Are you the Writer?”

“One and only!” came the bubbly reply. A short figure, not much taller than Upright, hobbled toward us from the trees. He wore a black cloak with a long, draping hood that covered his eyes completely. Though his vision was obstructed by the hood, he made good time reaching us. He stuck out his hand to no one in particular.

“Please to meet you,” he said as he shook Rudy’s hand first.

“It’s polite to look people in the eyes, you know,” Upright gibed as he took his turn shaking the Writer’s hand.

“What do you-oh! It’s this blasted hood. Every time I put it on my head, it falls over my eyes. I’ve learned to see through it just fine, but I understand I must look strange. Here, is this better?” the Writer asked as he pushed his hood down to his shoulders. Seeing the Writer’s face warmed my heart unexpectedly. He was bald with rosy cheeks and a button nose. His smile made him seem perfect for the role of Happy in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. His eyes were round and intelligent, rimmed by circular spectacles that dangled on the tip of his nose. He looked exactly as a writer should.

“Pleased to meet you, Blyss, Rudy, Theodore, although I’ve heard you prefer Upright, and Minnie, dear! How much taller you’ve grown since last I’ve seen you!” exclaimed the Writer.

“You recognize me?” Minnie asked in shock.

“Of course! Don’t you remember me? You were a wee little thing when you flew away from your village. I found you on the forest floor, helpless and dazed. Probably saved your life even,” he reminded her.

“So it was you! I knew you had to be the Writer!” Minnie said proudly.

“Do you know everyone’s names before they visit here?” Upright snorted. The Writer chuckled merrily.

“Oh, goodness, me, no. What a task that would be! There’s a reason I’m not the Holder of the Histories. But as I’ve said before, I’ve been waiting for you to come. They gave me your name first, Blyss, but then later they told me you had friends coming! My, my, how all the plans changed so quickly.”

“Who told you our names? The Storytellers?” I asked.

“No, not quite, but that doesn’t matter. It’s not that important. What’s important is that we get you fed! It’s almost the supper hour, and you all must be famished!” said the Writer heading for the door. None of us moved.

“Come on, then! If you want an old man’s help, you must first indulge the old man,” he chuckled as he led us back inside. Rudy grabbed my wrist as we walked back in.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” he whispered carefully. I nodded.

“It means somebody already knew I’d be coming into Istoria,” I said with shivers crawling down my spine.

“And it means they’ve been watching you too,” Rudy finished. “How else would they know the rest of us joined you?” The nausea from my earlier puking suddenly returned. The Writer didn’t seem like the suspicious type, but he mentioned an anonymous third party that was keeping tabs on me. Was it the Council of Royals? The Madmags? Whoever they were, they had their eyes trained on me, and they were updating the Writer as well. But why? What made me so important?

The Writer had us circle around the table we saw in the first room. With the snap of his fingers, a large feast was set before us. It was the same spell Minnie had used before in the forest, but with all his omnipotent magic, the Writer didn’t even break a sweat. While the others dug in greedily, I merely picked over my food and took small bites. Part of it was that I had already thrown up any appetite I had, and I also couldn’t shake the underlying insecurity I felt whenever the Writer talked. He seemed so kind and dapper, but I was unsure if I trusted him.

The Writer made trivial conversation as we dined. Since he had our names in advance, he had time to learn all about our pasts. He asked about Rudy’s parents and how Jamie was reacting to being selected for the Istorian guard.

“Oh, he’s ecstatic,” said Rudy. “Wish I could go with him!” The Writer laughed this off as a joke, but only I knew the truth beneath it. The Writer asked if Upright was surprised to hear his name called on the Day of the Choosing. Upright gave a generic answer and then tried to hint to him about his tall height for a dwarf, but the Writer brushed it off as yet another joke.

“So, Mr. Writer,” said Minnie from above with a faery sized plate in her hand, “who exactly is this Mansi we keep hearing of?” At the mention of Mansi, the Writer’s jolly eyes widened ten times larger.

“Oh, Mansi, she is my darling pet. She means the world to me! She keeps this old fool from getting lonely,” he said with a wide smile.

“What type of animal is she?” I asked.

“Animal?” the Writer laughed. “Mansi’s no animal.” The rest of us exchanged quizzical looks. “She’s a plant,” the Writer explained. Upright suppressed a laugh very poorly. I even saw a snicker at the corner of Rudy’s mouth. Only Minnie and I could manage passive looks on our faces.

“Oh, what sort of plant?” I asked pleasantly.

“Bean stalk,” the Writer gleamed proudly. “But she wanted big flowers real badly, so I cast a spell to give her a sunflower face.” While Chorio is scraping along between each retelling, I thought, the Writer is using his magic to genetically enhance his plant. Isn’t that wonderful.

I winced. It was this kind of thinking that got me in this mess in the first place.

“Where is Mansi, then? I’d love to meet her,” Minnie said genuinely. The Writer looked up at her.

“She’s rather large, I’m afraid, so she stays outside. We’ll meet her tonight when we get down to business.”

“Do you think we’ll finish before midnight?” I inquired. At this the Writer finally hesitated.

“Well, we might, er, that is if we-well, we’d have to…”

“There isn’t enough time for all of us, is there?” I said setting down my silverware. “We took too long to get here.” The Writer looked at his plate solemnly.

“It isn’t your fault, you know. It really is cruel that villains have to go through more steps to replace me. That rule was set up by the first Writer, and I can’t do much to change that.”

“Wait, wait, there were other Writers?” Upright asked angrily.

“Yes. I am third one to take on the position,” he answered.

“Where do you get the next Writer? Chorio?” Upright continued to question. The Writer shook his head.

“No, no. When I’m much older, I’ll use a very old and powerful spell to create my successor. You see, Writers are almost entirely made of pure magic. Thankfully, a tiny part of us isn’t which allows us to breathe Istorian air. You see, if we were made of pure magic, how could we breathe something that wasn’t?”

“So why isn’t there enough time to help all of us?” Rudy asked, getting us back to the important topic.

“Well, I imagine you’ve seen the rooms, no?” All of us nodded. “It’s really a long and tiring process. The physical change must happen out at the Enchanted Annulus, but the written change has to happen all the way back in one of the rooms. It’s a lot of running back and forth and writing, especially for all four of you.”

“Then let’s get started now!” Rudy insisted. The Writer shook his head sadly. He looked directly at me as he spoke.

“There’s another thing I haven’t told you yet. I’m under strict order not to start until 11:30 pm tonight.”

“What? By whose authority? You’re the Writer! Who could possibly control you?” I said as I rose from the table.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied, avoiding my gaze.

“11:30? That’s probably gives us enough time for only one of us to be fixed,” said Upright. The Writer’s silence confirmed it. Repeatedly, I asked him who ordered this and why, but every response was, “I’m not at liberty to say.” I slumped back down in my seat and pushed my plate away. There was only one question I had left.

“How do we decide who gets to be fixed?” I asked. No one felt like answering.

“I think I’ll go out and see Mansi. Give you some time to figure things out. You have a few hours,” the Writer mumbled. He stood up and walked back down the long hallway. A few minutes later, I heard a quiet door slam at the other end of the cottage.

“It’s not his fault,” Minnie said quickly. “He’s being forced to do this. You can tell he doesn’t like it either.”

“He’s letting them walk all over him,” Upright humphed.

“No, he’s not,” Rudy defended. “It’s obvious the guy doesn’t like this any more than we do. Whoever is making him do this must be powerful enough for the Writer to adhere to. Which means we should too.” We looked among each other.

“So who gets the Writer’s help?” Upright finally asked. Again, we were all mute.

“I don’t need it,” Minnie said quietly. She fluttered down to stand at the center of the table. “I didn’t really want him to change me anyways.”

“You sure, Minnie? What about your chances at a Story?” asked Upright. Minnie shook her head and caught my glance.

“This is all the adventure I could have hoped for,” she said. She wiped a tear away before it could roll down her cheek.

“Thank you, Minnie. You’ve been a great guide,” said Rudy kindly.

“Well, that leaves us three,” Upright continued. I looked down at my lap. Upright and Rudy both had genuine glitches. I didn’t. I swore to myself I’d never become Maleficent after what happened yesterday, but now it seemed I didn’t have a choice. They deserved help far more than I did.

“One of you should get it,” I said. “I don’t have glitch like you two.” Rudy looked at me furiously.

“What are you talking about? You deserve this just as much the rest of us,” he refuted.

“No, I don’t. Someone needs to be Maleficent, and it appears that’s going to have to be me. Unlike me, neither of you will be able to perform your Stories adequately if your magic isn’t working. So one of you should take it,” I said firmly.

“No.” Rudy looked me dead in the eyes. “I won’t take anything.”

“Fine, then,” I replied. “Upright will.” I expected Upright to be pleased, smug even, but he only seemed to be caught off guard.

“Well, are...are you sure? I mean, it’s just a few inches…”

“Yes, I’m sure. Apparently no one else wants the opportunity, so it’s yours,” I reiterated. Before more could be said, the Writer abruptly materialized right by my chair.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion, and I thought my input might be of use,” he said sunnily.

“You were listening to our conversation from all the way outside?” asked Upright skeptically. The Writer blushed.

“Magic can be quite useful when trying to eavesdrop,” he admitted. “Well, anyways, I think you should know, Upright, that the dwarf maximum height was raised two and one quarter inches as of four months ago. The Council of Royals is still in the process of updating the regulation books and properly distributing them. Perhaps the standards you read were from an outdated book. I don’t think the Holder has even received the most updated information yet.” Upright’s face became blank.

“What?” was all he could say.

“You’re short enough, Upright!” the Writer repeated happily. I could see the gears turning in the dwarf’s head. All his bitterness from before had been for absolutely nothing.

“Great, so Blyss can have her magic removed, and we all live happily ever after,” said Rudy.

“No, Rudy can have his magic fixed, and then we all live happily after,” I retorted. Rudy ignored me and turned to the Writer.

“Did these people mention anything specific about who you had to help after 11:30?” he inquired.

“No, unfortunately. All I was told was to not commence offering any of my services to your party until after 11:30 tonight, and I was to let you decide amongst yourselves who would receive my help,” answered the Writer. Rudy raised his eyebrows at me as if to say, Okay, your move.

“Do you know what time it is?” I asked the Writer. He produced a small watch and chain from his cloak pocket.

“Just after 6:45,” he replied.

“So what do we do for five hours?” I followed up.

“Well, Mansi eats at eight. Feel free to stroll the place. There’s a library in the Beauty and the Beast room. Time’ll fly, don’t worry. Things always move a bit fast here,” he assured me. I nodded quietly. With that, the Writer vanished away just as quickly as he came.

“Blyss, why won’t you take the Writer’s help?” Rudy asked.

“Because you’re the one who actually needs it,” I repeated.

“I haven’t been a horse for a while. My glitch probably worked itself out,” he reasoned.

“What if it comes back in the middle of your Story? You can’t risk that.”

“But we all know you’re not meant be Maleficent, right?” said Rudy looking around the table. Both Minnie and Upright nodded in agreement.

“I swear, Rudy, if you don’t take the Writer’s help yourself, I’ll stop suppressing my magic and let Maleficent get the job done right this time,” I threatened.

“Don’t you ever say anything like that again, Blyss Bannon!” Rudy shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“You don’t get to make my decisions for me!” I argued back.

“Yes, I do when you act insane like this!” I grit my teeth.

“Upright, Minnie, could you both step outside for a minute?” I whispered codly. They did so very quickly.

“Blyss, I can’t let you just throw your life away for me,” Rudy said first.

I responded, “And I can’t let you risk yours so I could potentially have mediocre one.”

“Oh, stop being so noble!” Rudy stood up from his seat and began pacing.

“I could say the same for you!”

“See, that’s your problem. You’re so focused on everyone else, you forget to take care of yourself!” Rudy threw his hands up in the air.

“I’m done thinking about myself, Rudy. It’s lonely,” I said. “And you’re the one with an actual future ahead of you, so with every bit of my power, I’m gonna make sure it’s safe. Besides, there’s no guarantee the Writer will even help my case so why waste the time?”

“Stop it!” Rudy turned and pointed to me. “You’re the one who’s getting the Writer’s help. End of story.”

“No!” I swatted his finger away and stood up. “You are!”

“Wrong, try again.” I clenched my hands so tightly my knuckles began to bulge out of my papery white skin.

“Fine. I’ll just have to live up to what I say.” I summoned the burning back. I was secretly terrified, for I could already hear her maniacal laughter again.

“Blyss, no!” Rudy yelled, and he raised his hand to release his own magic. In self defense, I sent back my own beam, and the two collided in the middle. Both of us were paralyzed, our beams fighting against each other to reach the other person.

“That’s right, you’re not the only one with magic,” Rudy sniped. I didn’t care what he said though. I was already too worried when I saw him begin to change. I ceased my beam and let his magic hit me in the shoulder. The impact sent me flying into the wall, but it was not my own well being that I was concerned with. As Rudy rushed to help me up, he doubled over in pain and fell to the floor. I hurried to his side.

“Rudy, you need to calm down!” I instructed. The thin white hairs began growing rapidly all over his face in arms. His fingers were quivering and turning grey like the hoof of a horse. Bestowed magic required great amounts of emotions to be truly activated; this I had already found out before. Rudy, full of anger and frustration, used his own magic to counter mine but wasn’t prepared to unexpectedly turn back into his animal form. He hadn’t mastered control over it yet.

“Blyss, get away,” he ordered angrily.

“You’re not going to transform, Rudy. Not if you rein it back in. Calm yourself down. Control the magic,” I said in a composed voice. If I didn’t sound panicked, then hopefully he wouldn’t be either.

“What are you talking about? Do you see this?” he said holding up his arm. It was completely covered in short white hair. I took hold of his hand gently.

“This is how you control magic. This is how you suppress it until you’re ready to call it back up again. Keep yourself in check. Think of something soft and gentle. Something that’s calming. You have to listen to me, Rudy,” I said fighting to keep my voice even for him. I closed my eyes and listened to his breathing steady. All was silent. I matched my inhales and exhales with his. Slowly, I began to feel the horse hair fade away, and I soon I was touching human skin again.

“Is this what you do? To summon your magic...and to push it back?” I heard Rudy ask quietly. I lifted my eyelids up and saw he was normal again.

“Yes,” I answered. “When you want to use your powers, you have to rile up your emotions and calm yourself down when you’re done. But if your emotions are negative, well, then it’s harder to control. That’s how Maleficent almost got me. I was consumed by my own frustration and pain.” Rudy sighed and put his head on my shoulder.

“I have a lot to learn.”

“It’ll be easier once your glitch is removed,” I couldn’t help but add.

“Careful,” chuckled Rudy, “if you make me mad, I’ll turn into a horse for real this time.” He was pleased that I laughed at this.

“Well, I guess we wouldn’t want that,” I admitted. Rudy lifted his head from my shoulder and looked at the wall I had crashed into. All the pretty little trinkets placed on shelves had fallen and smashed.

“We can’t go more than a few days without fighting, can we?” he said sadly. “Maybe it’s good there’s no future for us.” I’m pretty sure I could hear my heart tear into two.

“No,” I said, “we only fight because we’re worried about the other. If we lived a normal, boring life in Chorio, we’d be-”

“Perfect.”

“Well, maybe not perfect, but perhaps pretty close.” Rudy turned and grabbed my hand.

“Blyss, if I can master changing back and forth, then I won’t even need the glitch to be fixed. It can just become a cool side power I can use in my downtime, which means it’s not really a glitch at all.”

“What you’re actually saying is that you don’t want it fixed,” I said.

“Which means you can go home and live a normal life.” I was trapped staring into his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes, imploring me to agree. I broke away from his pressuring gaze.

“You’ll have to master the glitch,” I repeated. Rudy could tell I was beginning to give in.

“I will,” he said. “Besides, I did mention earlier how cool it would be to turn back and forth from horse to human. In a way, this really benefits both of us.”

“If you say so,” I said. “Let’s go replace Upright and Minnie. They’ll wanna make sure we’re okay.” Rudy nodded and helped me to my feet. We found the dwarf and faery out by the front door kneeling over one of many fish ponds. They looked at us curiously as we approached them.

“So, who won the fight?” Upright asked. Rudy pointed to me just as I pointed to him.

“Well, she’s the one who ended it,” said Rudy.

“But he’s the one who’s getting his way,” I added. Upright furrowed his brow.

“Okay, maybe I should rephrase the question. Who’s getting the Writer’s help tonight?”

“She is,” Rudy answered.

“Hm. I guess it’s good I didn’t risk anything, cause I was betting on you to win, Blyss,” he smirked.

“Upright,” chided Minnie. I rolled my eyes. We decided to spend at least a few hours just reading outside. I went back inside to retrieve several books from the library the Writer had mentioned. It was nowhere as grand as Queen Golde’s, but it contained almost every fairytale imaginable. I grabbed Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and Cinderella so we could all hear our Stories one last time. I had forgotten that only I knew what Rudy’s actual assigned role was, so it took a little while for Rudy to explain to Minnie and Upright what his Story was and how he came to get his horse glitch. Once they were brought up to speed, we settled ourselves around the pond as I read aloud each Story. It was strange how peaceful it became inside that magic barrier. The forest had been frosty, cold, and cloudy all day, but inside the blue wall, it was like a breezy, summer evening. No doubt the weather was magically enhanced. One by one, I watched from the corner of my eye as each of my companions drifted away to sleep. We were sitting in lush, tall grass that proved to a lovely pillow to nest into. The warm winds were their blankets, and the gurgling of the fish was their lullaby. My narration of their futures became just another sound of nature. When Rudy, the last one to lay down, had been asleep for about half an hour, I closed my book and relaxed down myself. I stared up at the billowy, orange clouds that mirrored the color of the sunset. It was easy to be lost in this paradise and forget about everything that would happen tonight. Exhaustion got the better of me, and I fell into sleep gratefully. To my surprise, no nightmares haunted me.

It was pitch dark when Rudy woke me up, yet it still felt warm like the afternoon. He was kneeling over me, the three books in his hand, and his other hand was gently brushing the hair out of my face.

“It’s just after eight o’clock,” he said softly. “I think you’re gonna want meet Mansi.”

“Where are the others?”

“Feeding Mansi her sweetspray,” he chuckled.

“You sounded like Dane for a minute,” I joked.

“I don’t even know where Dane is anymore.” I didn’t either. Since he had walked around the side of the house, the whereabouts of the future Prince Philip had been completely unknown.

“Hmm...how long have you been up?” I asked as I sat up.

“Long enough to kiss you while you were sleeping.”

“What?” I could feel my head begin to spin already.

“I’m kidding,” laughed Rudy. “Come on, let’s go.” He helped me to my feet and led me through the dark and up to the cottage. We walked back through the hallway that was now lit by candles mounted on the walls between each doorway. Rudy opened the very last door, and we stepped outside again. I could see several lights illuminating the space just behind the wall of trees. Carefully navigating over the little hill and through the trees, we came to a large circular opening that I soon learned was the Enchanted Annulus. Torches as tall as poles lined the outer rim of the stone circle. At the far end of the circle was a huge clay pot that stood six feet into the air. Rising from the inside of the pot was a thick green stem with leaves as long as me. I followed the meandering stem as it towered higher and higher, but I could not replace its end.

“Is that Mansi?” I asked Rudy.

“Yup,” he replied. Standing by the base of the pot was the Writer, Upright, and Minnie. In Upright’s hand was a rusty metal watering can whose contents were beginning to slosh around and trickle down its sides. The Writer saw us and eagerly waved us over.

“Come, come!” he chirped. Rudy and I walked across the Annulus to join the rest of them. Now standing much closer to Upright, I could smell something strong and sugary, so much so that it began to burn the inside of my nose.

“Is that the sweetspray?” I asked with slight disgust. Upright nodded, his face confirming his own discomfort too.

“Mansi prefers sugar water versus plain water. It makes her nectar more tasty come springtime,” explained the Writer. He then gave a two note whistle which echoed up the beanstalk. After a few seconds’ silence, a slow, distant groaning replied. I watched curiously as the stalk began to bend and twist, and the sound of rustling leaves grew louder and louder. Before I realized it, I was face to face with a giant sunflower. Wait, a sunflower on a beanstalk? Oh, that’s right. It’s a magical beauty enhancement. Strange, I thought as the sunflower observed me oddly. Though it had no eyes, the sunflower was animated in such a way it could be mistaken for a silly puppy or kitten. The Writer was not wrong in calling Mansi a pet.

“Sweetspray time!” the Writer trilled. Mansi fluttered her petals excitedly. She made a weird chirping sound that reminded me of a bird’s tweet and a dog’s bark crossed together. Mansi unfurled her longest petal down below the pot and straight in front of Upright.

“What do I do?” Upright asked the Writer.

“Get on!” Upright looked at him doubtfully but carefully crawled on. Cradled in Mansi’s petal, Upright was lifted up just above the pot. “Now pour!” the Writer instructed. Upright leaned over the side of the petal and began to pour the sweetspray onto Mansi’s soil. The watering can was designed in a strange fashion, for when the sweetspray came out, it looked like ocean spray falling down into the dirt. I suppose that’s where the name comes from, I figured.

“Mansi was the beanstalk in Jack and the Beanstalk many retellings ago. But as a seedling she had complications and couldn’t grow high enough for Jack to reach the giant’s castle. So I came in, gave new seeds to Jack, and took home little Mansi. I helped her finally grow up, and I promised her if she reached a certain height, I’d give her the sunflower. She keeps me company on those nights when you always feel just a bit lonely,” spoke the Writer. As Mansi set Upright back down on the ground, the Writer said, “Now we wait a few minutes and let that soak, and then we’ll give her some more.” Mansi turned to me and offered her petal.

“What does she want?” I asked. The Writer chuckled.

“Probably to stargaze. She loves taking people up. She offers it to every guest who comes here during the Month of Midnights,” the Writer said warmly. I gingerly stepped onto the sunshine colored petal and sat down. I gripped the petal’s edges as it curled around me, and I sat breathlessly as it lifted me up into the night sky. I soared past the treetops and even a few straggly clouds before Mansi slowed to a stop. I had the perfect view of the bright, white moon that looked back at me with delight.

“Thank you, Mansi,” I said. The hybrid sunflower-beanstalk purred in reply. “I don’t suppose you could bring the others up with me? I mean, I understand if that might be too heavy-” Mansi was already descending at lightning speed back to the forest floor. She unrolled two more petals for Upright and Rudy, and Minnie took a seat on my shoulder. In mere minutes, I was back up looking at the same starry night but with my loved ones beside me.

“It’s been a good run,” Upright said in genuine satisfaction.

“It has, hasn’t it?” I agreed. It was one of those moments were something heartfelt should have been said or confessed, or where everyone broke out in tears. But this time no one did. We all had already cried. We all confessed ourselves at some point. Those minutes we spent looking at the endless sky were not some final pinnacle in our relationship as a group. It was more of a quiet conclusion. We had successfully bonded; we survived the Month without losing our insanity, and in the midst of all of it, we had managed to emerge as an odd sort of family. Now that we were going our own ways, we had to come to terms with our separation but knew the memory of our time together would not be forgotten. So as we sat there, we were not mourning the loss of each other but perhaps appreciating what little time we were lucky enough to receive. Ideally, I would’ve ended everything right there, on that quiet but long overdue moment.

But as fate would have it, my own tale was far from finished.

Mansi eventually dropped us back down. Back in the cottage, the Writer made us another meal of a simple chicken and barley stew, this time made by hand to consume more time. The stew was much gentler on my stomach, and I actually felt revitalized after eating. By the time our meal was finished, it was just after 10:30, leaving us roughly an hour to relax. I returned to the same library in the room marked under The Beauty and the Beast and searched for something new to read. It didn’t take me long before I found Bluebeard and remembered the vow I made to myself after my horrible time spent at the serial killer’s house. I angrily grabbed the book and returned to the main room. I sat down in a huff, leafed through the story for about five minutes, then began to read aloud.

“There was, some time ago, a gentleman who was very rich. He had a fine town and country houses, his dishes and plates were all of gold or silver, his rooms were hung with damask, his chairs and sofas were covered with the richest silks, and his carriages were all gilt with gold in a grand style…” The Writer looked at me oddly.

“Bluebeard, eh? Interesting choice,” he commented.

“Hm, let’s skip ahead to my favorite part,” I said spitefully. “...she then, with a trembling hand, put the key into the lock, and the door flew straight open. She at first could see nothing; but in a short time she saw that the floor was covered with clotted blood, on which the bodies of several dead women were lying. These were all the wives whom Bluebeard had married, and killed one after another.” I looked the Writer dead in the eyes.

“What a dreadful passage, I must say,” the Writer said nervously.

“When was the last time you read Bluebeard?” I inquired. The Writer shifted uncomfortably.

“Not recently, I must admit,” he said.

“Do you know much about the Story?” I asked again.

He laughed uneasily, “Well, yes. I am the Writer after all.”

“So you’re well aware of how many innocent Chorion girls are murdered every retelling of this Story?” I snapped. I almost expected Rudy to stop me then and there for being rude, but I only caught a look of amusement from him out of the corner of my eye.

“I….I know. It’s not my favorite Story either,” the Writer said bitterly. I wasn’t expecting victory so early.

“Then why do you continue to retell it?” I asked. The Writer shook his head.

“I’ve tried to close it, I have. But in order to do so, I must have consent from the Council of Royals and a...a third party. The third party always agreed but not the Council. They say if we keep closing too many Stories, Istoria will become as useless as a broken egg.”

“Then write a new one,” Upright suggested. “You’re called the Writer for a reason.”

“You mean write a new fairytale?” the Writer sputtered in disbelief.

“That’s an excellent idea!” Minnie agreed. “You could start opening up all those closed doors!”

“Well...well, what if the Council rejects the idea? Or my Stories? It’d be humiliating and pointless,” the Writer complained.

“But if it worked?” I begged. “You could stop retelling Stories like Bluebeard. You could write Stories that didn’t kill so many innocent people. You could make even more opportunities for the people of Chorio.” The Writer bit his lip.

“Well, I have been toying with an idea. It’s called The Facade,” he began slowly. We spent the remaining hour hashing out the Writer’s idea. I’ll admit tt actually was an intriguing plot that involved a little boy and a strange forest man defeating a town full of demons. I negotiated with the Writer, and he agreed that after each demon was killed, their evil magic would be expelled, and they’d wake up as a bunch of harmless villagers with enough regular magic to still live in Istoria. This way no one would have to actually die.

“I think the Council will approve of-” the Writer stopped mid sentence.

“Writer? Are you okay?” Minnie asked. The Writer pulled out his watch and stared at it quietly.

“It is time,” he said. “I think we had better head to up to the Annulus now.” We rose from our seats and started walking down the long hallway. I walked a little faster so I was side by side with the Writer.

“Writer, I wanted to apologize about how harsh I was earlier. I didn’t realize you felt the same way about the Story, and I was expecting to have to fight you and-”

“Blyss, my dear, it is okay.”

“But you welcomed us into your home, and I acted like a -”

“I understand, my child,” said the Writer calmly. His bubbly self was nowhere to be found now. “I of all people know that passion is hard to mute.” His choice of words struck me. I vaguely recalled using those exact words when I was speaking to Queen Golde. Perhaps the Writer and I were more alike than I thought.

Silently, we all found our way back to the Enchanted Annulus. Mansi eagerly bent down to watch the scene unfold. “Now,” said the Writer, “which of you has been chosen?” I stepped forward. He nodded. “Just as they predicted.” Before any of us could ask what that meant, the Writer continued on. “The same anonymous source has already informed me of what sort of help you seek. You believe there has been a mistake in the role assignments, and you believe you are not the real Maleficent, therefore wishing for your powers to be revoked?”

“Yes,” I replied timidly. Why does this feel so formal all of the sudden? I wondered.

“It just so happens that you are correct,” said the Writer. “You are not the real Maleficent.”

“Wait, really?” I blurted.

“The real Maleficent is back in Chorio, preparing for her journey into Istoria tomorrow.”

“Then why was she listed as Maleficent too?” Rudy interrupted.

“All will be revealed in due time,” said the Writer. I missed the perky Writer that expressed so much emotion. Since 11:30 had come to pass, he had changed into his more proper self, and I didn’t like it one bit. “For the power to be removed, a reenactment of the villain’s death must take place.” The Writer noticed my frightened face, and for a moment his face softened. “Don’t worry. You won’t actually die.” Then he snapped back. He flicked his wrist, and footsteps could be suddenly heard coming from the forest. Dane reappeared, still glowing blue, and still clutching the Sword of Spoken Truth. Another flick of the Writer’s wrist, and the glow suddenly disappeared, and the old Dane returned. He looked around like a caged animal.

“Wha, where am I...you! You wretched human being! What did you do to me?” Dane began screaming at me. I looked to the Writer for help.

“Dane, calm down. I am the Writer. Before you can become Prince Philip, you must fulfill a simple task. Can you do that?” Dane looked at the Writer suspiciously.

“You’re saying I have to do it?” he asked with narrow eyes.

“Yes, but it is real simple. All you have to do is stab her with your sword,” said the Writer pointing to me. “Consider it practice for the real Story.” Dane looked at me with a rueful grin.

“Well, if all I have to do is kill her, then, of course, I’ll do it,” he smirked. I felt a giant tongue of flames shoot up my body. My magic sensed my hatred and was excited to use it as an advantage.

“Excellent. Now, Ms. Bannon, I’m going to have to ask you to transform into Maleficent’s dragon self,” the Writer instructed me.

“How do I do that?”

“When you summon your magic,” directed the Writer, “focus not on releasing anything from your hands but rather focus on your transformation. Imagine each detail of the dragon and picture it happening to you.” I inhaled slowly and looked to Rudy, Upright, and Minnie. They all looked sick with worry, but none of them stopped me. I avoided especially Rudy’s gaze when I stepped away from them and closed my eyes.

Calling back the hatred Dane had stirred inside me, I could feel myself be burned alive again. I pictured each purple scale of the dragon appear on my skin but nothing happened. “It’s not working!” I called out.

“Think of things that have made you absolutely furious,” I heard the Writer say. Normally, to get the most effective results, I would have thought of something that made me happy. But joy let me control magic, which was not what I needed at that moment. I needed a memory that would unhinge me, make me want to lash out and pulverize anything in sight. I didn’t think anything could ever make me that angry. I searched farther and farther back to replace something that made me outraged, and to my surprise, I actually found something. With my last bit of will power, I forced myself to replay the memory.

It was hard to see at first. There were so many people. These people were shouting, demanding something. I felt my mother’s hand clasp my own and guide me to the edge of the mob. A crying baby was held in her other arm. Leo.

“Blasphemer!” the people roared. “Traitor!” “Lunatic!” All these words were being used to describe my father. My mother was trying to pull us home.

“Blyss, move your feet!” she demanded. We finally made it out of the crowd and were rounding a building when I managed to slip free. “No, Blyss! Come back!” Mother shrieked. I was too young to understand why she wanted me by her side, why she didn’t want me to watch what was happening. I tried to fight my way back through the mob, but no one would let me through. That’s when I saw the ladder leading up to a roof that was mid way through repairs. I scrambled up it anxiously, but I never made it to the top. Halfway up, a light caught my eye. I turned my head for just a moment.

I saw my father kneeling down, his head resting on a wooden block. His hands were tied, and blood was dripping from his mouth and staining his beard. The light came from a reflection off the shiny new axe made just for beheading my father.

It did its job perfectly.

When I finally pulled myself away from the image of my dead father, I realized I was no longer human. The purple scales I had pictured before were now on my skin. My chewed fingernails were now long, black talons. I was towering over the Annulus. With one exhale, fire exploded out of my mouth into the cold, dark sky before me. I could hear the Writer giving Dane instructions on where to stab me with the sword.

Go ahead. Make him work to kill you. It’ll be fun, a new voice said. It sounded like my own but more sinister. Hearing my voice startled me, and I gave in to what I said.

As Dane began to run towards me, I lashed my tail at him and watched him fly through the air with great pleasure. “Ugh!” he shrieked. “Stupid lizard.” He got up and ran towards me again, but this time I sent a wall of flames tumbling down to block him.

“Blyss, you have to let him stab you!” Rudy called up to me.

Don’t listen to him, the voice taunted, he just wants to see you killed. But somewhere inside me, I found the strength to resist this time. I stayed still as Dane ran up to me and thrusted the sword, but it bounced off harmlessly.

“Say a piece of truth!” Rudy, Upright, and Minnie said in perfect unison. Dane looked at the sword unsure.

“Um, princes always are the ones to save the day?” He tried stabbing me again, but nothing happened. “Ogres have genetic hygiene problems!” Again, the sword did not go through.

“Say something meaningful! Something you normally wouldn’t admit,” Upright shouted.

“Self esteem is a joke!” Dane tried again, but the sword did not pierce my skin. Upright clapped his hands over his eyes and shook his head.

Send more fire, the voice cooed. It won’t harm them, just give them a good scare, that’s all. I tried to ignore her, but the longer Dane took, the harder it became.

“My hair looks better now than a month ago!”

“Mr. Greenfield is a closet alcoholic!”

“My mother can’t cook to save her life?”

None of Dane’s “truths” had any effect. I couldn’t fight her any longer. As I prepared to spew more fire, I saw Rudy begin to run to Dane’s side. Dane tried another truth, but the sword did not glow. I exhaled the flames just as I saw Rudy put his hands on the sword with Dane.

Before my fire could harm them, I heard Rudy say, “Evil will not win.”

The sword went clean through me. Suddenly, I was human again with a sword in my side, and I was plummeting back down to the Annulus. I felt Mansi’s soft petal catch me before I hit the ground.

The world was unstable, and all I could discern was the blood oozing from my torso and coloring everything around it a bright crimson red.

Rudy was at my side in an instant.

“Evil will not win,” I repeated weakly. Then my head fell limply in his arms, and his face faded from view.