A Month of Midnights
III

His face I did not recognize, but I felt I knew everything about him. I knew every feeling that passed through his heart. Somehow, I was connected to his presence. His face had first appeared in a sort of haze. It had been so dark, but then it began to lighten, and his features came into focus. He looked young and strong, perhaps my age or slightly older. His midnight colored hair curled perfectly and neatly, providing a nice frame for his warm, chocolate eyes and pale face. Mother had warned me about love, how it often is deceiving and confused with physical attraction, but in that moment I forgot it all. His face was gentle and soothing, and I knew if I was standing, I would just as soon sway and fall over again. As the background crisped into view behind him, I noticed it was one I did not recognize. There were small houses and people bustling about. It was a Chorio village, but it was not my own. He was looking somewhere past me in anxious excitement. He walked forward hurriedly, and somehow I followed along. The man walked into a large crowd gathered in the village’s town square. He stood by an older woman and man, and a boy who looked like him but a few years younger. One by one, I saw people leave the crowd and come back in either tears or triumph. An odd feeling washed over me.

Was I in the past?

The man wrung his wrists nervously. He looked behind him and stared at the large trees that surrounded the village. He looked at them curiously, and I could feel the chill as it ran up his spine. I could hear his thoughts, but they were terribly quiet. I could tell he felt something was wrong. I felt his urge to go help, but he put it away immediately. He remind himself that he couldn’t help the entire world. Still, though he turned back to the crowd, I could sense him longing to go. He’s one of those people with genuinely good souls, I decided. Father would have loved him. I wanted to speak to him, but I found that I couldn’t. The colors from his eyes began to fade, and soon everything I saw was in shades of black and white. His face began to blur, and it melted away back into blackness.

The sounds of an early forest morning became louder in my ears. Disappointment heavied my awakening heart as I accepted the fact that the handsome man young man been but a dream. For the first time since last night, I felt enough strength to lift my eyelids. The light seemed unusually bright, but perhaps that was normal in Istoria. As my eyes adjusted to the daylight, I saw that all that was in front of me was pure white. Am I dead? I wondered. Well, that didn’t take long. My sight grew stronger and detected quickly that the white had a texture to it. It looked like hair, very thin and very short. I scooted my body backwards, and an unanticipated soreness clutched at my muscles. I now saw that the whiteness was indeed hair, and it was on a face of some sort, an animal face. Slowly, I raised my head and met two large eyes. I idiotically screamed.

The face moved back, just as shocked as I was. At least now I was fully conscious and aware of where I was. I was still in Istoria’s forest, right where I had collapsed at midnight. Expect now, a large white horse was in front of me, looking at me as if I was the strange creature out of the two of us.

I tried to stand up too quickly, and my weak limbs gave way. I slammed back down on my butt and yelped in surprise. The horse whinnied gleefully. Great, he’s laughing at me, I thought as I scowled at the horse. The animal silenced. “You think I’m funny, huh?” I asked. The horse shook his head up and down slowly. “I guess that’s a yes,” I said with a sigh. It was then that it hit me, and my curiosity heightened. “Wait, you understood me?” I asked leaning forward. The horse did not move. I saw its knees tense and lock. I slowly got on my own knees and inched forward. The horse stepped back. “No, no I won’t hurt you,” I said quickly. The horse looked at me carefully but did not come closer. In a last ditch effort to befriend the creature, I grabbed my basket and pulled out a small slice of crusty bread. I broke it into crumbs and held them out in my palm. The horse warily stepped closer. It gave in to its hunger and nibbled from my hand. Its tail swished in delight. A small giggle escaped my lips as its tongue tickled my hand. The horse whinnied again in laughter. As it licked the last crumbs, I slowly placed my free hand on its forehead. As I did so, my world suddenly blackened again. I saw blurs of a village and people rush past my eyes. I felt the horse pull away from my hand, and the village disappeared. I opened my eyes and gasped. I saw distress in the horse’s eyes as it backed up away from me.

“Please don’t go! I-I’m all alone,” I stuttered. The horse approached me and sniffed my hair. I looked up at him wearily. Unexpectedly, he licked my cheek and neighed merrily. Do horses normally lick people? I couldn’t help but wonder. With intense effort, I pushed myself onto my legs. I wobbled a bit, but the horse stood near me for support. “Now what should I call you?” I asked the animal. The horse almost instantly began to drag its hoof through the dirt. I watched him quizzically, wondering what a horse could possibly draw in the dirt. He finished and stepped back, waiting for me to read. I examined the markings in the dirt. “You did this?” I asked in disbelief. The horse snorted. I looked back at what the letters spelled.

Rudy.

I crouched down to make sure it was truly letters I was seeing. Beside the horse’s name, I traced out my own for Rudy to see. I stood back up and pointed to it. “Can you read that?” I inquired. The horse looked at my name and then back up at me. He nodded his head again. “You’re Rudy,” I stated as I pointed to him, “and I’m Blyss.” Rudy’s tale swished. “Rudy.” I pointed to him. “Blyss.” I pointed to me. Rudy rolled his large, animal eyes. “Okay, clearly we get that,” I said. I walked closer to him. “I just don’t understand it,” I said gently petting his mane. “How can you know…” My voice trailed off as I looked around us. The sun was fully out, and the morning was coming and going swiftly. I looked back at Rudy with panic.

“I need to replace Queen Golde’s castle. I don’t suppose you know where that is?” I asked with little hope. Rudy surprised me once again by nodding and gesturing his head to his back. I looked at him unsure. “You really you want me-” I was interrupted with a frustrated whinny. I conceded and quickly searched for my basket and lantern to take with me. I could only replace my basket, and, in a hurry to keep moving, I gave up looking for the lantern and awkwardly swung myself onto Rudy’s back. Barely achieving proper balance atop the horse, I was propelled forward as Rudy raced through the forest. I clung to his mane and squeezed my knees tight in fear of falling off. As Rudy galloped through the trees, I began to realize something felt off. I was breathing. I was breathing easily. The stickiness I felt last night had greatly reduced. I took a multitude of deep breaths to make sure I wasn’t fooling myself. But I wasn’t.

Something happened last night. When my magic surged at midnight, a little part of me had changed. My body was already adjusting to Istoria. I was becoming a part of the land, a part of the magic. I was a step closer to becoming what I hoped would never be my fate. I put aside the discouraging thoughts as my newly befriended enchanted horse raced me to Queen Golde and the Holder of the Histories.

Rudy ran steadily. It seemed as if he knew where he was going, but how could I be sure? At this point though, the horse was my best shot. The morning air, cool and brisk, flew through my hair and blew against my cloak, causing it to raise up and fly like a pennant flag. If my mind wasn’t distracted by another million things, I would have felt powerful and free, flying through a forest on a beautiful white horse with magic running through my veins. As the hours rolled on, Rudy began to settle down into more of a jog. We came to a gurgling brook and stopped to rest. I pulled out a bit of bread and grapes and spared a few for Rudy. If I had known I would have a horse to help me, I would have stolen extra food for him. I cringed at what I thought. No, stealing even more would be wrong, I scolded myself. You’ve already done enough damage by stealing what you did. I couldn’t allow myself to encourage anymore bad thoughts. I couldn’t give in to evil yet. After the small meal, I stood up and brushed off my regrettably plain dress. I wished I didn’t have to go to my first castle wearing Chorio clothing.

“Alright, Rudy, let’s keep going,” I mumbled. A strange snort replied. I looked at him oddly. He lifted his head up. I raised an eyebrow. “You okay, there?” He snorted again. I came to him and brushed his neck gently. He flared his large nostrils and lifted his head again. My eyes slowly looked upwards. “Oh,” was all I could say. “That’s-that’s it...I think.” Sitting upon on a glorious mountain, peeking just above the top of the trees, was a gigantic stone castle. It had a large wall encircling it and towers with sharp minarets rising above it majestically. The castle flags flapped and flickered their golden colors. I looked back at Rudy, and our eyes met. “What would I do without you?” I smiled. Rudy gave his usual happy whinny and turned so I could get on. A minute later, we were back galloping towards the base of the mountain. Halfway there, the painful chafing began to set in on my legs. I desperately needed a saddle. It seemed that Rudy began to sense this and slowed down to ease the bouncing. The horse found a wide dirt trail that appeared to lead all the way up to the castle. The dirt path eventually changed into a smooth stone pathway. I noticed flecks of gold jammed in the cracks and crevices between the stones. The closer we came to the castle, the more gold was found all over the road. Beams of sunlight that were lucky enough to make it past the tree branches reflected brightly off the gold. Soon, Rudy’s hoofsteps took on a different sound. I peeked over the side and realized we were on pure gold now. I looked back up at the castle whose main gate was now in view. Guards stood motionless on either side of it, their armor made of solid gold. Wouldn’t that be really heavy to wear? I immediately thought. Perhaps, no one even dares to fight her. I shivered and clutched Rudy’s mane tighter. I looked back behind us at the golden road. From here, I could see a huge valley surrounded and protected by mountains even taller than Queen Golde’s. I could even see off to the left where Chorio’s border was. The meadow looked so small from up here. Istoria truly was magnificent, but I couldn’t help but wonder what was past the mountains.

“State your business,” a guard spoke roughly. I looked between the two of them, confused as to which one had addressed me.

“I’m looking for the Holder of the Histories,” I said looking back and forth between the guards. Their polished gold suits glared into my eyes.

“You looking for the Writer too?” one of the guards asked. I went with my best guess and spoke to the left one.

“Yes, I am,” I confidently replied.

“Funny,” the left guard said. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with your magic.”

“Well, I’m actually-”

“Hey, isn’t that the horse that came here the other night?” the other guard interrupted.

“Huh, sure looks like it. Guess he found his rider,” replied the left guard.

I tried to say, “Well, he’s not mine, but-”

“Don’t care. Just go in and don’t touch anything,” the left guard said gruffly. He turned around and signaled to a guard I had not noticed before who was standing at the top of the wall. He pulled a lever, and the large iron gate rose stiffly. Rudy cautiously led me in, and the gate slammed back down behind us.

Inside the castle walls was a flurry of activity. Servants rushed back and forth between smaller buildings. Some carried dirty linens over to large bins where maids slaved over their washboards. Others carried wood and tools back and forth between the workshops. Chickens, cows, goats, and other livestock clucked and bleated from their pens as all the castle staff hurried past them. No one paid Rudy or me any mind as we walked to the front doors of the castle. About ten paces from the front steps, a very round man stopped Rudy from going any further.

“Horses aren’t allowed in the castle, miss. Take him over to the stables,” ordered the man. I nodded and pretended to direct Rudy to the stables. In reality, Rudy knew exactly what he was doing; I was just along for the ride. Rudy paused outside one of the stalls and let me hop down. My legs felt grateful to rest in a new position.

“Promise you’ll wait for me?” I asked as I set my basket down. Rudy gave his weird horse nod. I chuckled and stroked his forehead. Rudy whimpered, but it was too late. The blackness came back.

I found myself looking at an ancient woman dressed in a simple frock with a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. A small pair of glasses rested on the tip of her nose and threatened to fall off her face. In her hand was a large book, and she flipped through the pages while muttering something. I knew instantly she must be a Storyteller. She looked up to somewhere past me and smiled. The Storyteller closed the book and stood up gingerly. She placed the book on her chair, and as she did so, her glasses did indeed fall. They bounced off the arm of the chair and crashed to the ground. As the Storyteller bent to pick them up, I saw her knees buckle. She toppled over and hit her head against the chair. A set of arms helped her back into the chair. The old woman rubbed her head and winced as she touched the hurt spot. The arms handed the glasses back to the Storyteller and helped her put them back on. The Storyteller blinked as she adjusted her eyesight back. She looked dazed and sleepy, almost as if she was drunk. The fall had hurt her far more than I realized. The Storyteller looked up again, listening to someone speak though I could not hear it.

“Yes, yes, I am fine,” she mumbled almost incoherently. Of course, I can hear her and not anybody else, I thought bitterly. The Storyteller put forth her hand. “By the power of Istoria and of the Stories treasured and honored and celebrated, I give you the magic of the, the, um, r-royal, em, horse? Go forth into the veins, the blood, the heart and soul of this young man so that he may have access to Istoria and carry out his destiny,” said the Storyteller. She looked up again, and horror struck across her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry! My head, I-” the Storyteller cried. She desperately put her hand forward again. “Reverse the spell, replace with-”

I found myself looking at Rudy again, this time speechless. I looked into the horse’s eyes, and this time I had an unnerving sensation that it wasn’t a horse looking back at me. I stepped away from Rudy and walked quickly up to the castle steps where the man waited for me. He nodded and walked up the stairs as I followed him. Clasping the large golden handles, the man held open the castle door for me as I stepped in.

The front room alone could have held at least a hundred people The room was designed in a circular fashion with a wide opening to the next room at the other end. Paintings of grumpy old royals lined the round walls. Tables and chairs, all decorated with golden fabric, were set out for visitors to use. I looked down and saw I was standing on a large mosaic that made up most of the floor. Each little tile was made of pure gold, and the different shades of yellow made a magnificent flower on the floor. A maid was dusting one of the paintings when the man approached her. She noticed him and smiled.

“Oh, hello, Ladworth!” said the maid cheerfully. She looked behind his shoulder and noticed me. “Got another one?” Ladworth nodded. “I swear,” said the maid, “more and more Storytellers are bestowing them young folks with glitchy magic!” Ladworth looked back at me.

“Yes, but do you see anything immediately wrong with her?” he said quietly with a raised eyebrow. The maid and Ladworth exchanged a glance. Changing the subject, Ladworth said, “Where is the Queen, do you know?”

“In her library as usual,” said the maid nonchalantly. Ladworth thanked her and returned to where I stood.

“If you’ll follow me,” said Ladworth politely. He led me past the first room and guided me through a maze of hallways decorated in gold, either solid or threaded in fabric. We came to another set of doors, though these were not gold plated. Along the panels of the doors were intricate carvings. Some shapes I recognized included scrolls, books, and quills. Fitting for a library I suppose, I thought as Ladworth opened the door for me. As I stepped into the library, I turned to Ladworth who was still by the door.

“Aren’t you coming-” Ladworth slammed the door shut, leaving me alone in library. I circled twice in awe of the towering two-level library. A winding staircase meandered its way up to the second story where a balcony traveled along the upper shelves of books. On the first level, where I stood, rows of large desks and chairs were lined up neatly in the open space between the bookshelves. Book stacks cluttered most of the desks and one lone head peeped above them. I carefully navigated through the maze of desks until I found the Queen. She was dressed in a cream colored blouse and a long skirt, not surprisingly woven with pure gold thread. Her hair was the perfect color of white corn ready to be harvested. It was pulled up into a tight bun, every loose strand smoothed back perfectly. Her lips were a rosy pink, and gold flecks were painted on her eyelids and cheeks. She was sitting in her chair comfortably as her eyes scanned each page of her book. I looked closer at the pages, and realized the words were written in another language. Her face became confused and frustrated, and she shut the book in a huff. Queen Golde rubbed her temples and only then noticed me standing there. A perfect smile flashed across her face, and she stood up to greet me. I attempted to bow, unsure of how to greet my first royal.

“No, no, please, we are equals,” Queen Golde insisted kindly. I glanced at her book. She chuckled. “The Animali know nothing of literature. The squirrels especially,” she explained.

“Animals wrote that?” I asked with widened eyes. Queen Golde nodded.

“Snow White has them convinced they can communicate like the rest of us. Now they’re creating a whole new language that’s completely useless,” said the Queen rolling her eyes. “And to make it worse, they’ve chosen the most ridiculous name for themselves! The Animali? Is that supposed to instill fear? Respect? I mean, come on!” I couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by the Queen. She was nothing like I had anticipated her to be. Queen Golde blushed.

“I must apologize. I never rant to anyone but the servants, and I’m paying them to listen.”

“It’s alright,” I said earnestly. “Passion is hard to mute.” The Queen grinned.

“I completely agree,” she mused. “Come with me.” The Queen led me to the right side of the library where wall length windows revealed the edge of Istoria. If I squinted, I could see Chorio’s border. “Isn’t it lovely?” remarked the Queen.

“Very much so,” I answered.

“Blyss, why are you here?” asked the Queen suddenly. I turned to her in surprise.

“How do you know my name?” I inquired. Queen Golde gave me a warm smile.

“I know a great deal, Ms. Bannon, but what I don’t know is why you are here. I don’t see any glitch in your magic like the others who have come to my castle.” My fingers played nervously with the edge of my cloak.

“Well, my magic is fine, but my Storyteller thinks there might have been a...a mixup,” I replied shyly. The Queen nodded.

“You don’t think you were meant to be Maleficent?” she asked. I looked down at my shoes.

“No, Your Highness, I don’t,” I confessed. The Queen looked back out the window for a few moments before turning around and walking back to a desk.

“Is this why you wish to seek the Holder of the Histories?” asked Queen Golde.

“Yes, the Storyteller told me they would be here.” Queen Golde leaned against one of the desks and fingered through the pages of one of the open books.

“The Storyteller was right. The Holder is in my castle. But they don’t see everyone that comes to them. Tell me, Blyss Bannon, why do you want to replace the Writer?”

I drew in a deep breath.

“When I was young,” I began, “my mother told me I would be Sleeping Beauty. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. And for a while, there wasn’t any doubt in my mind either. But about a year ago, something inside me changed. I began to have these thoughts about more than just getting to Istoria and becoming a princess. I thought past that. Is our meaning lessened if we don’t get chosen? Do we still have an impact on the world? Is Istoria even all that great? I know people shouldn’t think like that; it contradicts everything our realms are built on. But what I’ve kept from everybody, maybe even myself, is that I could live without the magic. I could live without the glory. I know that this deep thinking isn’t always going to satisfy me, but I actually...like it. And if I have to give it up just so I can be in Istoria, and not even get the happy ending, then I don’t see the point. I’d rather just live an unimportant life in Chorio than have to give up a part of me,” I said feeling a deep affirmation in my soul that I had never felt before. Perhaps my entire being was more complicated than I or Mother or anyone ever thought before. Perhaps I was the first one to want to give up a chance at Istoria.

Queen Golde looked at me with a peculiar expression in her eyes as I spoke. When she understood that I was done speaking, she simply stood up and walked back to the crystal clear glass wall. “You’re very convincing, Ms. Bannon. I know what it feels like to want to think deeper than what the realms push at you. Although your case is not traditional, I think I will let you speak the Holder of the Histories,” she said calmly looking out at the mountains. My heart flew.

“Thank you so much, Your Highness!” I shrieked as I began to rush back through the maze of desks. I skidded to a halt. “Um, Your Highness? Where might I replace the Holder?” The Queen turned around.

“She’s right in front of you.”