The Headmaster had promised himself never to return here. He had sworn that when he had last walked out, it would be the final time. He had thought he had left this part of his life behind forever.

His story had a sickening habit of proving him wrong.

So it was that Milton Grimm breathed deeply and stepped into the Vault of Lost Tales. The towering shelves seemed to hum with some long-forgotten energy, coalescing into almost-whispers in the back of his mind. He shook his head and kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

He tapped out a quick rhythm on the office door, one he had tried so hard to erase from his memory. Immediately a blue mist snaked out and took hold of him, snapping him through the door and into the chamber beyond.

The cave-like hovel hadn't changed. Books and candles and instruments of science were strewn about at random, while obscure and bizarre paintings and portraits clung to the dirt-colored walls, some of them upside-down. Milton shook his head. He hated this place.

A gleam at the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was another book, massive and so black it shone, resting on an overturned table. Against his better judgment, he lifted it and opened to the first page.

Diamonds of the Day: The Lost Dangers of Ever After, read the title inscribed within.

"Does the turning coat hear the same song?"

Milton whirled. His brother stood behind him, his glasses askew and beard uncombed. That absurd burgundy overcoat still clung to his figure, draping over his gaunt frame as if he were a wizened, discolored bat. He seemed even more haggard than the last time the two had met, if that was possible.

"You know it's gone, then?"

"A scurrying mouse hears many things, and smells what's waiting in the wings."

Milton took a deep breath, struggling to keep his composure. Being here was bad enough. Riddlish threatened to push him over the edge.

"Did you take it, brother?"

Giles smiled. "A mouse's paws may be so quick-"

That was it. Milton seized his brother by the collar, lifted him, and slammed him against the chamber's wall. He shouted into his face from an inch away. "Did you take it?"

Fear flashed in Giles' eyes. He kicked feebly at Milton's legs, then started to cough and choke. Milton shook him.

"Where," he hissed, his jaw trembling with rage, "is it?"

Giles's mouth moved, but no words came forth. Milton threw him to the floor, where he shook and gasped for air. Milton straightened his necktie, then knelt beside him.

"Brother, I have had reason to keep you in my castle for so long, blabbering away among your precious tales," he said in a low voice. "But at the moment such reason seems to escape me, and I find myself wondering if I really need you here after all."

He clamped a hand on Giles' quivering neck.

"Perhaps there really isn't a place for you here anymore," he whispered, leaning in close, his breath hot on Giles' face. "Perhaps your story is about to come to-"

"No!" Giles shouted. His panic seemingly broke through the curse that bound his tongue. "No, brother, please, please, I didn't take it, I don't know where it is, I didn't take it, please, don't hurt me, please-"

Milton's grip tightened. "Then where is it?"

"I don't know." Giles shook his head emphatically. Sweat plastered his tousled hair to his forehead. "All I know is that it's gone, I saw the chamber empty a week past-"

"And told me nothing?" Again the grip grew stronger. Giles began to wheeze. "You know what it could do in the wrong hands. In any hands." He tilted his wrist, craning Giles' neck backwards.

"I, I…"

Milton released him and stood. Again Giles gasped, and again Milton straightened his necktie. Then he simply stared, his gaze fixed on one of the chamber's many candles, as if he sought answers in the flame. For a long time they stayed like that, Milton staring and Giles struggling to regain his breath.

Giles had been with Milton for his entire life. Once, he had been as much a part of him as he himself was. They had been inseparable, best friends as well as brothers. They had founded Ever After High together, weathering the skepticism, the doubt, the opposition to an institutionalized happily ever after. They had realized their dream. They had taught beside one another and educated the future of Ever After together again and again and again. It was perfect.

And then they had been torn apart. Giles became dangerous, embracing and promoting ideas that jeopardized all they had built and the very fabric of Ever After itself. So Milton took action. He laid a curse upon his brother's speech and hid him away in the bowels of the school, where his divisive way of thinking could do no harm. But Giles was a crafty one, and even here, all alone, he had repeatedly reached out to sow discord within the castle. Every time a student spoke out, questioned the order of the world, questioned their destiny, Milton had traced it back to some clever prompt from Giles. Even Raven Queen had come to see him before her unprecedented defiance on Legacy Day.

All that Milton had been able to stomach for the sake of the past. But this… this was something else. His brother's failure to inform him of the disappearance of this thing, this most potent, most powerful, most absolutely crucial weapon, was something he could never have imagined. Giles understood what it was capable of. To be willing to see it let loose, where anyone might use it, proved that he was truly desperate and truly dangerous.

Leadership required sacrifices. Milton had learned this at an early age, and he had never before shied away from it. He would not now. The future of Ever After depended on him.

"You've gone too far, brother," he said quietly.

Giles heard it in his voice. He scrambled to his feet, trying to run, but Milton seized his collar and spun him around.

"You leave me no choice." He gripped Giles' jaw and snapped it to the right. There was a scream and an audible crack. Giles dropped to the floor.

Milton stood over him for a long moment.

It was something that perhaps he should have done long ago, before the flames of Raven Queen's little rebellion could be fanned, but it was too late for that now. The past was the past. What mattered was the future, and if Milton Grimm wasn't careful, that future could become very messy very fast.

He straightened his necktie. Then he turned and left the Vault.