Prologue: On a Moonless Night
The castle of King Roland II had grown quiet, as it did every night at about this time. The royal family had all settled down to bed, and only a few guards remained at their posts. The moon was nowhere to be seen, but the stars shown like candles, guiding weary travelers to the realm of Enchancia. Two travelers in particular had been following those stars, and now they waited beneath the shadows of the forest. All night, they had watched as the glowing lights of the distant castle slowly began to dim. Then, at about midnight, a cloaked figure rose from her hiding place beneath the trees. She was finally satisfied with the stillness of the castle.
"If we're going to do this, we need to move now," Amelia decided, drawing her hood up around her face.
She was answered with a crude sound; something between a hiss and a growl. Amelia looked down into the shadows, where a pair of glowing yellow eyes stared back at her. The sight of her friend always reminded Amelia of the drawings that her nephew used to make for her; the ones that were supposed to look like cats. In that same way, Amelia thought that Byron was supposed to look like a wolf. He was about the same size and shape as a wolf, but he was more muscular, and bore the mane of a lion. Also, his features were more stark and fearsome than any wolf Amelia had ever seen. Of course on a dark night like tonight, Byron's fierce black coat made him appear almost invisible.
"I can't guarantee that this will work," she said, her voice wavering as if she was stifling a sob, "but this might be our only chance. The oldest parts of the castle are barely used anymore. Once inside, I'm sure you'll be able to stay there undetected." Amelia affectionately stroked the face of the dark creature, who responded with a quick, angry bark. The woman leapt back, reflexively. Everything that came out of her friend's mouth sounded threatening, so she was sure that he hadn't meant to frighten her. This was confirmed when Byron apologetically placed his head against Amelia's hand.
"I forgive you," she returned, "but we really must get going."
And without another word, they were off, dashing from the forest's edge. Amelia knew the land well and knew exactly where and when to sneak past the guards. In no time at all, the two had managed to get into the castle grounds and slip through a kitchen window, which to Amelia's relief, was still loose enough to pry open from the outside. It was darker inside the palace than it was under the starlight, but Amelia carefully made her way through the kitchen and trusted her memory to guide her through the labyrinth of hallways. Everything was working out perfectly, and Amelia was ready to breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that the most difficult part of their journey was almost at its end.
Byron followed along, a master of stealth with the black of his fur shielding him from sight and the soft pads of his paws silencing his steps. However, his tail did him no favors. As the pair crept along the lavish halls of the palace, a careless flick of his tail smacked against a decorative vase of flowers.
Amidst the blackness, Amelia heard the vase roll and stood paralyzed as a sickening crash echoed through the corridors. After a brief moment of shock, she ran as fast as she could toward the old, unused section of the castle. She had to hide Byron away. Amelia knew that she would only have a few minutes before-
But it was too late. Amelia stopped dead in her tracks as she was engulfed in a wash of blinding light. When her eyes adjusted, she realized that the light had been an oil lamp flaring to life. If there was one comfort in being discovered, it was that Byron was still hidden in the shadows somewhere. Amelia looked at the man who had lit the lamp and recognized him immediately. It was Baileywick, the castle steward. His usually kind and collected countenance was now overshadowed with a look of wide eyed surprise.
"Princess Amelia?" he asked in disbelief.
This was certainly not the way Amelia had imagined her homecoming.
