Prologue.
Arella sat in her Wyoming ranch, head in her hands, laptop open in front of her, a tepid mug of coffee black as night and sweet as sin half-empty on her mahogany desk. She was 67 years old, and she was tired. Tired of everything. Her whole body ached with fatigue and her hair was almost completely white from both stress and her age.
Her once-voluptuous frame had ached since she was 17, since he cast her into the cold for her own good, for the sake of their fetal daughter. She knew that he would take her soon, and he would give her an eternally youthful body and she would be happy in his arms for all time.
But first, she must complete a task. Arella knew not why the monks of Azarath had lied to her daughter, but she was finally at the point where she needed to tell Raven the truth.
"Ma'am, your daughter is here" Said a young Hawaiian woman with a disfigured face and a gentle manner.
"Show her in please," I said as I rubbed my temples, feeling very old indeed.
"Mother, you look tired" My daughter says as she strides into my office, her son on her hip. I hand her the bundle of papers wrapped in string. "What is this?"
"A true version of 'Beauty and the Beast'" I say slowly, my bones creaking as I stand up to look at my infant grandson.
He has my curls and his father's bright red hair, the eyes that look at me curiously are wide and slate gray. It took my daughter 48 years to conceive a child, and the labor made her infertile as my labor for her did me. "I shall read it, mother." She looks at me as if confused.
"I'm leaving soon." I tell her as I stroke little Garfield's curls. The boy's namesake died of heroin overdose after Tara left him for the 3rd time. "This body is old and tired, and it has little left to give." I kiss the boy on his forehead then do the same to his mother. "Tell Wallace that I said hello"
"Mother... what is on your mind?" She asks, concern evident in her eyes.
"Just read the story, beloved Daughter, and all will be made clear"