Prologue: Grief is a Dangerous Thing
Once upon a time, in a dense forest right on the border between kingdoms, there lived an old enchanter and his young son. Their simple life was a happy one, even if the father had his nose in his cauldron rather too often for the boy; who loved being outside and exploring. The child wasn't very old before he began pestering his father to let him spend time in the closest village, half a day's walk from their cottage. He'd been there before of course—rarely, on very brief shopping trips with the enchanter—but he wanted to get to know the other children; try to make some friends. After weeks and months and years the old man finally agreed, and the youth skipped off in high spirits, returning from his adventure in even higher ones.
A few days later the boy came down with a cough. Nothing too unusual for autumn, and the father gave his son the standard herbal preparations, confident that the wheezing would ease up in a day or so. But a day turned to a week, and instead of easing up the cough grew worse, and was quickly accompanied by a horrible fever and chills. As the youth's health deteriorated the enchanter desperately tried every concoction and spell he could think of. But his efforts were in vain, and the old man watched helplessly as the boy slid into the cold hands of death.
When he returned from burying his child, the enchanter was nearly mad with grief. Standing in the cottage that suddenly seemed so foreign, his eyes lighted on the blue ball his son had always loved to play with. Made of glass, it was perfectly smooth and contained bubbles that sparkled in the sunlight and caught a person's gaze. Staring at the rare globe, the old man remembered how his child's eyes lit up every time he played with that ball; and how those eyes were now closed forever. Beside himself with rage and despair, the enchanter cast a curse: whoever next entered the house couldn't help but see this ball; and when, mesmerized, he or she picked it up; they would instantly fall down dead.
But perhaps the enchanter was feeling the tiniest bit guilty, for as he prepared to leave the house forever he amended his terrible curse. The person who touched the ball would not die, though they would fall into a deathlike sleep. The only thing that would save them was a love's kiss, as love had not done for the enchanter's son.