Lord Terrowin waited silently in his unlit cell for days listening to the voices and movements of the castle. From his position deep in the dungeons he could hear the passing words of the guards occupying the dungeon: a trial would take place for his crime, but an execution was inevitable. The kingdom was preparing a hanging. Should Stefan die, then it wouldn't be a hanging: the king's wrath would be furious and cruel.
None of these things made the necromancer flinch.
The cold, dirty stone upon which he sat for days was neither here nor there to him, nor was the hanging darkness that enshrouded him like walls meant to suffocate: Lord Terrowin was busy, concentrating, making a call.
At last the call was answered.
There was a glimmer in the darkness—a white light, both beautiful and haunting. From it came a voice.
"And what have you gotten yourself into, necromancer?"
Lord Terrowin opened his eyes. "What can I say," he whispered. "I ran into the winds of fate and have been blown off course. You know all about that, I assume."
The Enchantress smirked. She had now materialized fully, her long white hair and crown of dark crystals striking in the semidarkness. "Just because I answered your call doesn't mean I'm going to help you," she said. "So mind whom you are speaking to."
"I've never trusted fairies," said the necromancer. "But I'm willing to make you a deal."
Severa scoffed. , and then laughed, her laughter ringing like bells and filling the sullen, empty space of the dungeon. The necromancer winced. "Ssshh!"
"And why would I make a deal with you?" she asked. "Look at you—you're rotting in the king's dungeon. This is certainly not my problem."
The necromancer smiled. "I know what your plan is for the king. I know your plan is being thwarted. That's where I can help. But you need to get me out of here. Now."
Severa raised her eyebrows, her beautiful face both otherworldly and human. "Maybe I'll just let him kill you if I find out you've been in my business, necromancer."
"It's—uh, how do they say? Water under the bridge," said Lord Terrowin. "The girl has found your Beast. I know she's the one who can break the curse. And you don't want that, do you?"
Severa pursed her lips tightly, drawing air in sharply through her nostrils. "My nephew is still under my control. And since you've already taken care of the king's son, you've actually made things a lot easier for me now. Originally I was going to have to dispose of the prince myself instead of risk making a switch. One prince for another."
"It's really a terrible plan," the necromancer rebutted. "Your nephew's got the castle reinforced to withstand your power. You can't even reach him. But I can. Let me out of here and I will do what I do best."
"What is it you do best, necromancer? Raise the dead?" Her tone was sarcastic.
Lord Terrowin shrugged. "The boy won't see it coming. And neither will the girl. I can bring you either one of them."
Severa seemed to consider it for a moment. "Don't touch my nephew," she said at last. "I need him just the way he is. The girl, though, yes. I suppose we can make this work."
"Then it is done. You will free me and in exchange I will deliver you the girl. After that, our business is over."
"And if you fail to deliver me the girl," Severa added, "I will kill you."
"Ah-ah," said the necromancer. "I cannot do it by myself. I will stage the attack on the castle, but one of your men need to retrieve the girl."
Severa scowled. "This better not be some kind of trick, necromancer. I know what you're about—I know you're obsessed with the Beast. He belongs to me. If anything happens to my nephew and the girl is not handed over, then you will pay the price. Do you hear me?"
The necromancer gritted his teeth. Just then, voices could be heard in the corridor outside the cell. The guards were approaching his prison.
"Do we have a deal?" The necromancer said tightly.
Severa smirked. "More or less."
A guard began unlocking the cell door from the outside. Lord Terrowin stood. "Then what are we waiting for?"
When the guard opened the door the cell was empty; the necromancer had vanished without a trace.
Prince Stefan could only lie in bed, for the pain had shut down his body entirely. While he was awake strange visions wracked his mind—images and scenes from his entire life. And when he slept he dreamt of something he could never remember dreaming of before: the ocean.
The feeling was like none other. Surrounding him was the vast expanse of water; warm and frothy, carrying his body for miles as if it were light as a feather. Stefan relaxed upon the waves and gazed into the sky, the mirror of the ocean. The sun touched his skin.
"Stefan—wake up!"
The prince's eyes bolted open and the ocean dissipated. The pain from the wound in his shoulder had consumed every inch of him, and now it all returned at once. Stefan moaned as he tried to sit up.
Marius leaned over him, his eyes full of panic. "The necromancer is gone," he said.
And just as he said, the castle alarm went off, and the kingdom was alerted to the danger by the sound of bells.
The prince was still regaining his wits. "Gone?"
"Disappeared—escaped- no one really knows!"
"He's going after Mary," Stefan said. "It's time."
Marius hesitated.
"Give it to me," Stefan insisted.
"You're my best friend-"
"—then you have no reason not to," the prince interrupted curtly. "I can't even move from this pain. Give me the serum because it's now or never."
Marius clutched his satchel, where inside he stored what the prince had asked for.
"Just so we're clear," Marius said carefully. "This will only put a temporary stopper to your condition. Once the serum has worn off death is imminent—even if we somehow find a cure to the poison coursing inside of you."
"There is no cure for what's coursing inside of me," Stefan replied. "I understand that. Give me the serum so I can at least do one good thing before I die."
"Don't say that," said Marius sharply. "Don't say 'die'. The necromancer could've lied. There is still hope."
Stefan smiled weakly through his pain. "He didn't lie, Marius. I'm going after him and I'm going to save Mary this time. I'm your prince and I command it."
They sat in silence for a long time before Marius pulled the vile out of the bag and handed it to the prince.
"Once you drink that there's no turning back," Marius said.
"Oh come on now; you're my best friend. You're not supposed to give up hope," said Stefan. Then he swallowed the entirety of the serum in one swift gulp. "When will it start working?"
"Soon, I think. Give it an hour."
Stefan nodded. "That's all I need. Call Lance and tell him to prepare my horse. Go find the others; we have a mission to complete."
The sound of bells echoed out of the castle and throughout the kingdom. A sense of danger hung in the air. King Peter made his way to his son's room and found that just like the necromancer, he too was gone without a trace.
There was another summer storm raging over Blackhill as I searched in the firelight of the library through all the thousands of books, looking for the one that could hold the answers to mine and Adrian's curses. I had to go through them one by one—and I would know it was there if the ending was ripped out, just as Adrian had said. After hours of this I grew tired of looking and curled up in a chair in front of the fire, staring into the flames as the sound of rain and thunder outside drew me into the world of dreams.
In the dead of night I awoke with a start. The front door had opened and the storm outside was raging harder than ever. I met Adrian in the front hall. He was soaked to the bone, his dark clothes sticking to him and his hair plastered to his face and neck. There was something wrong; I could see it in his eyes.
Without a word he reached deep into his shirt and brought out a dampened, folded piece of paper and handed it to me. My fingers held it carefully, unpeeling it to reveal its contents. It read:
BRING KING PETER THE HEAD OF THE BEAST.
REWARD: 10,000 GOLD PIECES
CHAMPION'S TOURNEY TO BE HELD IN A FORTNIGHT. WINNER WILL LEAD THE HUNT.
Beneath the words was a drawing of the beast. Adrian's beast.
By the time my eyes had raked over the words and drawing my hands were trembling. I looked up at Adrian in speechless horror.
"I have to go," he said. "I can't stay here now."
"Adrian-"
"Belle," he said, "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Leaving? But where will you go?" I asked frantically.
"I don't know. But this place isn't safe anymore, for either of us."
My heart was racing as the reality set in. The front door was still open behind Adrian and the storm seeped into the front hall.
"Come with me," he said, his eyes full of intensity.
The storm outside was nothing compared to the feelings crashing around inside of me. Of course I wanted to go with him, but what would it lead to? Would we find more danger? Would we fall into the hands of the Enchantress? What if one of the king's men found the Beast anyway? That familiar feeling was rising in my stomach again: fight or flight. I looked into Adrian's eyes.
And then he took me into his arms and kissed me on the lips.
Suddenly the answer was clear to me: there will be fleeing, and there will be fighting.
Because it is us against the world and we will win.