They were in a small clearing when the change came upon the air. It was immediate and obvious and overwhelming, a ray of colored light sweeping across the land as fast as the dark cloud had before. If that had been a black curse before, that wave had surely broken it.

Mulan had been reading Belle's book, the one she'd had when they met. It summarized mythical beasts from Mulan's land and most of the ones bordering it. There were chapters on Werewolves and Qui-shens and Yaoguai, but right now she was reading something about Kitsunes, fox-like creatures, from what she could tell, that had some grasp on immortality or the like (Mulan wasn't really focusing on the words). But that was before the magic crashed against her back, rocking her forwards, flipping the book's pages and whipping her hair around her head. And Mulan took a deeper breath than she had for almost three decades, the book dropping to the floor at a chapter about soul-suckers. The magic had a... pure feel to it, fresh and clean and freeing, even as it thudded in her ears (it sounded like the screams of the soldiers around her, those like brothers that died and the ones as strangers she had saved; she heard her father's last words and her mother's encouragements; she also heard silence, like a space waiting to be filled by the laughter of another).

Mulan felt expectant.

Belle had been tending to the horses when it came, Bucephalas (the Queen's horse) having gotten thorns caught in his mane. Khan's skin was shivering with sweat brought on by the effort of trying to go against the boundaries of a powerful curse. Samson was tired but otherwise okay, accustomed to the magic of a vengeful Dragon and the arduous treks his master would go on in an effort to aid his realm or save his princess. Belle was running her left hand through Buce's mane, searching for any stray thorns. The ones she had already collected rested in the palm of her right, waiting to be cast into the fire they would later set for the cloying aroma they would produce. When the wave hit Belle stumbled forwards as the horse shied to the side, hands still caught in his mane, Samson whinnying in terror, showing the whites of his eyes, and Khan rearing on his legs, pawing the air. Her right hand closed around the thorns, until a drop of blood dripped to the floor. The magic coursed through her, invading her mind and confusing her senses. She sucked in a desperate breath as the feeling suffocated her (it felt like her father's words battering her "He is your fiance. Of course you're engaged! This isn't a discussion, Belle..."; the feeling of watching her best friend die at the hands of the ogres, leaving them with no body to bury; the heartbreak of a stranger taking her from her home and giving her a new one, only to cast her out from it as though he didn't care).

Belle felt heartbroken.

Phillip had been swinging his sword, going through the movements but not really feeling it. All there was here to fight were ogres (they had few arrows, since Belle carved only 'Dragons', but they were enough for their purpose) and Maleficent had clearly been consumed by the cloud. Even with the horses they weren't really making any progress (at all), and Phillip was desperately afraid that after they had come all this way, waited all this time, Aurora would not be there at the end of it all. She would be dead, she would have left him, she would be cursed... It was these thoughts that prompted Phillip to attack the air around him, skewering it and slicing it in half. That was what he was doing when he saw the ray of light cut through the air. Of the three of them he was the only one with his mouth open when it reached him, as he prepared to call out. It surged through his mouth and out his nose in a single breath (it tasted like the words on his tongue as he told his father of his plans to marry the girl he had met; it tasted like joy and dark magic at the same time, battling one another for dominance; it tasted like Aurora's lips on his. Roses, somehow, and mint and an overwhelming warmth).

Phillip felt complete.

Altogether the experience happened simultaneously and lasted but a moment as Mulan dropped a book, Belle a handful of thorns and Phillip a sword. Two of the three had tears in their eyes as they walked to meet one another just off-center of the clearing. Few words were exchanged and finally Phillip gestured in the direction of the palace that had been built for him and his love. Looking there now, it seemed so much loser than before. With a nod the three went to calm their respective horses, which Belle had abandoned in favor of once again changing the plan of action. Khan was clearly in no fit state to move - incredibly agitated, rolling his eyes with his ears back, back right hoof stamping the ground - much to Mulan's disappointment. And to Phillip's frustration, they had to pause to amend the plan once more. In the end (after a prolonged argument) it was decided Belle would stay behind to 'guard the camp' and tend to Khan, since her scars wouldn't let her ride that far that fast.

The Warrior and the Prince swung onto the horses, Phillip on his own and Mulan on Belle's, and turned them in the direction of the stone palace, where the Princess had been laid to rest.