Chapter 24
Death.
She did not ask if this was still an illusion. There was no clear definition of reality anymore. But the one certainty of all life, of all reality, was now coming for her, as steadily as the downward flow of a cursed hourglass.
Click click click.
She shut her eyes, seeing nothing but feeling everything. She felt strangely more alive than ever before, as if she knew the location of each vein and artery in her body, blood pumping continuously through her strong heart even though it would soon be spilled like water from a punctured canteen. Every inch of her skin tingled from contact with the air, though there was no breeze. Each blink of her eyes and breath that passed through her lips were timed.
Click.
The sound stopped right above her. She opened her eyes to darkness, still seeing nothing, but knew that her death was suspended in a second's fall.
She felt the rush of air as it dropped toward her.
She glimpsed a grotesque, monstrous face twisted in a vicious sneer, inches away from her eyes, and could not even scream in the split-second before the end.
But in the next moment there was the resounding thud of two bodies colliding, and she felt another breeze as the monster's trajectory changed, its barbaric form crashing down beside her with a snarl of surprise.
"Jasmine!"
A warm, calloused hand grabbed her wrist, and she heard the snapping of rope under quick slices of a blade. She was free. Her rescuer jerked her to her feet before pushing her away forcefully and plunging his blade downward into the monster just recovering from its fall beside them. Its unearthly scream pierced the darkness like a flock of carrion birds, sending terrifying echoes in all directions. Jasmine shrieked and covered her ears, barely able to keep standing.
He grabbed her by the hand and they were running, gaining speed in the blindness of adrenaline and panicked determination. The desperate will to live reentered her veins with a new vigor. She was going to make it out. She was going to live.
"A…Alad…din?" His name was breathless on her lips, unbelievable, as she nearly stumbled on the folds of her dress.
"I'm here," the man running beside her said, and she caught a glimpse of his determined face before he surged ahead, still gripping her hand tightly and half-dragging her behind him.
"Y…you…how did you…"
"Genie and Carpet are waiting outside. We have to move!" he said tightly, not nearly as breathless as she. She saw confidence and relentless focus in his every movement, sharp and fluid sharp at the same time, bare feet cutting lightly across the invisible surface beneath them. He was determined to get them both out of there as soon as possible, even as another keening chorus of monstrous shrieks sounded behind them, followed by a low growl of fury.
The pounding of the creature's steps behind them filled her ears, magnified by her own heartbeat and failing breaths. She fought against the burn in her lungs and limbs, forcing herself to continue on, to follow the man she had left behind, who had now come back for her.
Somehow she caught up to him and they were running side by side, hands clasped tightly together with no intention of letting go. The darkness began to fade around them, and she could see the corridor of sanded brick and torches that stretched on ahead. At the end of it there was an open square of space leading to the front of the sphinx. The faint twinkle of stars against a dark night sky was just visible through the opening.
She screamed and ducked as the monster slammed its claws into the rock right behind her and began running sideways along the wall, heading straight for her. She heard the sharp whistling sound of claws rending the air right behind her back as it swiped and missed.
"Don't look back!" Aladdin shouted. He brought the sword up in his left hand but did not hinder their breakneck pace, and she glanced at him with a terrified plea, begging him to save them somehow, to kill the nightmarish creature that would devour them both.
Setting his mouth in a grim line, he shifted her fingers in his hand, ready to let go. She grasped his hand even more tightly, terrified at the thought of going on alone.
"No, don't let go, don't let go Aladdin please please don't…!"
"Jasmine, you have to trust me!" he said urgently, and moved closer to her, toward the monster that was gaining on them, shrieking its imminent victory in her ears.
He slowed down infinitesimally, just enough to slip his right shoulder behind her left, and gave her a firm push forward to boost her speed. She ran on heedlessly for one second, her hand now empty, but whirled around in time to see him swing the sword clean across the monster's misshapen, powerful arms, spraying dark liquid into the ceiling and walls. She almost fell to the ground under its scream of pain and fury. Her eyes were helplessly drawn to its hulking dark form, hunched protectively over its wounded arms, snarling at the human who had managed to injure it. Aladdin took a cautious step back, brandishing the bloodied sword, balancing lightly on his feet like the seasoned fighter he was. The beast rose then to its full height, its demonic aura suddenly flaring like a living disease through the air, the shock wave from its sickening power knocking him backward onto the floor. She felt the aftershock of the blast as well, stumbling backward but managing to keep on her feet.
"Aladdin!" she screamed, running back toward him. "Get awa—"
Her words were cut off by her own shriek of horror as the creature swiped one bleeding arm around Aladdin's torso, hooking around his back and drawing him toward its distended form in the bizarre semblance of an embrace. With a strike of its claws the sword in his left hand clattered uselessly to the floor.
"No! No!!!"
She fell to her knees as it slammed Aladdin's head against the wall with a sickening crack, curtailing his struggles with one blow. She could not bring her eyes away from it then as it lowered its head to his throat and opened its jaws wide.
And then suddenly she was flying through the air, sprawled across a soft fabric surface. One tassel of the magic carpet brushed her arm lightly as if in reassurance, but she only gripped its edges and screamed harder.
"No! Take me back! Save him! Save him, Carpet!"
The walls swept by her in a dizzying blur as the carpet gained speed, rejecting her desperate pleas even as her eyes riveted on the rapidly diminishing figure of the monster hunched over her beloved's limp body. From a distance, the clearest thing she could see was blood. Stark, vicious, red blood.
The open night air hit her skin as soon as Carpet flew out of the labyrinth, and she wailed as if she were the one dying, seeing none of the stars that sparkled all around them or the giant twin flames of the torches at the entrance. She saw only red.
Her fingers gripped the fabric of the carpet tightly, furiously, wrenching it back to make it slow down, to make it turn around somehow, even though she knew her friend would not allow her to go back and die.
"Aladdin…Al…addin…" she sobbed, curling into a ball, fingers still clutching the soft fabric.
The carpet suddenly swerved, nearly throwing her off with the abrupt maneuver. The long folds of her dress cascaded over the side and dragged her dangerously close to the edge. And then something snatched the carpet right from under her, and she plummeted to the hard ground of the sphinx's platform once again. With the wind knocked out of her, she was forced to lie still for several seconds before she could try to stand.
She rose slowly, shakily, feeling as if her life was all but squeezed out of her, and turned to face the grinning cat goddess who stood with the magic carpet hanging limp in her clawed hands. Its bottom edge was burning with orange flame.
"Going somewhere?" Mirage said with slow delight.
"You…" she stuttered, breathing hard, feeling all the hate and fear and murdered hope boil together into an unrecognizable fire inside her. "You monster!"
She rushed toward the goddess, not caring that she had no weapon and no strength to match the fire within her. She had to kill this evil, evil creature, this inhuman thing that had trapped her in the deepest level of hell.
But she stumbled on the folds of her dress and fell forward, losing her breath once again from the jarring impact. She heard the low cackle of the goddess as she raised her head, only to feel one dainty shoe come to rest on top of her skull and push it back down to the floor, slowly applying pressure until her cheek scraped painfully against the rocky ground. She tried to swipe at the goddess with her nails, but the weight suddenly disappeared on its own. In the next second her vision went black from a vicious blow to her head.
"Still feisty, hm?" The offhand remark floated down to Jasmine's ears as if from a far distance.
Her mind was a haze now, swirling in muddled images, but still red. So much red. She felt tears stinging at the broken skin on her face, tears of pain, anger, loss, sorrow, fear, too many things to count. She was helpless. She was helpless, and Aladdin was dead, and Carpet was dead, and Genie…
"Kill or capture; the classic villain's dilemma," the goddess said with a triumphant laugh. "I prefer to strike a balance."
She leaned down close to Jasmine's broken, battered body, and whispered in her ear. "Your hero—one of them, at least—made delectable fodder for my latest pet. And your jinni—hah, semi-phenomenal indeed. An amusing toy for my firecats in their own lair. And you, my dear…oh, you are the most treasured prize of all. That was only the beginning of your fun in Morbia, Princess. The beginning."
Jasmine did not look up, utterly exhausted and defeated and dead. She was already dead, and it was only the beginning of a new nightmare. Perhaps she would go mad before long. Before she could meet the same fate as Aladdin had. Before she could mourn him in terrible guilt and pain for too long.
"Open your eyes. Don't want to miss round two. You're down one hero already."
Jasmine lay still as the sinuous cackle of the goddess echoed around her, reverberating around the walls.
Walls?
She forced herself to rise from the ground at last, to draw from the last trickle of strength inside her. She still breathed and moved. Life had not left her body yet, though it would be a mercy if it did. To die in peace was better than to live in hell.
She was back in the labyrinth. The open air of the outside of the sphinx had been replaced once more by claustrophobic walls lit eerily by torches, corridors stretching in several directions, all seemingly endless. She let out a sob and crumpled against the wall, sliding to her knees with her face in her hands.
Aladdin was dead.
Aladdin was dead.
Aladdin was dead.
She hugged herself tightly, curling up on the floor, willing herself to die with him. The floor was icy cold against her skin.
She looked down in sudden confusion, and saw that her garments had once again changed. She was now clad in billowing red pants and a diminutive top, the same outfit she had been forced to wear that fateful day Jafar had taken over the kingdom.
She stood unsteadily and rubbed her arms for warmth, feeling shock settle into her limbs and drag down her movements, pulling her mind toward a pit of unthinking madness. She would certainly go mad if this continued for just another hour. The confidence and determination at the core of her heart had already shattered. She was a mere toy here, tossed around for amusement, life stretched thin as strings of clay.
"Dance for me, Princess."
The unexpected, sinuous voice sent shivers down her spine. She turned toward the source in trepidation. The man was behind her.
She stumbled backward several steps, her injured hand bracing against the wall. She instinctively reached to hold her head as her temples throbbed, her mind burdened beyond capacity. And her fingers brushed the cool gold of the crown he had once bestowed upon her.
But the tall, sinister vizier was nowhere to be seen. There was only an empty corridor running endlessly in either direction. She whirled around several times, trying to find the voice.
"Go on…dance…"
The voice repeated its insinuating command, flowing over the air like overly sweet honey on molding bread. She swallowed fearfully and pressed her back against the wall, holding still. She closed her eyes and began to pray, began to wish fervently that there was a way out. She began to repeat to herself that this was not real.
"Dance…"
The whisper was harsher now, cruel, on edge. She tensed, terrified by what would happen to her next.
"I said dance."
The voice was downright malevolent, almost spitting out the words like poison. She cringed under its malice, a reed about to snap in a sandstorm.
"If you insist on stubbornness, then I will insist on force."
In the span of a second she felt her awareness and control of her body drain out of her, and she continued to stand only by the strength of an outside force holding her up like a doll with invisible strings.
"No…" she whispered, feeling her lips grow numb as well. "No…"
Her arms stretched slowly forward and up over her head, her wrists curving in a familiar posture that was entirely out of her control now.
Her feet moved of their own accord, sliding across the stone floor in carefully measured grace, and her hips began to sway, allowing the billowing pants she wore to slide down slowly, exposing the top of her hips.
"No…" she repeated, shutting her eyes.
"That's it, Princess…dance for me…"
She moved slowly as a marionette manipulated by expert hands, every inch of her body controlled by a tug of a string, creating a seamless blend of undulating hips and coyly twisting hands. There was no music, only the low sinister voice of the invisible man, speaking faster, growing in excitement at the sight of her enslaved seduction.
"Lovely…
"So very lovely."
She bit back a cry of shame as her own body betrayed her and slid slowly down upon the floor, continuing its dance of intimate taboo on a new level of depravity.
"Stop…" she whispered as her back arched in a show of mock passion. "Please stop…"
She rolled onto her back, her hips lifting suddenly in a seductive display as if pleased by an invisible lover. She shut her eyes once again, refusing to behold the slavery of her own limbs. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, trying to fight the enforcement of an alien rhythm in her blood.
"Let it out, Princess…that beautiful voice…let it out…"
And she found she could no longer protest even with words as she lost control over her voice as well. She longed to cover her ears from the low, intimate sounds that issued forth from her throat, knowing they were not her own, only another flawless element in this sick dance before her unseen audience.
Tears flowed down the sides of her face as the smooth motions of her body broke nearly all remaining prohibitions of chastity and her own pride, the shame of helpless self-degradation burning through her veins. If Aladdin had not saved her that day…if Jafar's despotic reign had continued…how soon would it have come to this? She remembered the last wish Jafar thought he had made, how he had wanted total control of her mind and body. It would have been inevitable. She would have been his slave in every meaning of the word, whether through a wish on a lamp or through his own dark sorcery.
But here in this labyrinth of despair, there was no escape. This was a vast grave that buried all hope and light and willpower. All under the crushing force of illusions that were now reality. There was no difference.
She felt her body lift from the floor as if under a levitation spell, her back already slick with sweat from the exertions of her depravity, and hung limp in the air, exhausted and defeated. She could only wait for the voice to return, for her body to obey his next whim.
"You kept time quite well, Princess."
Her breaths were shallow, hitching with uncontrollable sobs, bleeding with fear and despair.
"But not well enough…perhaps you might better learn…"
The air around her shimmered and flared, and suddenly she could move again, dropping scarcely a foot to the floor and almost stumbling upon the unexpected impact. Her mind was too slow to register her freedom, however, and she remained in place, bewildered as curved walls of glass materialized around her, warping her view of the corridor outside.
She turned slowly, her own movements now foreign to her as if she were controlling another's limbs. Her hand brushed against the cool glass, and a powerful wave of déjà vu seized her senses. She froze. This was…
A trickle of sand fell upon her shoulders and flowed down to the floor in a quite rustle. She looked up with dread and saw the narrow neck of the hourglass, the near convergence of the glass walls that had trapped her once again. The nightmare that had haunted her for weeks following Jafar's defeat had returned, and it was real this time.
She pressed her back against the curve of the wall, avoiding the sand. She stared at the floor, at the small pile of fluorescent pink grains that was steadily growing each second. It flowed from the top compartment at an alarmingly fast rate. She could not take her eyes off its unnatural color.
Was this…was this how it felt for him?
To feel his life leak away bit by bit yet at a frighteningly fast pace, knowing his days were limited, aware of the exact time he would die?
She pounded her fists against the glass feebly, but her strength had long been depleted, leaving only a hollow shell to encase her weakening spirit.
She gave up and leaned back against the glass, slowly sliding down to sit and wait, allowing the sand to pour over the tips of her shoes. The pile would soon cover the floor. She closed her eyes.
"Let me tell you a story before you sleep, Princess."
His voice was right behind her, on the outside of the glass. She did not open her eyes.
"It is a story of a woman much like yourself."
She heard the slow tap of his footsteps as he began to trace the circumference of the hourglass.
"She was beautiful…beautiful in her maturity and elegance…the envy of all…
"She was kind…kind in compassion and beneficence to the people…an exemplar of grace…"
"She was strong…strong in will and mind…
"…but such are the vices of women."
Jasmine bit her lip to keep from weeping, but tears were already flowing down her cheeks, dripping onto the thin layer of sand that had crept up to the glass walls.
"She was too beautiful and too kind for her own good…but it was that last quality that sealed her fate. This world is merciless, not in the sense that it is obligated to show mercy…but in that it is a well-oiled system run by cold facts and laws, reality that cannot be challenged by any single mortal. She dared to challenge it…
"Suffice it to say she was put back in her place. With proper decorum, of course. Incurable illness…exhaustion from madness…one and the same, are they not?"
Jasmine covered her face in her hands, openly weeping now as the voice circled the walls of the hourglass slowly, now drifting from the opposite end. The sand was creeping up her legs, weighing down the thin material of her pants.
"She learned her lesson before she died. The harsh but necessary lesson that no one steps outside the system without sufficient power to create their own reality. No one breaks the rules unless they have a new set of them in mind, along with the power to enforce them. She had neither."
He stopped halfway around the hourglass, letting out an amused chuckle.
"She would have been proud to know you followed in her footsteps. She was an idealistic fool, blinded by pride just as much as any despotic tyrant, but shielded by her grace and beauty as a woman."
He continued on until he approached and stood right behind her; she still refused to look at him, her arms now curled around her knees, face buried in the fabric of her pants. The flow of the sand seemed to accelerate, covering up to her waist now, pouring from the aperture in a steady stream.
"So here is your lesson, Princess.
"Learn it well…before your time runs out."
She knew without turning around that he was no longer there. She was alone now, alone in a recurring nightmare that would not stop this time, a nightmare that would bury her in suffocating sands and seal her grave.
She stood slowly, the sand cascading off her pants, and found that it was already rising above her knees. She kept her eyes on the narrow opening, watching her life flow through it to scatter around her.
She leaned back against the cool glass and shut away the sight of the glowing sands that would soon engulf her completely. At least she would not die by the monster's hands. She would die peacefully, perhaps slowly and painfully, but without surprises or overwhelming fear.
She knew she had crossed over that thin line from sanity to madness when she began to hear music in her head.
It was a slow stringed song, wafting through her senses in a steady rhythm against the relentless stream of sand. She smoothed her hands over the rising surface, letting the grains run through her fingers in time.
Her tears ran down more slowly now, no longer in agitation, but in quiet mourning for everything she had lost and still would lose. She had failed. She had failed her kingdom, her father, her fiancé, and even the dark sorcerer who needed her to stay alive. She had not been able to save any of them; in the end, she was still the one who needed saving.
Perhaps Jafar was right. The world was merciless and bent to no one's will. It could only be changed, shattered, or molded by power. And she was powerless. Perhaps she had always been.
Images flew before her eyes with the quiet song of death threading through her mind. The first time she had been trapped like this, she had fought. She had fought so hard to escape, even when her strength had failed and she could hardly breathe under the pressure of the sand. She had reached for the glass even at the last second before she had gone completely under, begging to be saved. Expecting to be saved.
Somewhere along the line she had stopped expecting salvation. Stopped waiting for heroes and luck and fate to grace her with victory and continued health. Perhaps she had already taken the full measure of leniency allowed each mortal life, and now it was time to pay her debts. Nothing was free. Not power, not life, not even freedom itself.
The haunting song swelled toward a climax of soul-rending beauty. She bowed her head until her chin touched the sand, her arms already trapped by her sides. This was the end.
But on the last note of the song's pinnacle, the glass shattered.
Her arms shot out instinctively for balance as the glass disappeared and she fell backward. She was moving through sand that no longer constricted her, its coarse granules rapidly scattering from her body. It felt alien to have such freedom of movement again, to feel the air on her skin and hear her stumbling steps on the hard floor before she fell into the grasp of someone's arms.
"Jasmine."
She flinched away violently, panic shooting through her veins. There was no crunch of glass under her feet, no abrasive texture of sand. It had all vanished.
The apparition clad in blue and black reached for her, dark eyes alight with cold fire. The sight of his relentless gaze seized her with terror. The latest game would now begin. And it would likely end with the nightmarish creature descending upon her once again.
"No," she said, shaking her head, stepping back. "No…"
She turned and broke into a run, somehow still finding the strength for flight. She did not know where she was going, merely following the never-ending line of torches in front of her.
But he caught her in seconds, drawing her back as she kicked and screamed, struggling to be free, refusing to be trapped again.
She heard him shout her name as through a thick veil, drowned out by the sinister chorus of fearful memory. The monster's ominous steps returned, either in her head or in the echoes of the hallway; she could not be sure. The line between illusion and reality had long been shattered to pieces.
Cool leather covered her forehead, and she tried to jerk away from his grasp only to be held firmly in place by his other arm. She could no longer scream, reduced to pitiful sobs and incoherent pleas.
A slow wave of clarity washed through her senses as clean water over a muddied surface, and she felt her breathing slow, her heart no longer racing out of control. The tension seeped out of her in increments, and she went slack in his arms.
He removed his hand from her face and she collapsed, unable to stand on her own. He held her up with a grunt of effort, not letting go of her waist or her arms. She heard his voice clearly in her ear.
"You survived."
Relief and strain were mixed in his voice, throwing her into confusion once again. Was he…could it be him? Was he real this time?
He turned her slowly in his arms and let the wall behind her support part of her weight. He looked into her eyes with a sharp, searching gaze, perhaps trying to find something lucid, something other than madness and terror. Her breaths began to quicken again as he touched her face.
"You're free."
She froze at his cool statement, hit by a wave of sensory memory and cruel images of a bloodstained white dress and a woman's silent scream.
She waited helplessly for the blade to drive through her flesh, but felt only the leather of the gauntlet brushing her face.
"M…Moz…enrath…"
His grim expression tightened as she spoke his name. Was he real this time? A desperate prayer rang through her mind as he shifted her in his arms. He felt and sounded real. He looked every bit as real as she remembered. But who was he?
Would he kill her because his own time was running out, or for his own sadistic pleasure, as his master would have?
Panic shot through her when he tried to pull her away from the wall. A flash of crimson and a demonic howl entered her mind, rooting her feet to the ground. The creature was still here. It would find them. And it would take him from her as well. It had to be what Mirage intended in this second round of hellish torment.
Click click click.
She screamed and he caught her before she could sink to the ground in fear. He gripped her shoulders forcefully and stared into her frightened eyes, ignoring her frantic search for the source of the sound.
"It's here…it's here again…" she stammered, shivering in his grasp, not hearing his words. "It's here…"
"Jasmine. Jasmine!" he shouted, and finally broke through the barrier her mind had thrown up against the telltale sound of the monster's approach.
"It's here and I can't run away it killed him it killed Aladdin I can't—"
"Jasmine!" he roared, shaking her roughly by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. He held her in place with strong hands. "It's not real! It's all in your head. You have to fight it. There's nothing there. Mirage is fucking with your mind."
Click click clickclickclickclick
She closed her eyes as the tattoo quickened in a deafening crescendo, preparing herself for death. He did not understand; she had seen it before. She had seen its demonic form as it chased her and drove her to the limits of her sanity and over the edge at last. She had seen it kill. The splatter of Aladdin's blood across the stones was clearer than any reality she had faced before.
A forceful slap to her face jarred her temporarily back to full awareness, and his expression of tightly contained fury swam into view once more.
"Get a hold of yourself," he gritted out. It was not the first time she had heard that command from his lips. Was he an illusion then? Was this another vision of the past?
Had she gone as mad as the flaxen-haired princess he had once saved from death?
"Mozenrath…" she whispered, trembling. "Help me…"
He shook his head, and through her madness she could somehow see a flicker of grave concern. "I can't help you. You have to break this spell on your own."
His lips pressed together in futile anger as he drew her close to him roughly.
"You can do this. Fight it. It's all in your head."
She froze in wordless terror as the shadows behind him took shape, materializing into the grotesque beast that had stalked her throughout this nightmare. The familiar click of its claws returned in measured slowness, taking its time in approaching its unsuspecting prey. Her hands tightened on his arms.
"It's there, behind you!" she cried.
He simply shook his head, frowning severely. His penetrating gaze seemed to scour past the broken pieces of her sanity for something still concrete, something that hadn't shattered into uselessness.
"Jasmine," he said in a low, steady voice. "I need you to trust me. But more than that, I need you to trust yourself."
He leaned closer as the creature reared up behind him, its jaws opening wide in ravenous triumph, and Jasmine's eyes darted in horror to its distorted, shadowy face. Cold leather cupped her cheek and brought her face down to look at him again.
"Trust in yourself, Jasmine. The way I've trusted you."
She looked into the midnight depths of his eyes and felt something within her tilt off its axis. Or perhaps it had only fallen into its rightful place.
His faith in her lay beneath everything else he felt toward her. Perhaps it had begun as begrudging, desperate belief that she could save him as a last resort for survival, but somewhere along the line she knew it had changed as they were both caught in an urgent race against time. He had no choice but to believe in her, but he had chosen her in the first place because he had found her worthy of his trust. She would never let him die, though he was her enemy and had demanded from her what he had no right to have.
And now she knew he would not let her go, offering what little remained of his power to hold her up, to gather the broken pieces of her strength and sanity and place them back in her hands.
She felt the bitterness and humiliation and fear and every other dark feeling she had harbored toward him fade to nothing.
And now she saw that the monster behind him was cringing away, shrinking steadily into smaller and smaller shadows, the fearsome sound of its claws completely absent as it retreated. It dwindled as a dark flame burning into ash until it was no more. And she finally realized that the beast was not in her head; it was in her heart.
It was the same beast that had first begun to haunt her in the sands of the Mirror, carving out a space in her heart as its own toxic dwelling. It had lain dormant, testing its claws on her love and trust and sanity each time she had been forced to face the darkest parts of herself, but she had always turned away in fear and denial before she could see it as it truly was. It was a monster that fed off her hate and rage and bitterness, her desire for vengeance and her poisonous pride. It had thrived off her hypocrisy, her vehement belief that such darkness could not exist within her. All the while it had been waiting patiently for the day it would be liberated in full to consume her alive. Mirage's power had unlocked its cage and unleashed it. But it had all originated with her.
And she was now free from its grasp.
Her eyes swept his face in wonder and gratitude she could not yet fully understand. The concern had not faded from his expression.
She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. A second later his arms encircled her in return, and she felt the fraught tension leave him. She did not let go for a long moment.
He finally pried her hands from his shoulders and she stepped back, trying to form words.
"Y…you…I…"
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that would have been cruel if she could not see his eyes.
"This is why princesses should be seen, not heard."
Despite herself, despite everything, she laughed. This entire string of nightmares…all of it had been an illusion. Reality reestablished itself in her mind, no longer blurred together with the terror of her own imagination. The faceless girl, the frozen wedding, even Aladdin's death…all a seamless nightmare seeded by her own mind and given shape by Mirage's magic.
She felt a new faith take root in her heart, faith that they would win this relentless war, not separately, but together. The song in her head returned, and she saw that the ethereal tune actually emanated from a stringed instrument at his side. The song had been real, somehow breaking the illusion of the hourglass with its power. The small harp was attached to his robes, and he drew it up now with his gauntleted hand, clasping its frame tightly as he pulled her away from the wall.
The urgency of their circumstances slammed down around her once more as they began to move down the corridor. He released her from his grasp and brought both hands up to the strings of the harp.
But they were not running; she trusted that the slow, even pace he had set was part of a true escape this time as he ran his fingers across perfectly tuned strings, continuing the melody she had first heard through a pane of illusory glass.
The walls shimmered almost imperceptibly, but she saw it and felt a shiver of anticipation, the hope of a slave about to win her freedom. She drew closer to him, looping her arm around his waist as he played on, sending cracks through the foundations of this massive illusion with the power of the simple melody crafted by his hands. She did not question what kind of magic this was that could counter such dark evil, but she trusted that it would not fail.
The walls began to fade as in a haze, the stone tiles no longer so crisp in texture, the torches dimming slowly. With each steady step forward, their surroundings receded, and the floor beneath them soon flickered into darkness.
The corridor around them disappeared completely at last, and she was able to breathe freely for the first time in ages. She looked at him then, to thank him somehow, to tell him with coherence this time what she felt. But she saw that his eyes were coldly focused once more.
"Hold still. Do not move. And do not doubt me. Do you understand?"
She nodded and held onto him tightly, and felt the slow vibrations in his chest as he spoke foreign words in a lilting pattern.
The air blurred around them, her body tingling with the feel of magic as his spell wove around them and through them both. The tug of the illusionary world released her reluctantly, finally broken by the continuous threads of his magic. In the next second he finished the spell, and she opened her eyes to solid reality.
The cold stone walls of the Citadel were the most welcoming sight she could have ever imagined. She buried her face in his robes, weeping in joy, now fully free of that nightmare world. He drew her to the side with gentle urgency, and she felt the edge of a table at her back. The rest of the room behind him was completely bare.
She slowly disengaged herself from him, her arms falling to her sides as she looked up into his relieved face. But alongside that relief was that ever-present tension and determination, the knowledge that his work was not yet complete.
"Thank you—"
"You survived," he said simply. "You didn't allow her that victory."
"No, I gave up," she said, touching his face. "I was only waiting to die."
He frowned. "Do you know how long you were gone?"
She shook her head.
"Seven days."
Her hand froze on his cheek. "Seven…days?"
"It took me five days to string that harp, the only instrument that can dispel illusions. I had almost no energy left to give it the potency required to counter Mirage's power. I spent days trying to get into Morbia even when it was finished."
"How did you get in?" she asked softly.
He shut his eyes briefly; his voice was even and absent of emotion. "Fashir."
She stared at him, suddenly feeling that this life-and-death struggle had expanded to a scope far beyond their two individual lives. If Fashir had appeared to him as well…
"He opened a way for me. And he held off Mirage as I went to find you. They're both still in Morbia, but he won't be able to hold her off forever."
"What do I need to do?" she said levelly.
He turned his head to the side, and she followed his gaze as it came to rest on the small glowing hourglass standing on the table behind her. She stared at its fluorescent sands. The top half was nearly empty. Days must have passed even during his short trip to rescue her. By all appearances, it was already the thirtieth day. She looked back at him with renewed urgency and gripped his arms.
"Tell me what to do."
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Do you forgive me?" The second question came more slowly, as if he feared the answer.
She did not reply for a moment, merely searching his worried gaze.
"I can't say you're a good man," she began. "You're not. But…you're good to me."
Something in his eyes seemed to falter at those words, something deeper than she could perceive or understand at the moment. She continued regardless, fully conscious of the time ticking down just a handspan away from them.
"And you saved me," she said, her lip trembling. "Your faith in me…the faith you've had all along…that's enough to save you, Mozenrath. I don't know if you love me, but just knowing you believe in me is enough."
She raised her face and kissed him, her lips joining his in a slow dance of passion and promise that would soon be fulfilled. His gauntlet encircled one of her hands, their fingers joining together as he guided her to the side, toward the glowing object that would have sealed his doom.
She looked directly into his eyes as they parted, and whispered the words.
"I forgive you."
Their hands touched the hourglass at the same time, fingers unlacing as each of them grasped one half of the wooden frame.
Without words or any other promises, they turned the hourglass on its head.
Something seemed to swell deep within her, a frightening force she had never felt before. A surge of pure power suddenly erupted through her and shot down her arm toward the hourglass, power that originated in the depths of her heart, its poles impossibly transformed from hatred to love. She screamed and shielded her eyes with her free hand as the hourglass flashed violently, its fluorescent sands pulsing wildly and lighting up the blackness of the room. His hand covered hers, preventing her from letting go of the object before the appointed time. He brought his other arm around her waist and held her close.
The sands swirled wildly inside as if in final protest, fighting to preserve their fated flow. But she held firm and forced herself to stare at its glowing surface though it pierced her eyes, and she felt the last of the power within her body pass through her hand into the hourglass. The cursed object glowed one last time before fading steadily, the color draining from its sands until there was no trace of its unnatural fluorescence at all. The granules inside were now the tone of earth.
Slowly, hesitantly, they both let go of the hourglass. Her entire body tingled with the aftershocks of the mysterious power she had not known could exist within her. And then the hourglass and its curse were all but forgotten as he took his first breath of real freedom, liberated from his invisible, immutable shackles, and they moved toward each other at the same time. She kissed him feverishly and he crushed her to him, lifting her up against the table. She bent back as he leaned into her, lips caressing her teary face, her jaw, her throat.
The deep rumble of something far above them shook the ceiling and walls with faint tremors, and the hourglass beside them rattled.
He drew her upright slowly, his arms still encircling her waist, and they both looked up toward the invisible force that had arrived on his land, still many layers of earth above them. She saw the spark of relentless fire in his eyes, the determination to settle this old score once and for all with his newfound power and renewed life. She held onto him firmly as he moved to disengage himself from her.
"I'm coming with you," she said simply.
He looked back at her with a grave expression, about to tell her no.
But she raised one hand to his lips to silence him, and it was his turn to stare at her in surprise. Her body was glowing faintly in the aura of the magic that had broken the curse. It felt as if every inch of her hummed with supernatural power, the intoxicating thought that she could bend the very air around her to her will. Was this how it felt to wield magic? Was this what bound Mozenrath to his gauntlet in helpless addiction?
The wordless awe in his face soon twisted into a much more familiar expression—dark, alluring delight.
"I have to say, power looks very cute on you, Princess."