Philip stood in the door of a tiny home, sick at the sight before him. A woman lay motionless on the ground, the blood that pooled beside her thick with the poison of the black sprite.

They had found the home, it seemed, too late, and he stood motionless as Eric came up beside him.

"I found the father," he spoke quietly, but as Philip whirled to face him, he shook his head soberly, "A red wing found him in the barn,"

Philip cursed, kicking over a basket by the door, sending it flying into the night.

"She's broken her word." he growled the words low, "This was in my kingdom." the hand that held his sword moved with every word. "We can not abide this."

"But what can we do?" Eric's voice was raw. They had battled the Enchantress, and each vividly remembered how that war had ended. There was a sound behind them, and both turned swiftly, weapons raised.

A boy stood there, his face was dirty and his eyes were wide with fear, but he waved to them as if they were to follow. He took a few steps, then looked back. Sending each other concerned looks, the two men followed the boy. He led them behind a barn, then stopped behind a feeding trough. Reaching down he lifted a blanket and revealed a tiny, sleeping infant.

"Master Lucas," he began softly, "He lets me sleep in the barn some nights. He woke me, he gave me her and told me to run. I ran." he looked up, and frightened tears gathered in his eye. "I saw those things coming and I ran and hid here. They left when they couldn't find us."

Eric clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, "What's your name?"

The boy dropped his head, "Name's Chip, but people call me Bashfull."

"You did well, Chip, you were very brave." He smiled at the boy while Philip very carefully lifted the child.

"Do you have family? Someone you can go to?"

The boy shook his head, watching Philip with the little girl.

"Will she be alright?" he asked, and Eric met Philip's eye over the boy's head.

"You both will be, how about you come with us, and you can make sure she stays protected?"

The boy nodded solemnly, and Eric and Philip each mounted their horses with a surprising new addition and headed back towards Marcus's castle.


Ariel paced her narrow tower, teeth worrying her nails as she frowned out the window, wondering if Eric had found the child, if they were safe.

She crossed to her writing desk, looking for a distraction, flipping through some of the first things she had written as he tried to learn who she was and why the Enchantress had locked her here. She found the pages covered in her attempts to draw the Enchantress's second face, and any details about the woman she could remember. Staring at them just made Ariel more anxious, and she tossed them aside with a frustrated sigh.

Crossing to the mirror, she stared into it. On half a whim she snatched up a piece of paper and in less than perfect spelling scribbled out "Sho me Erik."

She held it up emphatically, glaring at the mirror, but nothing happened. With a sigh, she flipped the paper away and turned away, just at the reflection shimmered.

She spun back, thinking it had worked! When a moment later the face of the Enchantress appeared.

Ariel's face screwed up as the woman asked the same vain question, hating the smug look on her face. Then as the mirror began to pulse with an answer, Ariel darted forward. If Eric had been too late, if they had not found the girl she had seen before, she may be able to see what the Enchantress had done to the child.

A scene shimmered into view, two men on horseback, riding through a green meadow. She peered into the glass, so close her nose almost bumped it, giving a little puff of happy relief when she recognized the first horseman as Eric. He was alright, and he had found the child! She was held against his chest as he rode, but she could just make out the little tuft of hair above the shawl she was wrapped in.

Ariel smiled, but the face vaguely reflected in the scene did not. The Enchantress's eyes filled with rage as her lips curled.

"You!" the voice cut sharply through the mirror, as she glared at Eric as he rode. "You're supposed to be with that mermaid."

Ariel's blood turned cold, and she stumbled back, the mirror slipping from her hands. Her hands startled to tremble as the Enchantress's voice floated up in a menacing hiss from the fallen mirror.

"I will find that child, then I will make you pay."


Marcus turned his head suddenly, wincing slightly. He shook it as if to clear it, wondering at the sudden twinge of pain. It faded, and he returned to the papers at hand.

It returned a moment later, this time sharper, and it carried the floating sounds of a voice.

"Marcusss," it called, and he stumbled up in alarm. He looked about the study, but no one was there. "Don't fight me, Marcus, I just want to talk." The voice spoke again, clearer now, and the king blanched even as he swore, recognizing the voice of the Enchantress.

"That was a nasty trick you played on me, not telling me you had magic," the voice pouted, "I tried to come see you myself, but I could feel it keeping me out."

Marcus stomped to the door, and threw it open, trying to ignore the voice in his head, refusing to answer it. He could feel how faint the connection was, knew that though she had wormed into his thoughts, she would be blind and deaf to what he was seeing or doing. But if he responded he would strengthen the connection, and he refused to do that. He searched for Belle almost in a panic, wanting to get a message to her, so she could warn the others, but she was nowhere to be found.

The voice persisted as he stormed into the kitchen, surprising Betty speechless, but not finding Belle.

There was a sharp, sudden pounding on the outer door, and Marcus darted up the stairs from the kitchen. He beat a confounded Andrew to the door and swung it open himself.

Philip and Eric stood there, a child inexplicably in each of their arms, and they pushed their way in before Marcus could speak.

"Marcus, perfect, we need your help," Philip was saying, as he set down the boy he held. "This is Chip, he needs a place to stay. This is Snow, or at least that's what Chip calls her" he waved a hand towards the child Eric held, "She needs a place to hide."

Marcus blinked at them, trying to keep his thoughts clear and away from the voice that floated in his head.

"Uh, Andrew," Marcus turned toward the butler, "Take the boy to the kitchen, tell Betty to give him whatever care he needs." The Butler nodded, strangely silent about the whole thing, and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, leading him away as the boy stared mutely at the floor.

"Hide from who?" he demanded then, as he turned back to the men.

"The Enchantress," Eric said quickly, bouncing the baby slightly as she began to fuss. "She sent sprite after her. They got her folks, but the child survived, thanks to that boy there," he nodded the way Chip had gone.

"Why?" Marcus said, and Philip rubbed his forehead as if it didn't quite make sense to him.

"The mirror, it showed her as the answer to Enchantress's question. She's hunting this child. We thought maybe you could take her to Aurora, if she's hidden where she is, surely the child will be too?"

Marcus shook his head sharply. "No. I can't." It was a good plan, but he could feel the Enchantress prying at his eyes, his ears, trying to see.

"I know they're in your kingdom," she was saying almost casually, "The same magic that's keeping me from you is keeping me from them. Where are theeey." her voice ghosted away... "WHERE ARE THEY?" It came back, screeching, and Marcus staggered backwards.

"Marcus, are you-" Philip held out an arm to steady him, but Marcus waved him off.

"You have to go, take the child to Aurora."

"But we can't get in." Philip protested, and Marcus frowned,

"I'll have the fairie meet you at the border. You have to go, go! I can feel the Enchantress." He pressed his fingers into his eye as if trying to relieve a burning pressure, "She's tying to get in."

They exchanged looks of shocked horror, about to ask what he meant, when Marcus winced again.

"GO." he growled, and with no more questions, they went.

He stumbled down the hall, toward the door that led out into the gardens. He fell to his knees beside a wall of roses. Magic pulsed erratically behind his eyes and light fairies blinked into view.

They swarmed about him, buzzing with concern for their king. "Find Aurora," he spoke slowly, forcibly, "Tell her to meet Philip at the edge of her wood where we first entered. "

The fairies nodded and winked out of view as his magic receded from the growing power in his mind.

"Enough games," she hissed, her voice felt almost solid. "You will bring that child to me yourself.

"I will not." It was laced with fierce resolve as it battled fading energy.

"You willll." He could hear her sharp smile, "I'm calling on our covenant."

"I would rather die." Marcus's mouth mumbled the words, but they resounded in his mind with perfect resolution.

She laughed, "Oh did you think I would make it that easy?"

The laughter echoed faintly in his mind, as Marcus began to feel something dark and slithering spread through him.

"You will die, eventually, " the voice continued as Marcus's limbs began to shake. He collapsed fully onto the stone pathway littered with fallen petals. Their scent drifted by him and spots of dark floated in his eye, "But not now, no. I have need of you."

His arms began to tremble and shift, snapping at joints that did not belong, his lungs felt as if they were being torn apart as his rib cage separated, expanding his chest, and he fell forward, heaving, gaping at his hands. The skin began to split, sharp bone coming through, as each finger lengthened into a hideous claw before thick fur began to grow over top.

His mind was stuttering, attempting to understand, to hold on as it was being forced back and behind a savage wall of nothing.

"Ah.." she laughed, "The magic within you is making this so easy, you're almost enjoyable to work with."

His spine cracked and arched, and he groaned in sudden pain, a harsh, low growl rumbling through him.

"As I said," she spoke as the last of his thoughts began to wink away, mind clinging in panic to Aurora's face, knowing she would soon hold the child he sought. "You will find that girl for me, and you will not return from this form until you do. There can be no refusal, King Marcus, you are a beast..." her voice rose, booming and terrible, as King Marcus faded into a dense, cold black,

"... And the beast is mine."