There are many who fall from grace.

It was not their fault, they will say. They did nothing to deserve it, they will say. It was a mistake. It shouldn't've happened.

They lie.

They lie to others, they lie to the world around them.

Most of all, they lie to themselves.

They cannot face the truth. That is why they lie. The truth is simple. The truth, is they ignore their actions. The ends always justify the means and there will be no consequences. That is the lie. The sins they commit finally catch up to them, and the card Fate deals was a long time coming. They bring all of it on themselves. That is the truth.

Everyone gets what's coming to them. And when that moment finally happens, they ask the question: Where had it all gone wrong? How had they fallen so far? That is the lie of Oblivion.

It was pointless to deny the truth. He'd figured that out a long time ago. He'd known the exact moment it'd all gone wrong, and he tried to make it right. He tried to be worthy.

But Fate was a cruel mistress had been exiled, left to rot on this cursed island, to fade into nothing.

He didn't accept that.

He would wait. He would bide his time.

He would set things right.

Present Day…

The dreams came more and more frequently in the coming weeks before school. Dreams of shabbily dressed, miserable people. Dreams of ramshackle shanty houses and shady side-deals. Dreams of rotten fruits and vegetables and meat on the verge of maggots. Dreams of a girl with purple hair, helping him out of a ditch he'd somehow fallen in. She looked nothing like anyone in Auradon. Not to say the girls in Auradon, or anyone in Auradon for that matter, was ugly. But she, well, she was beautiful.

Ben shook his head and ran a hand through his honey brown hair as he walked. The grass was deep green, manicured. Perfect. He stared up at the sky. One cloud. Pure white, pleasantly puffy. Perfect. He passed by many animals. Chirping birds, chirping raccoons, chirping squirrels, all as cheerful and bright as the light shining from the Auradon sun.

It was a while before he'd reached his destination. The beaches of Belle's Harbor were some of the most beautiful in Auradon. White sand, relaxing sounds, and a cove off the beaten path no one, not even Ben's parents, knew about. It was one of the places Ben deemed quiet enough to think, along with the Enchanted Lake and his mother's library, of course.

From atop his high place on the cove, he stared at the border of Auradon, the water as clear and blue as the skies above, the foaming of the waves before they rejoined the sea. He followed the sight, past Auradon's borders and over the Sea of Serenity, past everything he'd ever known. At the place where all that was forbidden and evil had been banished to. A place under a constant cover of darkness and saturated with misery. The Isle of the Lost.

The Isle stood for everything Auradon stood against. If it was anything like his dreams, he should be glad he lived in a place like Auradon, a place where everyone got their Happily-Ever-Afters. He lived in aperfect world. He had a perfect life. Every morning was perfect. Every day was perfect. Every night was perfect. Besides, school was starting in a couple of weeks, and it wouldn't be long after before he was crowned King.

He should be happy, right?

Everyone around him, his friends, his family, his soon-to-be counsel, would tell him he should be happy. So then why did he feel so, off?

He became so lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice the girl sitting at the edge of the beach. Wait, what?

Just in the front entrance to the cove was a girl, her long, dark hair creating a veil around her thin frame, the desert-sand color of her skin peeking through. She drew her knees into her chest, tucking into herself. Who was she? What was she doing here? How did she know about this place?

A long-fingered hand combed back her dark locks from her face as she stared out at the horizon with even darker eyes. They weren't just dark though. They were, heavy. What was she looking at? Ben leaned out to follow her gaze. The rocks gave out from under his hand before he even knew what was going on.

He was on the ground in the next second, the wind knocked out of him and a sharp, jagged pain slicing across the top of his head. He smelled copper, and something wet trailed down his temple. He blinked. Darkness covered the sky. What?

He began to see things in the darkness. Dark eyes, focused. A long, slim nose and high cheekbones. A soft, cool touch moved through both sides of his head. Whispers filled his ears. And before he knew it, his mind followed the sweetest lullaby into the deepest sleep.

The Isle of the Lost…

On its best day, the grey clouds overhead added to the dreariness of the Isle's only beach. With more jagged rocks on it than anyone could count, and waves strong enough to send you crashing into them, it was the type of place people went to get scars. To prove that they've lived. That they survived.

Jay had no idea what he was doing there.

He'd been in the city, minding his own business, picking every pocket in sight and filling his own as much as he could. And then, out of nowhere, he just needed to get away. Needed to get out. Something, drew him, for lack of a better word, and somehow, he'd ended up there, looking at the much bigger country across the ocean. Auradon.

He stood where the water met the sea, his feet sinking into the coarse grey sand. He stared at the water. Despite how dark it was, he could see his reflection. For a second, his eyes flashed. A trick of what little light existed here, surely.

It was stupid, he knew. It was pointless to stand here and stare. Stupid to look to what could never be, stupid to imagine a different life. He should've been back in the city, stocking up his dad's shop. He should've been hopping from roof to roof, a dance, a game he'd always won. Besides, he certainly had nothing to prove. He'd survived on the Isle for 16 years. That was proof enough.

But he was here. He was, calm.

A howl snapped him back to the present, and immediately he remembered how far he was from the city. The sky had turned a darker shade of grey. How long had he been out here? How long had he been staring out at the horizon? He shook his head. It'd be nighttime soon, and he didn't want to meet whatever made that noise, or whatever else that could make it.

He glanced back one more time as he made his way off the beach, a terrible decision. A thin white stretch of beach bordered Auradon, greeting him. For a second, he wondered if someone was looking back.

He shook his head again. That was stupid.

Quickly, he made his way back to the city. Quickly, he moved through the streets, taking all of the shortcuts he knew. He wasn't in the mood to get into any scuffles right now. Quickly, he unlocked all the locks to his dad's shop.

It was empty when he opened it.

Auradon…

At first, it was dark. Then it was pink. Then it was too bright. Ben's head throbbed. It was the first thing to move as he began to stir. The world spun when he sat up. He blinked a few times, and his vision finally cleared. He was in his bedroom.

What was he doing in his bedroom? Hadn't he been out earlier?

Rays of light shone softly through the windows. Was it morning already? Pain shot across his forehead as he moved to get out of bed. Instinctively, he brought his hand up to his forehead, his fingers grazing his hairline. It was warm to the touch. Sticky. He pulled his fingers back. They were stained with dots of red. Was that blood?

"What the-", Ben felt along the cut once more. He glanced around for his phone. He could see his reflection in the screen well enough as he pulled back his hair. There were stitches along his hairline. How did those get there? Just what had happened?

He glanced at his nightstand. A small vial of something sat on top of it, a piece of paper tied to it. Ben slid his legs off the bed and reached for it. There were instructions on the paper. Apply thin layer 3x daily for most effective results. That, along with instructions on how to remove his stitches after 10-14 days.

He brushed his fingers along the paper, looking for any other instructions he might've missed, and perhaps the name of the mysterious clear liquid. As he did though, something strange happened. Words began to appear on the piece of paper.

If you're not content with the way things are, there has to be a reason. Find out what it is. Do something about it.

The words disappeared as soon as he finished reading, but somehow, even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn't soon forget them. He folded the piece of paper and set it on his nightstand. When he got up from bed, he began to walk around, began to sort through the questions in his mind.

He glanced down at the paper again. No words appeared, but images began to flash in his mind. Memories. He had been down at the beach, to think about things. To think about school. His coronation.

Had someone else been there with him?

He shook his head. For a second, he glanced up from the paper. And then he was staring out of his window, past Auradon, over the Sea of Serenity, and to the Isle of the Lost. And he remembered thinking about his dreams. About how the other side lived, how the villains lived, how their children lived.

And he remembered the girl from his dreams, with striking purple hair and a mischievous glint in her bright green eyes.

And Ben found he didn't feel so off anymore.