Author's note:  All right – who's up for a long chapter?  I thought about splitting it up, but this story is getting really really long chapter-wise, so I decided to keep this part as a whole.  Forgive me if it takes you a while to get through it, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it anyways…

Disclaimer/claimer:  Arielle and Orlando are mine; their parts as Beauty and the Beast, however, are not mine since I did not write the original tale.  Griff is also mine, as is the White Realm, the countries and other characters mentioned, and the Sprytes.  And Elenette would be oh-so-happy if you would review and tell me what you think of her (sorry, but you don't mess with a Spryte when they want you to do something…)

On with the story then.

A certain man had a donkey, which had carried the corn-sacks to the mill indefatigably for many a long year. But his strength was going, and he was growing more and more unfit for work. Then his master began to consider how he might best save his keep. But the donkey, seeing that no good wind was blowing, ran away and set out on the road…

"I'm hoping that that's not the same tree that we passed half an hour ago, or I am most definitely going to sit down and call this whole thing off."

So saying, I flopped myself down onto the large, thick roots of the aforementioned tree, bringing my legs up towards myself so that they bent at the knees, at a height where I could rest my head and hands on them.  There was a slight rustling of leaves in the bush beside me, and I felt warmth there, which told me that the Beast had also stopped.  I heard his breath and sensed his presence, although he was completely invisible.  Anyone else might have found this unnerving, but I certainly didn't.

"Actually, no.  It isn't.  You are doing surpassingly well."

I craned my head up and back, making a sour face in the general direction of his disembodied voice, and replied, "Liar.  You're just saying that."

"Why would I?" came his plaintive answer.

I didn't make an answer to that – I couldn't, and I wouldn't.  Instead, I got up and paced a little ways off from the tree.  I wanted to be home: home, in my rooms, in my chair, in our castle, sitting beside a roaring fire wearing a cozy, soft velvet gown, with one of my books cradled in my arms, as Elenette and my other Sprytes bustled about, setting the room to order and attending to various other things. 

Anywhere but out here, in the middle of a cold, maze-like forest wearing a dark green gown and gray cloak, both of which were made of wool and were therefore beginning to chafe me terribly after all of the walking that I had done that afternoon, as an irritatingly chilly, steady film of icy rain continually drizzled down around me.  Even if the weather in the castle's lands was controlled by magic, which kept it in a winter-like state, it wasn't always nice.

"You said that these lands where we are now are fairly close to the borders of the world beyond – would we see any evidence of this?" I asked the silent air, suddenly inspired.  If I could find out where those borders were and how to recognize them, I could use my magic to calculate the distance between the furthest outlying reaches of the castle's lands and the castle itself.  It was worth a try.

"Yes.  A wall – the one that you undoubtedly saw when you came here, surrounds most of the castle.  However, some of it is not, and you would most definitely be able to tell where the castle began and the world beyond it stopped."

Another thought came to me – irrelevant, but somehow important, it seemed.

I frowned and asked then, "But wouldn't that mean that things…other things, like people and their sort, would be able to find the castle?"
"No." I pictured him shaking his dragon-like head, his long, spiky golden mane whisking across his broad, strong shoulders with the motion. "I put…a spell…on the borders…a long time ago.  That's why no one has ever come here before."

Until my father did.

I bit my lip, glancing around myself, still trying to get my bearings, but also wondering, at the same time, if I was treading on unsafe ground, where I could easily break open the still-tender wounds of the circumstances that had caused our companionship.  I bore him no resentment for the past, and he knew that as well as I did, but still…

"Oh…" I sat down again at the foot of the tree, thought of another question, hesitated for a moment, and then decided to ask it anyway.

"There isn't anything that could find its way in here then?"

A pause, as if he was trying to decide how to explain the answer to that.

"Mmm…the spell that I used to create the borders was meant to keep everything and anything from finding its way to the castle, for obvious reasons," and I didn't even have to think about what those were, "but sometimes it would seem that my will isn't quite what controls everything within my power."

"Something higher." I said.

"Yes." Another pause, shorter than the first. "I suppose that I ought to be grateful for it…but only in a very odd way."

"Me too."

I stood and rolled my shoulders, feeling pangs of pain shoot up and down my back, and knew that I was pushing myself just a bit too far on this.

"Well, perhaps these borders won't be so utterly hidden that I won't be able to see them." I told him my scheme then and he replied that it seemed noteworthy, and so we set off once more, looking for the castle's elusive borders. 

After about a half an hour's walk, I found that we were in sight of a road: a small, packed-dirt country road, but a road nonetheless.  I glanced behind myself, wondering if that was where the Beast was, and said, tentatively, "These borders…can they be crossed by beings within the castle's lands?"

There was a long silence then, and I could feel that his eyes were on me.

"Yes…they can…but not by me."

I drove off a shiver, thinking of how the world would react to a person like my Beast.  People loved beauty: they loved seeing things that were lovely, or dramatic, or aw-inspiring, or simply amusing, but terrible creatures that were ugly compared to other beauties were never things that survived very long in the other world, the place that I had once called home.  I had lost that world, if it had ever been mine or found…and I had gained my Beast and his world.  And when it came down to that…

"Beast, I—"

Suddenly, I glimpsed movement from far down the road.  I wavered on the edge of resolving to duck into the bushes in order to hide from whomever was coming or to remain where I was and look on.  I stood still and watched. 

"Dismissed beast of burden." I heard the Beast mutter.

And it was.

What I now saw was a donkey – soft gray and white, with long, floppy ears and a pair of big, lovable brown eyes – trotting down the road.  Or more like shuffling, it appeared.  The animal's head was drooping downwards, towards the ground, and it was the very picture of abject despondence.  I felt my heart go out towards it, as any young girl's would, and before I knew what I was doing, I had stepped out of the trees and onto the side of the road.  The Beast was standing behind me, staring at me in complete shock, I knew, but I didn't care.  I had to help this creature, whatever its problem was.

Hello there.

The donkey came to an abrupt halt, head and ears shooting up, and its eyes focused on me.  It looked surprised, in an animal's way.

Who are you, girl-maiden?  And why is your voice inside of my mind?

I'm an enchantress.  Don't be afraid.  Your head is downcast, gray-one.  Why is this so?

The donkey huffed a great, heavy sigh.

My master has turned me from his farm, as I am no longer fit for work.  I am too old, he says, and an old donkey has no use in a prosperous farm.  And so I am now without a home, without a master, and without a hope.

Oh, this was not right.  I had to help now.

Perhaps I could offer you my assistance.

How?  How could you help me?

What do you like to do, master Donkey?

Well…I like to sing.

How perfect.

There is a town only a little ways from here – it is known as Bremin.  There are many people there who enjoy music and merrymaking…why do you not travel to Bremin and try your luck there?  You could make your fortune.

The donkey's air became abruptly hopeful and energetic.

I will.  I will go to Bremin, and I will try my luck at making my fortune there.  There is still hope in this world!

Even for you?

Even for me!

Especially for you. 

Thank you, maiden-enchantress.  Whenever you are in need, I shall do my best to aid you in any way that I can.

I smiled and patted him on the top of his head.

"Farewell, gray-one, and good luck."

The donkey trotted off down the road, stopping only once to turn about and look at me for a final time, as if he was wondering whether I was really there or not, and then he was gone.  I grinned brightly, feeling overjoyed that I had helped at least someone today, even if that someone had been an old donkey who had been forced out of his home.  I lifted my long, evergreen skirts in both of my hands, stepping over the undergrowth at the side of the road, back into the castle's lands.  Almost immediately, the Beast materialized, and I smiled at him.

"The castle is only a little over five miles off, milord." I informed him, and was rewarded by a look of utter shock on his dragon's face.

"First off, how did you know that, and so quickly, and second, what exactly were you talking about with that donkey?"

"You might tell me how you knew that he had been dismissed from his job at a farm." I commented, coolly and acerbically.

He gave me a truly sour look then, and replied, "Well, if you're going to be such a princess about it, I shall simply have to resort to teaching you a lesson by either requiring you to find your way through the forest again using not your powers but a trail of breadcrumbs to guide you—"

"Or by hiding a pea underneath my mattress so that I'll wake up black and blue with bruises all over in the morning?  Honestly, Beast!" I laughed at him, girlishly indeed, and then I finally told him, "All right, fine.  I calculated the distance from the borders here back to the castle with my magic as I was stepping back in." I motioned at the line between the world beyond and the castle land. "And as to what I was talking about with that donkey…"

I then informed him of my conversation with the animal, and by the time that I had finished, he was wearing a look of great amusement – and no small amount of wonder – on his face.  He shook his head, grinning.

"You're amazing even to the animals, Beauty – whether they be simply old, worn-out beasts of burden or real beasts."

"Ah yes," I replied, stepping close to him and putting my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me so that I could look straight into his eyes.  "But there is a great difference in my relationship to an amazed donkey…and my completely amazing Beast."

He looked at me for a long, silent moment then, seeming to be almost startled, and I wondered what thoughts were going through his head…what I had just done in saying those words.  Then, he stepped away from me and offered me his hand.

"Come, milady – I think that you have mastered this task more entirely that I could have imagined possible.  There is no need for me to test you any further."

I took his hand and he drew me towards him, lifting my hand up, imprisoning it with his, to let it rest against his chest, next to his heart.  I gazed into his eyes.

"Let's go home."

*                       *                       *

Exactly two days later, something very interesting – and almost very dangerous – befell the entire castle at Griffith's hands…or rather wingtips, but I digress. 

The Beast and I were in one of the tower rooms in the east side of the palace; he was showing me how to cast a protective spell, which would shield me from anyone's magic but my own.  Doubtless, it would be very convenient to have as an asset in my very quickly nearing assignment. 

Together, we stood at a large wooden table, which had a rather long and full skirt of dark green silk trailing around its entire length; the top – however – had been left bare.  All over it, we had scattered the instruments of our spell-working: glass vials and jars, coils of heat-reactive iron which produced the flames that were needed to heat the liquids within the glass, books, papers, quill-pens, and ink wells.  I wore a gown that was a dusky gray-lilac satin, dull and heavy, but adequate for wear during my work with magic and enchantment studies.  The Beast wore his usual sleeved-robe, tunic, breeches, and boots attire.  The boots were smooth black leather that went perfectly with the deep, dark green material of his clothing, which was trimmed with a tawny, almost brass-like gold.  I assumed that he thought both our attire suitable for this afternoon's project, or he would have said something about it. 

Five of the Sprytes, two of which were Elenette and Raethyr, and Griff, of course, were also present.  Beside me, the Beast was leafing through the pages of a large, ancient book, his large golden eyes scanning over the faery words within it with startling rapidity as he ran the tip of the claw that ended his forefinger down the manuscript's many long, fine-printed paragraphs. 

I watched him, also keeping a careful eye on the burner and glass that stood near my right hand.  I couldn't let it begin to smoke, or the whole experiment would be impossible to enact.  Finally, the Beast seemed to have found what he was searching for and stood up straight, towering above me at his full seven-odd-feet of height, looking satisfied.

"All right, unless somehow this page has been torn out and replaced in a different section of the book, and if I remember all the parts to this spell correctly, I think we'll be able to see if the shield will work.  Here, take this."

He handed me the book, which I had to hold with both arms in order to keep it aloft, for it was – not too surprisingly – rather heavy, and then picked out, from among our material spell-assets, a vial three-quarters of the way full of some sort of strange, alcoholic-smelling purple substance in it.  He caught me eyeing the paragraph on the shielding spell, or 'Derharaein Inis' as it was termed in the faery language, and explained.

"Normally, most spells can be set up by simply saying the few right words – however, some of them are different, such as this spell.  Fire crystals are extremely helpful to enhance one's inborn magical abilities, which is what this amethyst, lavender, violet – or whatever name for purple that you want to use – solution happens to be."

I made a musing noise, nodding to show him that I understood, and bit my bottom lip contemplatively, then asked, "If you knew the right way to use…fire crystals, then…would it give someone who didn't have 'inborn magical abilities' a sort of powers, not as great or potent as that of a faery, but still essentially magical in nature?"

He nodded affirmatively to my conjecture, and picked up the glass that had been sitting on top of the burner, turning the latter's flame down so that it became a very soft, pale blue ring of glowing heat.

"Yes, exactly.  One who makes use of the elements of the earth to give himself magical powers that he would have not otherwise been given is what are commonly known to us: faeries, as mortal sorcerers, wizards, conjurers, and enchanters.  To name a few of the titles of their occupations." He added this last coolly. "Of course, the earthen elements are also a great help to even the mightiest faeries, when they are called for."

"So, along with this…essence of fire crystals," I quickly improvised the name, which made him smile a bit with inner laughter, "The book says that we're supposed to use a rock's tears…"

He held up the glass, its shimmering, silvery contents sloshing around a bit with the movement that his hand caused.  "Salt, mica, and rain water, basically."

"All right then…" I took this in before going on, "That, and a drop of all-forests' sap," which was a mixture of several different trees' sap: thick, sticky, and amber in another glass vial, "And that's supposed to give me a shield from anyone else's magic?  Now I need an explanation for this, teacher."

He grinned, flashing his brilliant white teeth, and took the last vial from me, beginning to measure out the exact requirements for the spell, speaking as he worked.

"Here you have your three basic elements: fire, water, and earth – oh, and air, because it also calls for a breath from the object in question's lungs, meaning yours," he said, looking up momentarily to make eye contact with me, "And together with the right words, they will create a shield to make you invisible to any kind of magic, or otherwise simply untouchable.  It's really very simple."

He finished with the potion and gestured for me to move into the center of the room.  As I backed up, a sudden thought popped into my head and I asked, "Um…what would happen, hypothetically, if somehow the person who casts the spell fudges on it a bit?  Would anything happen then?"

He furrowed his brow, seemingly in confusion, but deep down I received the sense that he knew what I meant but merely wanted to give me a hard time about it.

" 'Fudges on it'?  I beg your pardon?"

I rolled my eyes in keen exasperation, but didn't give him anything more to indicate it.  "Screws it up.  Makes a mistake.  You know."

He chuckled, lightly and dismissively, stepping towards me with the vial cradled cautiously between his two paw-hands, and replied, coolly, "My dear Lady Beauty, I really haven't the faintest idea of what you mean.  Could you possibly be concerned that I – I, may I emphasize – could really cast any spell in error?"

"No-o." I said, dragging out the word in my nervous apprehension. "It's just that – well, what happens when someone, anyone really, tries to cast a spell and doesn't do it the right way?  Would the results be irreparable?"

That made him pause to consider.  I watched him, trying to see into his thoughts as he cocked his head to one side and looked up at the ceiling, pensively.  "They might be," he finally conceded. "But then they might not be.  I really haven't the faintest idea, as I said before…only in a slightly more jesting tone."

He reached out one hand, a gesture for me to hand him the book, which I did as he continued, musingly. 

"Really, if the someone who is faced with the choice of casting a spell and wreaking havoc with it, should he make a mistake, or simply not doing anything of the sort at all, he should probably stay with the latter option."

"In other words, 'don't take risks'?"

He eyed me carefully then, his gaze knowing and yet also searching.

"Not quite.  Risks are essential to the continuation of our existence, Arielle; they are what help us to learn and what give us new ways to live.  But allowing a fool, or merely someone who has no idea of how to wield magic and enchantment, to do so is more than a risk – it was a deadly error."

He stepped back again, after replacing the book on the table, and faced me. 

"Are you ready now?"

I nodded, taking a breath to steady myself.

"Now or never."

He nodded and murmured a few words in faery then, holding the vial of our spell-assisting potion with one hand over the other, cupping them both, his arms bent at the elbow so that it appeared as if he was holding a large, invisible globe. 

Suddenly a dim but steadily increasing pale blue light – like the fire of the burner – began to materialize in a whirling, spiral-like vortex between his hands.  Then he said another few words and moved his hands so that they faced, palm-outward, towards me. 

The magic that he had created shot at me, making a graceful swoop down to the floor and then swirling up around me, beginning at my feet and traveling up, in a perfect circle, around my body until it had crested above my head.  I heard a faint noise like firecrackers being set off, and there were several flashes of white light, and I closed my eyes against them, bedazzled.  Then a very large, dry, scaly hand took mine and I opened my eyes, looking up and into the face of my dear friend.

"What – did it work?" I asked, and he smiled, nodding.

"Absolutely.  Now even I, your teacher, couldn't reach you with any sort of spell…at least until about three hours from now."

"Wait a minute." I said, frowning in confusion. "What protection is a shielding spell that only lasts for three hours?"

He shrugged.

"They last for as long as the person who casts the spell orders them to…which is why you should be very careful with whom you choose to be your partner in this spell.  It could mean your life or your death."

"I'll remember that." I remarked, and then we turned back towards the other side of the room, where Griff sat, nestled quite comfortably in the deep, plush pillows of a richly upholstered couch.  He had also found a book from one of the room's many bookshelves and was reading it, quite intensely, it appeared.  The Beast sent me a raised-eyebrow look and then called to his friend, "Griff, what exactly are you about over there?  Doing some reading up on your magic?"

The goose started and craned his head up at the Beast, looking as if he didn't quite appreciate being interrupted from his reading.

"If you must know…it's a book on sleep."

"Sleep?"
There was more than just a hint of amusement in the Beast's voice.

"Yes, sleep." Griffith fired back. "Entitled 'Sleep, Dreams, and Other Mysterious Realms of the Mind: What A Hundred Years' Sleep Can Teach One."

The Beast laughed out loud then, stooping to pluck the book up off of the sofa, and shook his head as he read the title on its cover.

"Griff, Griff, Griff…" He sighed, chuckling lightheartedly. "I don't know what interest you have in this, but the lady queen who wrote this was more than slightly eccentric – more like wired for life, really.  Being put into a comatose-like state for a hundred years on your sixteenth birthday by a disgruntled sorceress can do strange things to a girl's mind, especially if she's a hermit who's been kept from going anywhere near a spinning wheel by her hypochondriac parents most of her pitiable life.  That much sleep…do you think she ever complained when her children were teething and had to be up, rocked, and walked about all night?  Really."

"Mock all you like, milord," Griffith replied, dismissively, as the Beast returned the book to him. "But it's not quite like that.  You see, there's this one spell in here that I find particularly interesting; it's not just some strange old lady's fiddle-faddle."

"Then what exactly is it?" the Beast inquired, sounding bored.

"It's a sleeping spell."

And then something very terrible – but later, on recollection of the memory, very funny – happened.  Griffith intoned the faery words of the spell, and the Beast, who had been turning towards the door, with me trailing him, whirled around: a look of utter horror on his dragon's face.  "Griff, NO!"

But it was too late.

There was a sound like a violent autumn wind blowing through the branches of trees filled with dried leaves, and something very much like that suddenly blew through the castle, flinging the windows open.  It was too strong for me to stand up against, and I found myself knocked to the floor by the sheer force of the gale.  I heard a dull, sickening thud and a lot of whistling of the wind, and then it stopped. 

Dazed by my fall and chilled by the coldness of the wind, with my hair flying about in a disarray and my clothing mussed, I managed to haul myself to my feet, saying as I got up, "Beast?  What—"

And then I saw him, collapsed half on the floor and half on the couch, eyes closed, and not moving at all.  Griff also had fallen to one side, his head lolling limply.  I inhaled sharply, the sound coming out as a combination of a shriek and a gasp, and fell to my knees beside my Beast, taking him by his great, broad shoulders and lowering the two of us to the ground, cradling him in my arms. 

"Beast!" I cried to him, but it was no use.  He didn't respond.  Oh, what had happened?  What kind of spell had Griff brought down on the castle?  Had he killed them all – all except me, because I had been protected by the shielding spell? 

Frantically, I cast about for the book that he had been reading.  But there were now many books on the floor, knocked down by the gale.  I hadn't any idea of which one to look for.  I reached for the one nearest to me, hoping vainly that it would be the one.  It wasn't.  I dropped the book, feeling as if I was about to break down into tears. 

If they were no longer alive…

Wait – Griff said it was a sleeping spell!

I hastily put my hand up to the Beast's face then, placing it over his nose – or whatever you call a dragon's nose – and felt a hot, steady stream of air being chugged out onto my skin.  I took his hand in mine, trying to find his pulse.

No one in the castle was dead.

They were simply all asleep.

And then, just when I had begun to think that nothing any stranger could happen, the book that I had picked up and then thrown down began to shake and rattle convulsively on the floorboards. 

I started back, still keeping my arms about my Beast, and watched as several rays of yellow light shot forth from underneath its cover.  Then, it blasted open and yellow light had filled the room with a sublime sort of glow.  I looked up and saw, looming over me, with a bright, merchant-like grin plastered onto his round, golden face and tubby arms crossed over his bare chest…

A very strange being.

He bowed to me, golden jewelry clinking with the movement, and I saw that he had no legs; his body ended at his waist, dissolving into a wisp of yellow smoke that emanated from the book's now-open pages.  I gaped at him.

"Greetings, O-Great-and-Fair One.  I am the Golden Genie, whom you have freed from my captivity within the pages of this book, where my last master had placed me.  Because of your valor and kindness, I will grant you any three wishes that you may desire to have fulfilled – but requesting more wishes or an endless supply thereof is not permitted."

"Permitted?" I was too dazed to think clearly. "Why?"

The genie rolled his eyes, throwing up his large arms.

"I don't know.  Corporate policy."

"Oh."

I tried to make myself consider this situation rationally.

The genie, meanwhile, had turned to give the room a thorough – and rather skeptical – once over, one eyebrow arched, arms returned to their former position.

"All right now…what exactly happened here?"

I brushed that off.

"It's a long story.  Look, you said you could give me three wishes?"

The genie nodded, business-like again.

"Yes, O-Beauteous-Goddess-of-Peerless-Perfection."

"Just call me Arielle." I told him. "In that case then, I need to make use of my first wish right now.  There's a sleeping spell over this entire castle – could I wish to have it broken and everything, and everyone, restored to normal?"

The genie made a musing sound, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger, thoughtfully. "Yesss…" he replied. "But the method to taking it away is a rather unorthodox one, I must forewarn you."

"I don't care!  Just take it off and bring them all back!"

I was losing patience, for this situation was not amusing.

The genie bowed again, deeply, and then told me, as he straightened, "Then your wish is my command, O…Arielle.  To break this sleeping spell, I must first cause all of the roses in the gardens which surround this castle in which we stand to grow up and become so monstrous that they cover it entirely, and then you must pluck the white rose that will grow outside of the window here and prick your finger on it.  Then, you must kiss your finger and trace a circle in the air three times, and all will be as it was before."

"Done."

It sounded easy enough, if not just slightly…odd.  But fates, I had been warned.  I pulled a pillow off of the couch, eased it under the Beast's head, and got to my feet. 

The genie waved his arms about, chanting in some strange language that I didn't know yet, and then there was a rumbling all about us, and then a shadow fell across the window, and I saw that all of the roses had indeed grown up to cover the castle, blocking it – I assumed – from view. 

I went to the window and pushed it open, with some difficulty as the roses were crammed up against the glass, and picked the first white rose that I saw.  Then I pressed my fingertip against a thorn, winced slightly at the pain it caused me, and kissed the wound, tracing a circle in the air then. 

There was another violent gust of wind, and the ground rumbled again, and suddenly the genie was gone, having disappeared back into his book, and the Beast and Griff were sitting up, blinking and groaning.  The Sprytes in the room also began to pick themselves up and float dizzily about, seeming to be in wonder at what had happened. 

"Beauty…" the Beast said, and I went to help him to his feet.  When he was standing once more, he put one hand to the side of his head, rubbing it as if he had a very painful headache – aftermath of the spell, I guessed.  "Er…what…exactly…happened?"

"It's a long story." That was becoming a good excuse today. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, narrowing his eyes.  He was beginning to recall what had happened, I realized.  Oh dear fates.  Griff.

"I'm fine.  How did you…Never mind.  Griff!"

I bit my lip, trying not to smile at the thought of the Beast chasing a honking Griffith about, yelling at him about what an idiot he was, and turned to replace the fallen books in their respective places.  But, even if I hadn't yet been given the chance to tell him what had happened in the few minutes between the casting of Griff's sleeping spell and their reawakening, I knew of it, and I would always have that memory.

I also had two more wishes to spend.

*                       *                       *

That night, I had a strange dream.

A dream that I would never forget.

The blackness of peaceful, undisturbed sleep surrounded me at first, like an endless void of warm black velvet: comforting and yet tediously simple.  Then, I felt as if I was awakening out of the darkness, and moving towards a distant, dim glow of soft light.  Slowly, ever so slowly, it came closer, closer, until a flash of brilliant whiteness engulfed me – and then I opened my eyes and looked around myself.

Above me, I saw an enormous, grand room, a ballroom: its ornate gold and silver and crystal embellished ceilings towered over the cream and white marble floor, which gleamed in the light of thousands of candles in their diamond chandeliers.  Its walls were lined with tall, slender windows.  I stood amidst a line of imposing, majestic pillars, hidden behind one.  I felt as if a great, strong wind was blowing all about me, lifting my hair off of my shoulders and stirring my gown.  When I looked at my hands, they seemed to be transparent: hovering on the brink of the tangible world and the endless void of nothingness.  A white glow was around me. 

I looked forward, feeling as if I was supposed to be searching for something but didn't know what it was that I was looking for.  Away from me, beyond the shadows beneath the pillars, hundreds of beautiful, finely dressed people milled about: guests at a fantastic ball.  Music, haunting and soul-stirring strains of music, swelled in the air around me, ebbing gradually into my senses.  Then I let my eyes focus on a group of people who stood only a little ways off from me, circled about each other.

There were three of them: two men, and a woman, and that was not counting the two young girls who were walking away from the three.  The woman was surpassingly beautiful, although she appeared to be somewhat older.  She had a perfect figure which was set off by her bejeweled gown, and she had hair that reminded me of a sun-kissed spun gold, porcelain skin, and fine, aristocratic features with a pair of flashing blue eyes.  To her right stood a tall, attractive young man with dark hair and a kind, jovial-looking face; the two young girls that were leaving the woman's side had their backs to me, and so I couldn't see their faces, but they both had long, straight dark hair, and both wore long, simply elegant gowns.

The man who stood across from the woman, however…

I found myself desperate to see him and nothing else.  I couldn't see his face very well, since he stood with his back almost turned on me, but what I could see captivated me. 

He was tall, taller than either of his companions, and his build was both slender and powerful, a perfect balance between strength and grace.  His hair was a warm golden-brown, thick and unruly, its golden tones reflected in his smooth skin.  I caught a glimpse of his profile every now and then as I looked on.  His features were youthful, with sensuous lips, a straight, fine nose, high forehead, a cleanly cut, firm chin, chiseled cheekbones, and arched eyebrows. 

And his eyes were large, intense, and beautiful: framed with long, dark eyelashes, their irises the colour of the bluest sky, the brightest sapphires.

I know his eyes…

The beautiful youth was talking to the woman and their companion.  It seemed, from the easy, relaxed gestures, expressions, and movements of their mouths in speech, that they were all three familiar with one another.

A family.

Of course.

I continued to watch, wishing that I could hear what they were saying.  A sense of guiltiness arose in me.  Even though this appeared to be nothing more than a dream, I knew too much about magic and my faery side to believe in merely the outward appearances of dreams.  My Beast had once told me that dreams weren't things to be taken lightly, especially in his castle: our castle.  I knew that what I now saw was more than something brought about by my own imagination: this was either something from the past, present, or future.  It wasn't a dream – it was a vision.  

Which is something else entirely.

Suddenly, I felt a strained pressure on the air: pulling at me and hovering about my ears, and then the picture in front of me began to fade, the glimmering ballroom growing darker, and I heard the sound of a fierce, wild, and cold wind blowing about me, tearing at my skin, hair, and clothing. 

"Who are you?" a voice cried through the air, seeming to come from a far distance off.  It began to echo, and then it changed from the musical, tenor voice of a young man to my own voice, driving into my head. 

Who are you?  Who are you?  Who are you?

Then the blackness was gone, as a sharp orange light exploded into my senses.  I was now standing in the shadowy recesses of a mostly darkened room; the light that I saw came from two torches that were set in sconces on either side of the chamber's one door.  The moonlight and starlight that filtered in through the window was soft and silvery, but somehow despairing, as if the moon and her sparkling children knew that something was amiss, that something was about to go wrong.  I became aware of the sound of someone breathing, gently and steadily. 

I turned around a bit and saw the beautiful young man from the ballroom.  This time he was much closer to me, and yet I still could not quite see his face.  He had discarded much of his ornate formal wear and was now garbed in a simple, full-cut shirt of pale blue silk, black breeches, and gleaming black boots.  He was curled up, in a half-relaxed, half-alert position, in one corner of the window seat, staring up at the night sky with an air that seemed both wistful and searching.  Without thinking, I took a small, involuntary step towards him, my hand rising from my side to reach out to him. 

Suddenly, he stiffened, catching his breath, and then he was sitting bolt upright, staring ahead of himself with widened eyes.  I caught my breath sharply and stepped backwards, afraid that he had somehow seen me.  But no – he hadn't.  Instead, his gaze shifted to the door; someone was coming.  I could hear footsteps drawing rapidly nearer. 

The door was flung open with quite a violent force, and the youth stood up, crossing the room in two strides, and then another figure had barreled in through the door.  I couldn't see who that second person was, for the shadows obscured his face and most of his figure, which was slightly broader and noticeably shorter than that of the young man.

But he saw – and visibly knew – who his visitor was.  He stepped forward, towards the dark figure, and I saw his lips move, heard his muffled and distant voice say, "Father?" in a tone of great trepidation and shock.  The boy was then roughly shoved back into the room by the newcomer, who slammed the door to and barred it, then deposited a large, ancient-looking manuscript into the surprised arms of his companion.  Without another moment's pause, the older man cast a dark, heavy cloak over his son's head, blinding his vision, and fled as if the night's blackest shadows were coming to seek his blood.

"No, wait!" I cried, running forward; but I couldn't do anything.  In another moment, as the young man reeled about, trying to catch his balance and detangle himself from the cloak's embrace, heavy blows sounded upon the door, accompanied by shouts muffled by the seemingly thick air, and then it was broken in, and a company of soldiers flooded into the room.  They surrounded the boy, and I saw one figure then who particularly stood out among them. 

It was a man of medium height, with a broad, athletic build, sharp features, and dark hair and dark, piercing eyes.  Something about him reminded me of some type of reptile – or any other deadly creature who was not to be trusted.

They were going to hurt the boy.

"Stop!"

I ran forward, but it was too late; it was futile.  I couldn't do anything.  I was merely an observer of an event that might have already happened, or was happening now, or was to come about in the future.  I wanted to save the beautiful young man, but it was impossible.  There was nothing that I could do.  The scene before me began to blur.  With one last burst of wild, frenzied desperation, I threw myself forward, with the insane thought at the back of my mind that perhaps I could reach him. 

There would never be any reaching him.

He was gone.  I couldn't save him and I never would be able to save him – even if I knew who he was, or how I could rescue him, stop the events around us.

Such things were hopeless.

The tearing wind whirled up around me then, tearing at my clothes, skin, and hair, whipping about me, and its deafening howl filled my ears and my head, and then I awoke, flying up in bed, gasping for breath as my heart pounded in my chest.  I felt ice cold and weak: oh, so very weak.  The calm, still darkness of my room was no longer comforting.  I no longer welcomed the shadows of sleep and dreams.  I pushed the covers off of myself, slid to the edge of the bed, and got up. 

Without even taking a moment to pause and wrap my robe about myself, I ran across the room, my feet feeling as fleet and nimble as those of a deer – a result of my extreme lightheadedness, perhaps, and fell against the door.  I wrenched it open and flew into the chamber beyond, passing through it like a whirlwind.  In less than a few breathless seconds, I had reached the door of that room.  Out into the wide, almost cavernous corridor I rushed, heedless of anything around myself.  And then I ran.

I ran and didn't stop.

The scenery of the darkened castle blurred into flashes and inky black and stark white and murky, indefinite grays.  I had no idea where I was. 

I didn't even care. 

Then I was outside, running down countless numbers of gardens paths, aimless and yet still desperate to keep going in my rapid flight.  Time seemed to slow: I felt as if I was looking for something, and I couldn't find it.  All I knew was my urgent need to keep running, to find what it was that I sought; I was vaguely aware of my surroundings, vaguely aware of the cool night air, and vaguely aware of the dull pain in my bare feet as they slapped against the marble pathway.  

I finally caught a sense of a presence nearby: the feeling that it brought to me was very much akin to the feeling that my father must have had when he had first caught sight of the warm, reassuring golden lights of this very castle, peeking through the trees in the far distance.  I didn't even have to think about who it was.

Dashing pell-mell off of the pathway and into the cold, ice-coated grass – the blanket of snowflakes that were on the ground coating the hem of my white nightgown – I flew to that one reassuring presence, the one thing that I knew was the object of my search, and fell into the strong, warm arms that opened for me, waiting for me to throw myself into their comfort.  I felt those arms close themselves about me then, felt the clawed and scaled hands come to rest against my heaving back, flattening against me. 

This is comfort, I thought.  This is life, your everything, your world.  This is what you love. 

Once there, I stood where I was, never once moving away, as I let myself sob noiselessly, my hot tears falling from my eyes onto the cool white silk of his full-cut shirt, seeping into the cloth and warming against his skin.  I could hear his heartbeat; I could feel his breathing, steady and hot on top of my head as he rested his face there, cradling me in his embrace.  Finally, regaining my senses and my control of my breath, I said, whispering raggedly to him, "Beast, tell me there won't be any more darkness – tell me there won't be any more shadows!  Please, tell me!"

But he was silent, holding me close to him still, and I knew even then that he couldn't tell me what I wanted to hear, as much as we both wanted it to be true.  It was simply impossible.

I couldn't save him and I never would be able to save him – even if I knew who he was, or how I could rescue him, stop the events around us.

Such things were hopeless.

How did I think that…?

But it was true. 

Such things really were hopeless.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *