Chapter 12
Alana rode as fast as she could through the forest. The full moon shone above her as the branches of the trees reached out and cut her arms and legs, reducing her dress to tatters. The air rushed past her ears, rendering her deaf to everything in the forest. The shadows of the trees shimmered over her like water, so that she appeared like a phantom.
A half hour…an hour… on and on she rode, the castle being no nearer in sight. The panic feeling in the pit of her stomach rose to her throat. In her clenched hands lay the black rose, piercing her hands with its sharp thorns.
Suddenly, she heard a laughing. A shrill, distinctive laughing. The laugh from her dream! She urged the horse on toward the sound. It grew louder and louder as she rode, it's harsh, strident tones seducing her. Then, through the tall, black trees, the castle rose up ahead of her, its turrets and towers glistening dully in the moonlight. The gardens were overgrown, the windows were black, and the air was bitingly cold.
She threw herself off the horse and ran into the castle. It was entirely silent and completely dark. She fumbled her way up the stairs and tried to run down the hall, but continued to ram into the many statues and lamps.
The darkness enveloped her, and she ran blindly. Her heart beat fast and tears began to fall in panicked sobs. The cuts on her arms and legs began to bleed, making her a dirty, bloody mess, with only one thing running through her mind: I must find Thomas.
She couldn't see a thing, and so unknowingly swept past the stairs that led to Thomas' room. The minutes flew by, and she did not know how long she ran. Dead end after dead end she met, running down hallways only to find herself on a balcony or a room she had never seen before.
Distraught and almost hysterical, she screamed, "THOMAS!"
Her voice rang throughout the hall, reverberating off of lamps and chandeliers. She walked, dragging herself, to a balcony. She sat on the ledge, the tears falling freely now. She looked up at the shining stars, blurred spectacles of light through her tears. Then something caught her attention. A small twinkle of light fluttered at a window above her.
The laughing arose again, piercing Alana's ears. She came down from the ledge and hurried inside. The laughing echoed throughout the entire castle. Wiping away her tears, Alana walked back into the hallway. She kept a hand on both walls, stopping to inspect every door. After ten minutes, she finally found what she was looking for.
She raced up the steps before her, straining her eyes to see any sign of the light. The laughing began to be taunting, as if mocking her. When she couldn't see any light, she raced up the next set of stairs.
There it was: a tiny flicker of light at the end of the hall. She began to run toward it, pushing objects out of her way. The light grew larger with every step she took.
Finally, she found herself in a fully lit room. A fire roared in the hearth, and candles filled the room with glowing warmth. The laughing, however, had abruptly stopped.
"Here to save your one true love?"
A sarcastic, cruel voice filled the room. Alana jumped, staring around to see where it had come from.
"You are too late."
Alana then realized where she was. She was in Thomas' room.
"Where is he?" she demanded. The laughing commenced once again.
"Do you really think you can save him? You, a pathetic, driveling girl?"
"Who are you?" Alana yelled.
"You should know who I am. I am the one who got you and him into this in the first place."
The enchantress…
Alana was confused and unnerved. "Why do you care if I save him? There is nothing in it for you to keep him trapped in that body!" Alana shouted, not knowing where to look.
"Oh, he will die trapped in that body. You are right, there is nothing in for me… except revenge. Satisfaction in the knowledge that he is dead."
Alana swallowed. The clock on the mantelpiece struck quarter past eleven.
"My spirit reigns over this castle, and so long as it does so, nothing can stop him from dying."
Alana stayed silent, letting her eyes roam over the room. There must be something…
A mirror hung on the wall. A gilded mirror, encrusted with jewels, that Alana had never seen before. In the reflection swirled a misty green haze. Intrigued, Alana stepped toward it. The voice fell silent, and nothing could be heard but Alana's ragged breathing.
She reached her hand out as she neared the mirror. The green mist was slowly becoming red, as if blood dripped on the glass. Her hand was almost on it when she was suddenly thrown back by an invisible force.
"Do not dare touch that mirror," the voice said, becoming deep and terrible. Alana sat up on her elbows, her eyes still fixed on the mirror. The silence hung in the air for another moment or two.
Alana racked her brain to try and think of a plan. Her eyes suddenly went to the door in the corner of the room.
"Why do need this revenge so very much?" Alana asked, hoping desperately her weak plan may work.
The voice began to speak, as if happy that someone wanted to hear about it, and ranted on and on. Alana began to edge herself on her elbows to the door. The voice spoke of the unicorn, and of the insolent prince, obviously not noticing Alana slowly turning the doorknob.
She opened the door but a crack, and peered in. Down the short hallway she could see the fairies, glowing dimly in the dark.
"How terrible!" Alana said loudly and slowly. The voice ignored her interruption and continued to talk. The fairies, however, heard Alana and fluttered excitedly to the door.
"Help me, please!" Alana breathed frantically.
The three fairies nodded, their faces alight with mischief. The enchantress' voice still spoke of Thomas and his innumerable flaws. The fairies flew into the room silently, stopping behind a large vase. Then they flew, three blurs of color, to a cauldron that hung above the fire. Alana took her eyes away from them and focused on the voice.
"He is a despicable creature, and deserves his fate," the voice finally finished.
"But, then why would say in the curse that it could be broken when it fact it could not?" Alana asked, glancing quickly at the fire. Small sparks occasionally were sent flying into the cauldron.
The voice was quiet, as if it were thinking.
"How do you know what the curse says?" it said finally.
Alana opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly a large CRACK resounded throughout the room. She looked over at the fire, but could see nothing but large, golden sparks and a red, thick vapor beginning to spread.
"WHAT? WHAT IS GOING ON?" the enchantress's voice yelled terribly. The vapor, however, had become a thick smoke and began to cover the ceiling. Alana threw herself onto the floor, crawling to the mirror.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU INSIGNIFICANT FOOL?" the voice yelled, except this time it sounded faraway, as if it was in the room next door. The smoke filled the room, and Alana could barely hear the enchantress beginning to scream.
She finally made it to the mirror. She stood, facing it, swiping smoke out of the way. Instead of a swirling circle of color, however, she saw a horrible, twisted face. A face that was once beautiful, but had since been distorted into a sneering, cruel face.
"You shall never leave this castle alive!" the face screamed. It was the voice, the enchantress' voice.
"Why? Why would you waste your time pursuing revenge?" Alana screamed back. "All that you said about him is a lie! I love him!"
The face's eyes and mouth opened in shock. Alana took the spare moment to grab a candlestick nearby.
"I am sorry you have spent your entire being chasing a lost cause," Alana said.
"NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME! I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED!"
Alana brought the candlestick crashing into the mirror. Shards of glass flew as a blinding white light filled the room. Lightning crashed outside and the gray clouds were sucked into a swirling whirlpool, before all was gone, in a wave of light.
It took a moment for Alana to collect herself. She sat up, holding her head. The room somehow, seemed brighter and more welcoming than before.
She stood up and ran down the short hallway. Thomas lay, utterly still. She rushed to sit down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Oh Thomas," she whispered, the tears returning. "Please wake up. Please."
She lay her head down on his chest, which was still warm. Her tears fell onto his velvet cloak.
"Don't leave me," she said, closing her eyes and stroking the soft feel of his fur. "I love you."
The clock struck midnight.
Alana opened her eyes to find herself in the ballroom. The morning sun poured in, giving the room a cheery glow. She was wearing a fine satin golden gown, long white gloves, and sparkling shoes. Her hair was pinned up and tidy, her wounds were all healed, and reaching up, she felt a small tiara on her head.
She looked around, perplexed beyond imagination. At the bottom of the crimson steps stood a man, who looked up hopefully at her. Feeling lightheaded, she walked down the steps slowly and carefully.
The man was in fact quite young, probably about her age. His hair was long and golden, pinned back at the nape of his neck. He was dressed all in gold, just like her. He was astonishingly handsome, and he smiled at her as she neared, making her almost feel faint.
She finally reached the bottom step. A smile threatened to overcome her lips as he kissed her hand.
"Good morning, Alana," he said. Struck by an impulse, she took off her glove and touched his smooth face. His eyes closed as her hand wandered to his forehead, his cheek, his chin. They opened again when she stopped.
His eyes were a vivid, vibrant green. She knew those eyes; they looked back at her with more love than the world could possibly hold.
"Thomas," she breathed. He smiled.
"Alana," he said, drawing her close to him. "I love you."
And with that, he kissed her. Alana felt her heart soar, and with the warm sun on her face and his strong arms around her, she smiled through the kiss. She was home.
