-Nine Hundred and Ninety Seven Years Ago-

Elodie had set everything in order. She had signed documents detailing that Petal Meadows was to officially become a democratic state: self-governed, self-sufficient, and just as important of a kingdom as it had been when a Lord and Lady ruled it.

The gold in the treasury was to be split evenly among all the families, save for the Diamond Star, which would remain guarded at all times. The rooms of the castle had been divvied up to Petalburg's denizens as well, in case any of them ever fell upon hard times. Everything else—the furniture, the books, the food in the kitchens—was to go to the workers who had spent so many years of their lives assisting Elodie and her family.

"My lady, are you sure you want to do this?" asked Quentin, two days before it would happen. His brow was furrowed, and he was biting the inside of his lip, revealing just how uneasy he was. "The people will mourn. The kingdom may still need someone to lead it; such a sudden change to democracy will surely startle them."

"I'm sure, Quentin," she had replied, as strongly as she ever had. Her silver eyes pierced his. "The people will be well. There will be enough gold to keep everyone fed and warm this upcoming winter. Not to mention that the people have always been able to fend for themselves: they are the farmers, the workers, the laborers. They are strong. They do not need me, or any other family to guide them."

It was clear that her advisor was not convinced, but Elodie was now past the point of caring.

Three long, unbearable months had already passed while she finished setting things in order. Each day had seemed as long as a life-age upon the earth. She had been without her husband for four years; her daughter for one; and now even her son was gone.

Tobias had barely turned six years of age, and now there was no knowing what would happen to him.

She had spent the first month tirelessly scouring the world with detecting spells, searching for both of her children. Even though a full year had passed since Rosalina's mysterious departure, a portion of Elodie's heart was still certain that she was alive somewhere, perhaps even on her way home.

Her hopes had been quickly dashed. There had been no sign, nothing at all, to indicate the presence of either.

And so Elodie finally and decidedly gave up. She could not go on living like this, with near everyone she had ever cared about either missing or in a haunted grave. She had completed her goal, the one she had once promised herself: to stop the demon from coating the world in darkness no matter the cost.

She had done it, but it had cost her everything.

And so, exhausted and emotionally spent, Elodie chose to dedicate herself to the last leg of her plan, the one she had hatched after the Great Battle with Arthur and Serene, Ingrid and Matthias.

Each day was spent with her poring over a piece of parchment. It was nothing special; just an old paper that had things been normal, may have been used to write a letter. But in this time and place, it was anything save for normal: Elodie spent countless hours drawing and coloring the parchment, the soon to be Magical Map.

She would start the hero at her own home: Petal Meadows. It was but a short journey from the Hallowed City, and would be a good place to begin a long adventure from. Even though ages would pass, she was certain that the treasure would remain in the castle vault, for her people were loyal and true, and would remain so for many long years.

Next, she illustrated the illustrious Boggly Wood. She had read much about the peaceful place, although she regretted not ever visiting it. It had been something she and Arthur spoke of once; she could not bear the thought of going without him.

Onward she sketched, quill dancing with a soft scratch upon the sheet of paper. Hours would pass with the Lady of Petal Meadows locked away in her drawing room, finalizing the details and strengthening the enchantments she would place upon it.

Locater Spells were simple enough: Elodie coated the map in them. It would be a bread-crumb trail, a lock and key. One could not access the Magical Map's abilities without discovering where the Thousand-Year Door lay; and likewise, none could open the Thousand-Year Door without the powers of the Magical Map.

At last, however, the day had arrived. It was a day of uncertainty and yet relief. It was the day that Elodie would bind her soul to the Magical Map, finally and completely leaving the shell of a life she had led.

Only a few close friends and trusted servants were allowed to accompany Elodie to her chambers on that day. Among them were her advisor Quentin, her handmaiden Cassandra, and her dear friend Alexandra.

They sat in the drawing room with cups of tea, reminiscing on better days. Even though the recollection of olden stories pinched Elodie's heart, there was some strange catharsis to them, as such pain would soon no longer hold any sway over her. Soon… it would all be over.

An hour passed; the sun poured in through the windows, illuminating each face. It was a peaceful day, one that Elodie could not have asked for better. Birds were chirping outside, providing melodious calm, and the sky only had a few sparse clouds within it, of varying shapes and patterns.

Eventually, Quentin and Cassandra excused themselves so they might grab Elodie's ingredients from her study. They knew that a few objects would be needed to cast a powerful spell such as this, and saddened though they were, they had offered to obtain them for her.

Once they were alone, Elodie glanced over to Alexandra and managed a genuine smile. "Thank you for being here today. It wouldn't quite be the same without you with me."

"Elodie," said Alexandra, and her voice was thin as she spoke. "Are you… absolutely certain about all of this? You've thought about all your options?"

She was met with a nod. "I am. I'm… ready."

The lines upon Alexandra's face deepened; shadows danced underneath her eyes. "I… suppose that is good, then."

But Elodie knew the other woman well enough to recognize that there was something wrong; something on her mind. With great gentleness, she asked, "What is it, Alexandra? Please speak your thoughts."

The elderly woman met her eyes. Her own were filled with tears. "It may be selfish, but… I have lost a daughter once. I do not want to do so again."

For the first time since Elodie had made her decision, her resolve cracked. Her shoulders slumped somewhat, startled by the way the woman had just declared her concern and love for herself—and for a long moment, did not know what to say.

"I'm sorry," was what she chose to go with. Elodie reached across and grasped Alexandra's weathered hands tightly within her own, imploring eyes perusing her face. "I know what it is you would say, for Quentin has said the same thing: that there is a chance for me to love again, to have more children, to obtain other friends who will love and protect me. But he doesn't understand. I don't expect him to—the things I have done, have been forced to do… the exhaustion I feel, the scars that remain even years after it is all over… they have not dissipated. I fear they never will; that even if I find many new things to dedicate myself towards, I will never escape the worst moments of my life."

Elodie paused and squeezed the elderly woman's hands. Even so, she managed to maintain her tired smile. "There are some things that cannot be forgotten, some wounds that may never heal the way they should. And that, too, is another reason I have decided this. We were all prepared to die, should the worst occur. But… I don't believe I prepared to live."

A single tear made one neat track down Alexandra's face… but based on the heaving breath she took and the way her palm rested upon Elodie's cheek, she knew that she understood.

Within the next few minutes, all the preparations had been made. The Magical Map was sitting upon Elodie's grand desk, its final details complete. Each destination for the Crystal Stars had been drawn: Twilight Town, Poshley Heights, the isle to the south, Boggly Wood… the spells had been completed. Her ingredients were unpacked. She was sitting in her favorite chair by her favorite window, just… waiting.

She looked between the three people selected to accompany her and smiled. "Thank you for being here. I know this is… unconventional. But it means the world all the same."

"Of course, my lady," said Cassandra with a hitch to her voice. She curtseyed, as polite as always, before the woman she had served for nigh on a decade. "We… are honored."

Quentin sniffed once but nodded, while Alexandra rested a hand upon Elodie's arm.

She took one last gaze over them… and then raised her hands.

The words to the spell flew out of her mouth as smoothly as wind caressed the surface of still water. The crystals upon her desk began to glow and shake from the effect of her words; it was a powerful spell, one that any lesser sorcerer or sorceress would perish before completing.

But Elodie was no lesser sorceress. She had defeated a great demon and helped to save the world—and with this final act, of committing herself to rest by binding her soul to the Magical Map, she may yet be able to do it a second time.

Flashes of white light flickered across the room; Elodie's hands shook and convulsed. She had expected the spell to be painful, but it was not so—it was fatiguing more than anything else, as though it were trying to put her to sleep before the enchantment could be completed.

Strength began to ebb away from her being. Her head slumped onto the cushion of her favorite chair, eyelids fluttering. She could feel rather than see her own life-force fading away, transferring from herself and into the piece of parchment she had so lovingly tended to the past three months.

Just before she could close her eyes was when Elodie heard it: a song.

It was Alexandra. Her eyes were filled with tears and her lip was quivering, but still she found the courage to usher one last lullaby for Elodie to hear… one that she even recognized.

Elodie used the last of her strength to smile. Although Alexandra had never claimed to be a singer of any great skill or repute, in that moment, her voice was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard.

And then she died.