"My brothers, sisters, and esteemed nobility of France," Père Robert began. "We are gathered together on this sad day to mourn the loss of Anne-Isabelle Gagnier, who has joined our Father in heaven after a long and arduous battle with consumption. While not in line with the traditional ways of the funeral mass, I would like to begin our service with a reading from William Shakespeare, one of Belle's favourite playwrights."

He cracked open the spine of an old copy of Julius Caesar, set it down on the church podium and read:

"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come."

"What a powerful passage," he finished, looking back up at the congregation poignantly. "Belle once thought so too. For those unfamiliar with Shakespeare's works, the meaning of the verse is this: A coward who runs from their fears dies many times. This fear runs so deep that it haunts and torments them until the day they actually die. But a valiant person dies only once. They think of death only when it arrives and do their best to live their lives as fully as possible until that day comes. Brothers and sisters, our Belle was valiant.

"As we all know, Belle encountered many hardships in the past year. She lost her father in a tragic accident, and through him, lost all her chances of moving to a new city to start a business as an up-and-coming inventor. But despite her losses, she still found a way to adapt to her new circumstances. She moved to Rabelais to work as a carpenter's apprentice and took up many other jobs in the city until her sickness got the better of her.

"I know that you all have your own special memories of Belle. Some of you may remember her as the girl who would wander through our marketplace with a dreamy far-off look and her nose stuck in a book. And some of you may think of her as the girl who would share her groceries with the poor and spend her time in the village square, teaching your children how to read. These are all wonderful memories; ones that I would encourage you to reflect on and share with each other in the weeks and years to come. But most of all, I would ask you to remember Belle as a fearless and valiant individual, who, when faced with adversity, held on to her faith and handled everything as best she could. These are qualities that are good and pleasing to the Lord, ones that we all must strive to achieve. Let us pray."

And so, the funeral commenced; a long train of prayers, bible recitations, and hymns about eternal life that all fell on deaf ears for the Prince. He'd been trapped in a perpetual haze since Belle had died, disconnected from everything, unsure if he was awake or dreaming. His servants, Vincent and Père Robert had all tried talking to him before the funeral, and he'd regarded them all with the same empty evasiveness, assuring them that nothing was wrong with him and that he just wanted to be alone. They probably couldn't even tell if he was mourning or not, because he hadn't shed a single tear since Belle died. At least when his mother had passed, he'd felt something. But with Belle, it was as though he'd lost the ability to feel completely.

One of the only requests he remembered making in the last two days was to pay for Belle's funeral. If she really was dead (and a part of him still believed that she wasn't), then he knew he owed it to her to give her a proper send-off. After some debating, he'd asked for the funeral to take place in Villeneuve. He knew that Belle hadn't been happy living in that poor provincial town, but it had been her home once, and it was where her father had been buried. After separating them for so long in life, Adam thought it only fitting that he should bring them together again in death.

As the church keyboardist led the congregation in a singing of some traditional funeral hymns, the Prince's eyes wandered listlessly around the chapel. Beside him sat Vincent. He was uncharacteristically subdued, dressed in a black funeral suit that he'd borrowed from his cousin. In the pew behind them sat Adam's servants: Babette, Cogsworth, Clothilde, LeFou, Lumière and Mr. and Mrs. Potts. Lumière and Babette were sitting beside each other—whether this had happened deliberately or by coincidence, Adam couldn't discern. Cogsworth, Clothilde, LeFou and Mr. and Mrs. Potts had handkerchiefs stuffed loosely in their pockets, their eyes in various states of redness. Unlike in their cursed lives, they'd known Belle personally in this universe, having lived in Villeneuve at the same time she had. Adam couldn't help but be jealous of them for that reason. At least they had had real relationships and experiences with Belle to cherish and hold on to. He had nothing.

The rest of the chapel was flooded with townspeople. Across the aisle and a few pews away sat Gaston, Marie-Élise and two other women whom Adam assumed were Marie-Élise's sisters. They looked near-identical to her—or were dressed identically to her at least. A part of him wondered if the villagers had come to the funeral to mourn Belle, or if they had come to get a glimpse of the prince and marquis sitting at the front of their church. It wasn't every day that the aristocracy attended a commoner's funeral after all. He could have investigated the matter, but at the same time, he was too mentally exhausted to bring himself to care.

At last, Père Robert concluded the prayer of commendation and Adam, Mr. Potts and some burly men from Belle's village came forward to carry her coffin to the cemetery. The procession mutely followed them out of the church and into the humid July air, which contrasted starkly with the overcast sky above them. Once the pallbearers had lowered Belle's coffin into the burial plot, everyone came forward to deposit their flowers into her grave. Among the colourful mixture of lilies, gladioli, carnations, and chrysanthemums, Adam left a single white rose that he'd picked from the castle gardens a few hours before the funeral.

The congregation lingered around Belle's grave to pray and pay their respects. But eventually, they all returned home, except for Adam and the servants.

"Master?" LeFou called out to him. "I think we should head back to the castle soon. It looks like it's going to rain."

The Prince slouched his shoulders, too absorbed in his thoughts to acknowledge his servant's words. "This is all my fault," he muttered. "I'm the reason she's dead."

"Belle was sick for a long time, Master," Mrs. Potts replied behind him in sympathy. "You mustn't blame yourself for what happened."

"No." He shook his head. "You don't understand. None of you do. She would have never been sick at all if it wasn't for me."

And then, because he couldn't bear to keep the secret any longer, he turned around and revealed to them the awful truth, exactly as Belle had explained it to him in the tavern. He told them how he'd killed Maurice a year ago by knocking him over with his horse, leaving Belle near-destitute and forced to work as a prostitute to survive. He'd hoped to make amends with her by giving her a job at the castle, but she'd died from her illness before that hope could be realized. All because of him.

"It's not fair," he croaked, voice distorted by the painful pressure building in his throat. "She was so young. So bloody young. She had a whole life ahead of her, and I was trying to help, but I was too late. I just wanted her to get better so she could… we could—"

"Master listen to me," Cogsworth interrupted gently. "Mrs. Potts is right. No matter what you may believe, you are not entirely responsible for this outcome. You gave Belle a place to rest and recover under proper care and supervision. You provided her with a funeral befitting an equal in every respect. You did everything you could to reconcile yourself in her memory. Any debts to her have been paid, I assure you."

"This wasn't about repaying debts, goddamnit!" Adam growled. "I was trying to save her."

The pressure in his throat reached its peak as he let out an anguished cry. And it didn't end there. Suddenly, his body became racked by uncontrollable sobs as his face grew damp with ugly, snotty tears. He couldn't have been more ashamed of himself. Gone were the years he'd spent under his father's tutelage, mastering the art of hiding his emotions behind a mask of cold indifference. Instead, he was a vulnerable twelve-year-old boy again, mourning for his dead mother and now, for a love that would never be. He didn't understand. How could Belle have died so senselessly, without anyone realizing how special and wonderful she was? Why was it that despite his efforts to use the magic book to fix his relationship with her, he still ended up alone every single time?

Suddenly, someone wrapped their arms around his chest, startling him from his grief. "There there now, love," Mrs. Potts cooed from underneath his chin. "It's all right now. It's all right."

Her hold on him was surprisingly strong, despite her smaller stature. He stood motionless, unaccustomed to the sensation of being hugged by one of his servants before he slipped his own arms around her and returned the gesture. He doubted that she would let him go, even if he'd resisted. They remained that way until his sobs subsided into dry hiccups, after which Mrs. Potts pulled away from him and smiled. Somehow, she'd known that that "sweet innocent lad" was still in him somewhere. It was only a matter of time before he would show himself again.

Once they had separated, Lumière came forward and offered the Prince a clean handkerchief to dry his eyes with. "Let's get you home, shall we?" he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Adam nodded wearily, suddenly feeling like he could sleep for a thousand years.

As LeFou predicted, it started to rain just as they left the village. Adam stared pensively out the carriage window, observing the vastness of the passing countryside like he'd never seen it before. There was so much beauty to behold in those surrounding hills and trees, but what did it matter, if Belle was no longer here to admire them herself? How could the world keep turning; how could his subjects continue with their day-to-day lives when the most important person in his life had been taken from him? It was sad and unfair, but at the same time, he wondered if it was all he deserved for being so selfish.

The carriage passed into the woods, where the open meadows turned into a dense foliage of trees and shrubs. Once again, Adam was reminded of the day he'd gone hunting with his father when he was eleven years old. Had he imagined that the doe he'd seen in the woods was magic? Or was her appearance a symbol of something more, something that would play a critical role in his future, only he hadn't realized it at the time?

His hands impulsively felt for the Enchantress's book, which he'd kept tucked in a drawstring bag next to him. Ever since his almost-wedding to Princess Amandine, he'd made a point of keeping the book close to him, never knowing when he'd need to use its powers again. Now, as he looked out into the woods, an idea came to him.

If that doe really was enchanted, then maybe she's connected to my curse in some way. Maybe changing that moment is the only way I can prevent Belle's death and stop myself from becoming a beast again.

Compelled by this possibility, Adam carefully removed the book from the bag, sneaking a glance over at Chapeau and Vincent as he did. They were sitting on the opposite side of the carriage, too engrossed in a conversation about the speed of thoroughbred horses to notice what he was doing. Hopefully it would stay that way.

The Prince opened the book, put his hand on the page of the map and closed his eyes. He forced himself to remember as many details from that day as he could. He imagined his father shaking him awake at the crack of dawn, his servants helping him change into his hunting clothes, his father's rowdy band of friends greeting him in the atrium before they went to the stables...

And then he felt a sharp pulling sensation as the book's magic carried him to the past once again.

When the mist cleared, Adam was standing alone in the forest. The air was surprisingly cool now. He had to hug himself for warmth as he studied his surroundings. The grey rain clouds had made way for a pale blue sky, and the gold, orange and red leaves on the surrounding trees indicated that it was now mid-autumn. Behind him was a large, twisted oak tree that marked the halfway distance between the castle and the river on the north side of the forest. Adam remembered how his father used to take him there when he'd first started hunting, claiming it was the easiest place to find game for beginners.

The sound of galloping horses startled the Prince from his reminiscing. He dodged behind the oak tree, peering through a dense growth of berry bushes to observe the oncoming riders. There were eight of them in total, all clad in red and gold garments befitting a royal hunting party. In the lead was King Louis-Thomas, sitting proudly atop his Friesian horse. Next to him, looking absolutely miserable on his Arabian Palomino was the then eleven-year-old Prince Adam. Adam's heart immediately went out to his younger self. Even back then, he would have much preferred to spend his time wrapped up in a storybook than go hunting with the King and his obnoxious band of nobles. He'd never seen the appeal in killing animals for sport, especially when forced to do so with a man as impatient and ill-tempered as his father.

"Halt!" Louis-Thomas shouted, raising his fist in the air.

The horses' footfalls grew silent as the hunting party stopped beside the old oak tree. Adam took a few steps backwards. While he doubted that the men had stopped because they'd seen him, it still paid to be cautious.

"You see this big old tree here, Thomas?" The King said, pointing it out to Adam's younger self. "This marks the halfway point between the castle and the river. You can use it as a marker to help you navigate the woods if you ever get lost."

"Right," young Prince Adam said in half-hearted interest.

"Your Majesty, look!" One of the hunters pointed to something on the ground. "Deer tracks."

Louis-Thomas followed the man's finger and smiled. "Very observant of you, Chrétien. And what's more, they appear to be heading straight to the river." He looked back at his son. "What say you, Thomas? Are you ready to bag your first kill of the day?"

"What?" Young Prince Adam replied. Until today, his only experiences with hunting had been setting snares and examining the woods for different types of tracks. He'd had some practice using a rifle but had never killed with one before.

If his father detected any surprise in his son's reply, then he didn't acknowledge it. He'd already dismounted his horse, determined to follow the deer's trail before it went cold. "Well don't just sit there!" he snapped, turning back to Adam. "Do you want to learn to be a hunter or not?"

It was a rhetorical question, which was to say, a question that Adam wasn't allowed to say no to. He silently dismounted his horse and joined his father on the path.

"That's my boy." The King pat his son on the back approvingly. "Gentlemen, stay here and look after our horses. We won't be long."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Bonne chance, mon prince."

The hunting party bid their farewells to the two royals as they disappeared down the path. Adam knew his father would spend most of the walk sharing some mumbo-jumbo about the finer points of tracking an animal, and how proud he was to have this chance to teach his son how to be "a real man." What a load of rubbish, he thought with a roll of his eyes. He considered following them but knew that he couldn't do that without exposing himself to the hunting party standing beside the tree. Besides, his father and his past self weren't the real targets here. It was the doe.

There were a few ways to get to the river from Adam's location. But the closest one to the deer and the one with the best view was through an elevated plateau on the opposite side of the water. It had a perfect overlook of the surrounding forest and was covered with enough trees and undergrowth for Adam to see everything without worrying about someone seeing him in turn. Normally, one couldn't reach the plateau without crossing the river, but as luck would have it, Adam had a magical book with him to speed up the process. He put his hand on the map, conjured a mental image of the plateau, and moments later, found himself sitting directly on top of it.

It was truly a breathtaking sight. While not the tallest landmark in the forest, the plateau was high enough for Adam to see where the river bent to the East to connect with the streams in the nearby valley. Enclosing both sides of the river, stretched as far as the eye could see, were waves of deciduous trees, all flecked with the bright flaming colours of autumn. As he studied the view, Adam felt a small pang of regret. He wished he'd thought of showing this place to Belle when she'd still been his prisoner. He was sure she would have enjoyed being here even more than he did. But the threat of the wolves and unpredictable winter weather would have made it far too risky.

Suddenly, the mysterious doe emerged from the forest, snapping the Prince back to the present. He watched, transfixed as she waded into the river, bowing her head as she took a long drink from its shimmering waters. Adam moved closer to the edge, hoping to get a glimpse of her golden eyes, but it was impossible while her back remained turned to him. From his limited perspective, the doe seemed perfectly ordinary.

Two more minutes passed. The Prince noticed something red flash through the edge of the woods—the King and his younger self, perhaps? His assumption proved correct, as a moment later, they snuck out of the trees and hid behind a cluster of shrubs. His father would likely be urging his younger self to take the shot by now. Adam couldn't hear them from this distance, but his memory of that day was sharp enough to recall what the conversation would sound like.

"There she is, son. What a beauty. You couldn't have asked for a clearer shot."

Adam shakily aimed his rifle at the intended target. He didn't want to shoot an innocent animal, but what choice did he have? If he didn't, his father would have one more reason to call him a failure, and Adam had failed him far too many times already. If he killed the doe, at least he'd have a chance of getting into his good books... for once.

A gust of wind blew across the river, sending dark ripples across the water's surface and rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. The doe lifted her head and flared her nostrils, detecting a strange new scent in the air. Then, she turned her head and looked straight at the Prince.

Instantly, Adam became paralyzed with fear. For the doe's eyes, which he'd expected to be black, were glowing an unnatural shade of gold.

"What's the matter, boy?" His father hissed beside him. "Shoot her! Before she runs off."

"Père… there's something wrong with her," the Prince replied, turning back to his father in panic. "She's not normal. Her eyes… they're glowing." He remembered those shapeshifters he'd read about in the library, magical beings who took on the form of animals to tempt humans into performing evil acts. What if this doe was a demon? Would it possess Adam if he tried to kill it, or put a curse on him and his father?

"What is this nonsense?" Louis-Thomas scowled. "There's nothing wrong with her. It's the light playing tricks. Now stop making excuses and shoot the damn thing already!"

Adam knew it was pointless to argue, especially when his father raised his voice like that. He reluctantly turned back to the doe. But before he could squeeze the trigger, she fled across the river and disappeared into the trees. The Prince looked on with pure devastation. Once again, his chance to prove himself to his father had crumbled into dust.

Louis-Thomas had never looked so angry before. He turned to his son, veins practically bulging through his temples as he said, "You see what you did?"

He shouted an expletive and Adam winced, as though his words had physically slapped him in the face.

"I-I'm sorry, Père," he stammered. "I'll-I'll do better next time. I promise!"

"You'll do no such thing." His father growled. "If you can't kill a simple doe, then you're better off staying at home! What a bloody waste of my time. Come on."

Adam lowered his rifle, eyes brimming with tears. He hadn't even been outside for an hour and was already done for. Not for the first time, he began to wonder if life would have been easier for him if he'd been born a girl instead of a boy. At least girls didn't have to go hunting or live up to the impossible expectations that their fathers enforced on their firstborn sons. Did all fathers treat their heirs this strictly? When Adam thought of the way his Uncle Christophe treated Vincent, he doubted it.

Presently, Adam watched as his father and past self emerged from the bushes, the King storming angrily back to the hunting party while the Prince followed behind him with his head bowed. This was where Adam's memory of his first hunt ended. But with the help of the magic book, he could now watch the doe from the other side of the river and determine if his prediction about her magical existence was true or not.

Adam moved to the left side of the plateau which looked out to the forest on his side of the river. The doe was still there surprisingly—she had only run far enough to stay hidden behind the wall of trees in front of the water. She stood with her ears erect for several long minutes, before turning around. And as she did, Adam jumped back with a start.

The doe began to glow with a strange golden light. Her ears and muzzle shrank back into her head, her body contorting into an upright position as her back legs grew longer and her front legs grew shorter...

Then, the light faded to reveal a woman in a dark green travelling cloak. She briefly looked over her shoulder and Adam let out a stifled gasp. For the woman's face belonged to someone he'd seen only once, but never forgotten. Her impossible beauty, long fair hair, and haunting grey eyes had constantly plagued his nightmares, ever since the day she'd set foot in his castle over five years ago. The Enchantress.

Dozens of questions raced through his mind. What was the witch's purpose for being in the woods that day? Had she been spying on him? Had she been scouting him out, trying to determine if he would be a good candidate for her "beast experiment?" And if so, why had she chosen to curse him and not his father—the man who'd really been responsible for making him the heartless person that he was?

Then, from the Prince's pondering came a stunning revelation. If I'd shot the doe that day at the river, then my curse would have never happened.

He gritted his teeth in rage. He couldn't believe it. The Enchantress had been less than twenty feet away from him, and he could have killed her right then and there if he hadn't been so hesitant...

But you can still change all that. If you kill the Enchantress now, then you'll never be a beast.

The possibility dangled precariously before him, like a carrot on a string. The question was, could he do it?

The Prince had been a cruel man once. But he'd never been a murderer—not a conscious murderer at least. Having grown up reading the Bible and countless books on moral conduct and ethics, he was well-aware of the consequences of ending an innocent person's life.

But the Enchantress isn't innocent, he reminded himself. She wasn't even human! She was a powerful sorceress who'd barged into his castle uninvited and condemned his servants to an eternity as household objects, never to see their loved ones again. She'd taken away Adam's freedom, and in turn, had taken away Belle's. True, the Beast may have incited Belle to trade her freedom for Maurice's, but he would have never imprisoned either of them if he hadn't been cursed in the first place. And what had the Enchantress accomplished by bringing him and Belle together? Heartbreak, bad memories and time that neither of them would get back. Even now, the remnants of the Enchantress's spell continued to torment the Prince as he tried repeatedly to use the book to fix a world that seemed utterly unfixable. How many more lives would that horrible witch destroy if her magic continued to thrive?

Suddenly, killing the Enchantress wasn't just an act of vengeance to Adam. It was an act for the greater good.

But he couldn't commit an act of greater good without a proper weapon.

The Enchantress pulled up her hood and disappeared into the trees, unaware of the Prince watching her from the plateau. But they would meet again. He would make certain of it.

He put his hand on the enchanted book, pictured where he wanted to go in his mind's eye and vanished into thin air.

The book transported him back to the oak tree, at the start of his hunting memory. But this time, instead of waiting for his father and younger self to reappear, Adam made his way to the royal supply shed, which was a five-minute walk from the trail. He used the book's magic to bypass the locked door, and moments later, stood inside with unlimited access to the traps, firearms and ammunition his father used to keep stored away for emergencies. The Prince spent some time examining the rifles on the back shelf before remembering that any acts he committed in the past had to be as inconspicuous as possible. Bearing this in mind, he grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows from the wall next to him. An arrow wasn't as fatal as a bullet, but it was quieter, and therefore more suited to his purpose. He put his hand on the map, closed his eyes and transported himself back to the plateau.

The Enchantress was already drinking from the riverbank when Adam returned to his hiding place. Taking advantage of her distraction, he removed his constricting black jacket and cravat and climbed down the plateau, using the grooves and rocks embedded in the sides to guide him. Once he reached the bottom, he crouched behind the underbrush and waited for the Enchantress to return to the place where she would transform into her human self.

Adam waited and waited and waited. And just when he was beginning to worry that he'd gotten his timing or position wrong, the doe burst through the line of trees in front of the river. Her pacing slowed, and she turned to look back at the water.

The Prince watched the Enchantress with bated breath. It's now or never, he told himself. He carefully notched an arrow into his bow and aimed for the side of her chest, behind her front legs. He straightened his elbow and drew back the bowstring until it was grazing the side of his nose. It couldn't have been an easier shot.

But then, the Enchantress turned her head and fixed her golden eyes on him. The bow began to tremble in Adam's hands. He had an uncanny feeling that she was looking into all of him: his past, his present, his future, the bad things he'd done in life and the good. And that terrified him.

Do I really want to do this? he wondered. The Enchantress had put him through hell, yes. But she was also the one who'd brought Belle to him and shown him what it was to love both selflessly and unconditionally. All his life he'd been surrounded by riches and splendour, with no idea of how meaningless it all had been until the day he'd become a beast. Could he kill the Enchantress in good faith, knowing she'd helped him realize those things? Moreover, if the Enchantress was immortal, then how could Adam even stand a chance of defeating her with a flimsy bow and arrow?

The sound of a gunshot in the near distance startled him from his thoughts. It might have been one distraction, but it was enough. His hand impulsively released the arrow, sending it whizzing through the air, straight into the Enchantress's chest.

By the time Adam looked back and realized what he'd done, the doe had already fallen to her side. Her legs flailed wildly as a pool of blood gushed out from the place where the arrow had struck her.

Adam's mouth dropped open in horror. "No," he muttered. He discarded his bow, in half a mind to run to her, then stopped as he noticed his hands. They were glowing.

"What—?"

But before he could make sense of it all, the woods rapidly dissolved around him. He was back in that floating celestial world, the sun and moon rising and setting so fast, he felt like he was going to be sick. What's going on? The book had never taken him anywhere without his permission before...

Suddenly, he was sitting in the carriage again. And he was in pain. Something scathingly hot was sitting on his lap. He let out a cry of agony as he pushed it to the floor. Looking down, he expected to see a boiling kettle or an iron, but it was the Enchantress's book. Only something was wrong with it. He watched, dumbstruck as its pages and cover blackened and curled in on itself, as though scorched by an invisible fire. Then, the entire tome disintegrated into a pile of ash and smoke.

A bead of sweat trickled down the Prince's brow. He didn't know what had happened, or why. All he knew was that his portal to the past was gone, and now he was completely and utterly ruined.

Good Lord. What have I done now?