Mapletown was not large by any means, but it fared better than many towns in Parthenia. The source of its fortune could largely be attributed to its location. As it was so far south in the kingdom, it had been left alone for most of the Mouse King's reign. Spared from the destruction other towns had suffered, Mapletown had only continued to thrive once Eric had been crowned king.

There was a peaceful beauty to the place. True to its name, Mapletown had dozens, if not hundreds, of maple trees planted throughout it. The trees lined the streets, grew alongside walls, even sprouted through the center of some buildings. The leaves, which never shed from their branches, were in a constant state of oranges, reds, and golds. The buildings were painted to match the trees, altogether making it feel as though the town had settled into an eternal state of autumn.

The sun would be setting soon. Eric decided that they would stay at an inn for the night, and continue on to Raven's Pass in the morning. Not wanting to go inside just yet, Eric offered to take both his and Rodolph's horses to the inn's stables. As he was leading the animals around to the back of the inn, a sudden shout made him stop.

"Eric!"

Eric turned to see a young man crossing the street in his direction. A smile spread across Eric's face, and he waved in greeting. "Tommy! I wasn't expecting to see you here. What are you doing in Mapletown?"

"Working," Tommy said. He adjusted the strap of a large bag slung over his chest. "The old physician that worked in Mapletown died recently, so I was sent to help until they could find a permanent replacement."

"Is Pepper here too?"

Tommy shook his head. "No. She needed to look after the bakery." He shrugged. "I told them I'd only stay for two weeks, so I'll be back in the Gingerbread Village soon."

Eric nodded, pride surging within him at seeing Tommy so confident in his career. In his twenties now, and married, Tommy seemed so very different from the young boy Eric had met in the Drosselmeyers' parlor. Now he was a medic in the Parthenian army, and apparently a rather valued one, to be sent to Mapletown.

"Well," said Eric. "I'm glad to hear that your skills are so highly appraised."

Tommy smiled at that. "So what are you doing here?" he asked. He glanced at the two horses, the reins of which Eric still held. "Are Clara and Marie with you?"

"No. I'm here with Rodolph."

"What for?"

Eric glanced about them, apprehensive of discussing such matters in the open. "Why don't I put away the horses, and we'll get some food inside? I'll explain then."

/

Tommy sat back in his chair, frowning. "That's quite the problem you have."

Eric gave a humorless laugh. "Isn't it though?"

They were sitting at a table in a more isolated part of the inn's tavern. While they had eaten supper, Eric retold the events of the past month in relation to the meraci witch. Tommy looked vaguely disturbed by the story, but there was an intrigued thoughtfulness in his eyes as he listened.

"And you forced Clara to go back to the castle?" Tommy asked.

Eric grimaced. "Forced is a rather strong term," he said. "I…fervently suggested it."

Tommy snorted. "I wonder if Clara sees it that way. I'm surprised she consented at all."

"Yes well…" Eric tapped the side of his mug, looking uncomfortable. "That aside, there's still the problem of not knowing exactly what it will take to bring Amaranth down."

"Can't you just blast her with the scepter?"

"I was hoping you would suggest something with a bit more tact," said Eric, amused. "But no. I can't just…blast her. For all I know, she could somehow intercept the spell and…consume it, making her more powerful. I may try a smaller spell, like a binding spell. But I don't want to risk a destruction spell against her."

"Hm." Tommy took a sip from his mug. "Well, can you try draining her magic?"

"I thought about that," said Eric. "But the problem is with the scepter. It produces its own, pure source of magic. That's what makes it so powerful. I can't corrupt it by soaking up a maceri witch's stolen magic; such an act would irreparably damage it. And if Amaranth has as much infected magic within her as I'm guessing, it would overload the scepter and likely make it explode, killing me in the process."

Tommy cringed. "Alright, you probably shouldn't do that then."

Eric nodded grimly. He rotated his drink in his hand, watching the amber liquid swirl against the mug's sides. Then his face brightened, and he looked up at Tommy.

"What?" asked Tommy.

"I can't store Amaranth's magic in the scepter," said Eric. "But maybe I can use the scepter as a sort of…conduit for the magic."

"A conduit?"

"Yes," said Eric, sounding relieved at finding a possible solution. "Look, the stolen magic would destroy the scepter, but only if it stays there. If the magic briefly passes through the scepter, using it as a bridge between Amaranth and a new source, then it should be alright."

"Should," repeated Tommy doubtfully.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Tommy shrugged. "So where are you going to transfer the magic?"

"I'm not going to transfer it to a person, that's for sure," said Eric. "That much perverted magic would certainly kill someone…or worse." He glanced at the maple tree that was growing through the center of the tavern's floor. "Maybe I could return it to the earth."

"The earth?"

"A lot of magic comes from the earth," said Eric. "Not the scepter's, and not Clara's, but others. Regular witches, for example. They get it from the trees, from the crystals in caves, or from streams. The magic that is embedded in Parthenia herself." He rubbed his chin as he thought. "I don't want to put it directly into the earth. I'm afraid of what may happen if someone accidentally harvests the corrupted magic." His gaze flickered back to the maple tree. "Maybe I can find a large enough tree to use. The magic will probably kill the tree, but better a tree than a person."

"Hm," muttered Tommy. Then he gave a nod. "Alright, I suppose we can work with that."

"We?"

Tommy set his mug down. "You don't expect me to sit this out, do you? Besides, you have, what…three men with you?"

"…four."

Tommy snorted. "Exactly."

A smile began to slip onto Eric's face. But then he sobered, and shook his head. "I can't let you come, not with Pepper waiting for you back home. It's too dangerous."

"Right, because Clara and Marie aren't waiting for you at the castle. Besides, you are the king. Isn't it my duty as a loyal subject to, you know, protect you or something?"

Eric chuckled. "Something like that."

"Well, then, there you go." Tommy plucked a biscuit from the basket between them and tore off a piece, popping it into his mouth.

Eric gave Tommy a look that was a mixture of amusement and the utmost gratitude. He tapped his mug against the table, then set it aside. "Alright. I won't stop you from coming." He stood. "Be sure to get some sleep, though. We're leaving early in the morning."

Tommy gave Eric a mock salute. "See you then."

Eric smiled and tossed the money for their meal onto the table. "Goodnight, Tommy."

/

"You look concerned, Eric."

Eric lifted his head. He was sitting on an overturned pail outside of the stall his horse was in. He had woken extremely early and, after failed attempts of trying to get a few more hours of rest, finally went down to the inn's stables. In his hands was a leather strap he had found draped over the door of the stall next to his horse's. He twisted it around his wrist absentmindedly as he looked up at Rodolph, who had come to a stop in front of him.

Eric emitted a bitter laugh. "Should I not be? Clara was right; this plan is nothing more than a foolhardy concoction of fear and arrogance." He dug the heel of his boot into the hay-covered ground. "Perhaps we should have returned to the castle."

Rodolph gave Eric a sympathetic look. "Making these kinds of decisions is never easy. Your father was not exempt from his own uncertainty and doubt when facing similar choices."

"Yes, well, Father always did seem to have a more level-headed view of matters than me."

"Amaranth has given you little choice," said Rodolph. "You are right to want to stop her before another innocent is killed."

"And if she kills one of you instead?" Eric shook his head. "I think I should go alone."

Rodolph looked at Eric in alarm. "What?"

Eric sighed. "I have the scepter. Surely it is powerful enough to subdue Amaranth. If I go alone, I can focus solely on her, and not on having to protect you and your men. Plus, then I won't worry about hitting any of you with a spell by accident."

"I have a stronger faith in your aim than that," Rodolph said, a subtle humor lining his tone. Then a firm determination overtook his expression. "As admirable as your intentions are, I must respectfully refuse to obey such a command. It is my duty to keep you from harm; I certainly will not abandon you now because of a threat to my own safety."

Eric made a sound of annoyance. "You're too noble for your own good, Rodolph."

"Perhaps," smiled Rodolph.

Eric tightened the strap over his hand. "I don't want your men coming. I thought that at first it would be wise to have more of us confronting Amaranth. But now that I've thought it over, I wonder if it should be the opposite. With less of us, there is a smaller chance of us getting separated and bewitched by Amaranth. Or whatever it is that she does."

Rodolph nodded thoughtfully. "And Thomas?" He did not address Tommy as Eric did, as it was mostly only close friends and family that still called Tommy by his childhood name.

Eric grimaced. "I would rather him stay behind as well."

"I wish you luck in trying to convince him to do so."

Eric leaned back against the stall's door with a sigh. "Why must every Drosselmeyer be so irritatingly stubborn?"

A smirk touched Rodolph's lips. "I have heard the queen ask the same of you many times." He pretended to not notice the exasperated look Eric flashed at him. Instead, Rodolph made his way to his own horse's stall. "Let us get the horses ready. If we leave soon, we should reach Raven's Pass with plenty of light left in the day."

/

Tommy had – unsurprisingly – refused to be left behind. Rodolph's men had been reluctant to remain in Mapletown, but Eric had insisted on them staying. And so Eric, Rodolph, and Tommy set out for Raven's Pass, each trying to mask their own apprehension as Mapletown disappeared into the hills behind them.

It was many hours before they reached their destination. Once they had entered Raven's Pass, no map was needed to confirm that it was Amaranth's refuge. The moment they rode into the ravine, the vegetation of the land changed. The trees and grass turned sickly and wet, as though they were molding beneath the dull light of the overcast sun. Tree branches twisted and stretched outwards like skeletal arms, and a dark slimy substance dripped from their bark. Eric did not recognize it, and he warned his companions to not touch it, afraid of what it may do to human skin. It was oddly cold in the ravine, and the air reeked of the stench of decay.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Eric asked Rodolph, staring at their surroundings in shock.

Rodolph shook his head. "I have not," he said cautiously. "This land is infected by a great evil."

"But where is Amaranth?" said Tommy.

Eric glanced down at the scepter. He had tried using a locating spell to pinpoint Amaranth's exact location, but he was not surprised by the scepter's failure to produce a path. He needed to have a mental image of the person in his mind while casting the spell, and as he had no idea what Amaranth looked like, there had been nothing for the scepter to link to.

As they wandered further into Raven's Pass, a strange, almost nauseating sensation began to pool in Eric's stomach. He soon realized that the feeling was the effect of being close to the distorted magic. Holding the scepter allowed him to sense the dark magic more acutely than Tommy or Rodolph could, and he led them in the direction of what he hoped was the magic's source.

"There," he said, pointing. Embedded in the wall of the ravine was a slim cave entrance, partially hidden by the roots of trees growing out of the cliff side. The sickening feeling in Eric deepened the longer he stared at the entrance, confirming his guess that that was where they needed to go.

The three of them dismounted their horses. Eric adjusted his grip on the scepter and looked at Tommy and Rodolph. "Stay close."

Tommy pulled out his revolver. After reassuring himself that it was loaded, he slipped it back into the holster hanging at his hip. Rodolph did the same, and Eric felt his own hand twitch towards the revolver at his side.

Not long after Vogt's attack in Germany, Eric and Clara began working on integrating the weapons of Clara's world into Parthenia's army. Rifles were used most often by the soldiers, though revolvers became standard among them as well. Eric could not the deny usefulness of the firearms, and Clara felt it was wise to have a balanced mixture of weapons from her world and Parthenia in the kingdom's military.

The firearms in Parthenia looked slightly different from how they appeared in Clara's world. They were more intricately carved, with beautiful designs of folktale creatures or scenes from great myths painted alongside the barrels and handles. They were lighter too, and could be used with a variety of enchanted bullets.

The bullets in their revolvers now were made of pure iron. As iron was known to be a deterrent to many creatures that used dark magic, Eric could only hope that they would affect Amaranth. He brushed his fingers over his revolver's holster, reassuring himself. With Tommy and Rodolph close behind, Eric pushed aside the tree roots and stepped into the damp darkness of the cave.

There was a grayish green luminescence that emanated from the cave's walls, leading them down a narrow pathway. Their footsteps echoed against the uneven stone ground, but there was little they could do to stifle the sound.

They walked for what seemed like hours. The pathway wound haphazardly, weaving back and forth like a madman's dance. Then it suddenly jerked to the left, opening up into a large room.

A large tree stood in the center of the room. It was not decayed like the trees outside; instead, silver leaves with pointed edges hung from its branches, reflecting the sickly glow of the walls. Roots spiraled downwards from the cave's ceiling, some almost touching the floor. More roots clung to the walls, twisting and winding over each other in a suffocating manner.

The distinct touch of corrupted magic blanketed the place. It felt wrong to Eric, and yet, he could not help but admire the eerie beauty encompassing the tree.

"What kind of mortals follow the decay of the dead to my home?"

Eric tightened his grip on the scepter at the sudden voice. Tommy snapped his head up, searching for the source of it, but they could see no one.

"I sense no great magic in any of you. Why have you come?"

The voice belonged to an old woman. It was cracked with age, as though the dust of corpses had lodged itself in its speaker's throat. Yet there was an underlying strength to its bitter tone, one that vibrated with violent warning.

Eric lifted his gaze, trying to keep as much of the room in view as possible. "We're here to speak with you, Amaranth. About the Parthenians you have murdered."

"You know my name. How very...interesting." There was a low chuckle. "You come to avenge the deaths of your kinsmen? Is that it? You should be honored by their sacrifices. It is through them that my great power lives on."

"No power can be great if its source is the blood of others," said Eric.

"I am not surprised to hear such ignorance from a human."

"Will you not come out?" demanded Eric. "Or are we to speak to a coward's shadow?"

The voice let out another laugh. "Of the few things humans are entitled to, arrogance is not one of them. You would do well to cast it aside."

The final word had barely been spoken before a figure stepped out from behind the tree. She was hunched, her crooked back making one arm hang lower than the other. Her hands, twisted and gnarled, were covered in age spots and wrinkles, as was the skin on her neck and face. Thin white hair hung about her face in tangled braids and loose strands.

She walked forward with slow, uncertain steps. It seemed a great effort for her to move, as though the years of centuries past weighed her down. Yet, harmless as she seemed in such a state, Eric did not lower the scepter.

Amaranth stopped a few feet from Eric. She appraised him silently. "I can smell the blood of the royals in you. You are Parthenia's king."

"Yes."

Amaranth did not look impressed. "You are very young, to be given such power."

Eric shrugged. "I suppose I am, compared to you."

Amaranth made a sound of disgust. "Humans are such fools. Giving their kingdom to one barely out of boyhood. No wonder your kind falls into war and destitution so easily."

Eric raised an eyebrow at the notion of being perceived as 'barely out of boyhood.' He shook his head. "Judging an entire race through the transgressions of only a few is a poor habit."

Amaranth chuckled, the sound rattling in her withered chest. "I do not make shallow assumptions. I have seen it happen. Over and over again. Is that why you are here now, boy-king? To make war with me?"

"I am here to stop a threat to my people," said Eric. "To protect them."

"Ah. So it is delusions of heroism that cloud your mind."

"If that's what you want to call it," said Eric. He shifted his grip on the scepter.

Amaranth's gaze fell to the scepter. Intrigue flickered through her eyes, followed by surprise – and an undeniable flash of fear. "Where did you get that?" she hissed.

Eric studied Amaranth curiously. He lifted the scepter, aiming it at her. "You recognize it?" he asked.

"I have seen it used before, centuries ago," said Amaranth. "You are hardly worthy of it." She held out her hand. "Give it here, and I shall make your death as painless as possible."

Eric snorted. "That's not much of an incentive."

Amaranth narrowed her eyes. "It is not wise to refuse me."

Eric said nothing, watching her with a cold expression.

Amaranth sneered at him. "Very well, then." She threw up her hand suddenly, making a waving motion at the ceiling above.

Immediately, Tommy and Rodolph drew their revolvers and fired at the witch. Amaranth's weak shuffling was cast aside, and she dodged the bullets with surprising speed. At the same moment, the roots from the ceiling came to life. They uncurled and lurched downward, snapping at the men like whips.

Eric jumped back, barely avoiding one of the larger roots. He muttered an incantation quickly, keeping his gaze locked on Amaranth.

"Freeze her limbs and seize her bones,

Halt her in her tracks, make her as still as the stones."

He thrust the scepter forward. Amaranth arched her hand upwards, creating a magical shield. The air shimmered in front of her, absorbing Eric's spell before dissipating a moment later.

Eric spat out a curse as he lurched to the side, dodging another root. He swung his scepter towards Amaranth again, but she easily deflected the spell.

A cry of alarm made Eric spin around. A root was wrapped around Tommy's waist, wrenching him into the air. In Tommy's surprise, his revolver fell from his grip, clattering to the cave floor.

Tearing his attention away from Amaranth, Rodolph swung his revolver around to shoot at the root holding Tommy. With him distracted, a new root burst through the floor and encircled Rodolph's torso, securing him.

The root holding Tommy dragged him to Amaranth's side. Tommy struggled viciously against it, but it slid further up his body, pinning his arms to hold him in place.

"Stop!" shouted Eric. He pointed the scepter at Amaranth. "Let them go, Amaranth."

Amaranth smiled, showcasing rows of rotten teeth. "What will you give me for them? How much are they worth?" She eyed the scepter, unable to quell the ravenous hunger in her eyes.

"Don't be stupid, Eric!" cried Tommy. "You cannot give her something that powerful."

"Hush, you!" warned Amaranth. "Or I shall keep your tongue as a trophy."

Disgust in his eyes, Tommy spat at the witch.

Amaranth snarled in rage, raising her hand to slap Tommy across the face. Her nails, long and jagged, scraped bloody lines over his skin.

"Stop!" Eric took a step forward. "Let him go. Let them both go, and I'll give you the scepter."

"Eric –" began Rodolph.

"Be quiet, Rodolph," snapped Eric, not daring to turn and look at the man. He keep his gaze locked with Amaranth's. He was such a fool to bring them here. He should have known better. Whatever happened to him now seemed of little consequence; he refused to let his companions suffer for his mistake.

Amaranth smirked. "Let them both go? That is quite the demand."

"The scepter is quite the prize," countered Eric.

"That is true." She studied Eric closely. "Relieve yourself of that strange weapon at your side, and bring the scepter here."

Eric hesitated.

"Now," ordered Amaranth. "Before I gouge out the boy's eyes."

Tightening his jaw, Eric pulled his revolver from its holster. He let it fall to the floor. Slowly, he walked to Amaranth. He glanced at Tommy briefly, only enough to see the frantic protestation in Tommy's eyes. Ignoring Tommy's gaze, Eric held the scepter out. "Take it," he spat.

Amaranth smiled. Then, the movement shockingly fast, she reached out and grabbed Eric's wrist, yanking him close. At the same moment, roots snapped up from the floor to encircle Eric's arms, holding him in place. The root around his right arm constricted painfully, forcing Eric to drop the scepter. It clattered to the floor at his feet.

Eric twisted violently, but his efforts did little against the plants' magic-induced strength. Fuming with anger – at both himself and Amaranth – Eric glared at her. "Well? You have the scepter. Release them."

Amaranth chuckled. "You know very little about bargaining with maceri witches. Perhaps it would have been wise to remedy such ignorance before coming here."

"You said you would let them go!" Eric said furiously. "Have the centuries diluted your honor along with your conscience?"

"I agreed to nothing of the sort," said Amaranth. "I merely concurred in the value of the scepter. You are the one who failed to strike a proper deal."

"They have no magic," insisted Eric. "They are of no value to you."

"Perhaps." A strange look passed over Amaranth's face. She frowned, tilting her head as she scrutinized Eric. Suspicion in her eyes, she stepped closer to him. "How very interesting," she murmured. "You do not possess magic of your own. But...I can still sense its presence in you." She thrust her hand out and grabbed Eric's chin. Eric immediately tried to wrench himself free, but her grip was oddly strong.

Amaranth turned Eric's head to the side, examining him with interest. Leaning forward so that her mouth was only a hair's breadth away from his neck, she inhaled deeply. Eric grimaced, revolted by her closeness. "You have been touched by dark magic," murmured Amaranth. A hungry smile curved her lips. "A curse, conjured by a hatred that is rather...intoxicating."

Eric froze, horror rising in him as he realized what she was referring to.

"There is not much left," said Amaranth in disappointment. "But there should be enough for me to at least get a taste..."

Eric yanked against the roots futility. "Don't –"

Amaranth turned Eric's head so that they were facing each other. She opened her mouth, and sucked in a long breath. Eric clamped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth at the effort of it. But slowly, whatever spell Amaranth was using pried Eric's lips apart. A stream of magic began to flow out of his mouth. It was a muddy rust color, like the shade of an apple's peel that had long rotten. As Amaranth inhaled the dark magic, a sickly expression overtook Eric's face. His skin began to pale, edged by a grayish tinge. He sagged against the roots, his body going limp with weariness.

"Stop!' exclaimed Tommy, panic in his voice. "Stop, you'll kill him!"

Amaranth ignored him. The eager hunger in her eyes intensified, and she tightened her grip on Eric, as though doing so could draw out the curse's magic faster. Eric's head rocked back dazedly in a final effort of resistance, but then his eyes drooped shut, unable to stay open in wake of the energy the extraction was taking.

Tommy struggled against the roots binding him. "Stop!"

"Take mine!" cried Rodolph. "Take mine instead!"

Amaranth paused. The link between her and Eric dissipated in the distraction, and Eric groaned, his head falling forward. But Amaranth paid him no mind. She glanced at Rodolph curiously. "You have magic?" She narrowed her eyes. "I do not sense it in you."

"I was cursed as the king was," said Rodolph, the words spilling out of him desperately. "By the same magic user, for the same amount of time. Please – take mine instead."

Amaranth smiled coldly. "I shall take your magic regardless. Why should I spare the king?"

"Because we have reinforcements coming." Rodolph said, hoping Amaranth could not sense the lie in his words. "They'll be here, soon. And if the king is dead, they'll attack without mercy." He glanced nervously at Eric, who had not re-opened his eyes. "But keep him alive, and you have a bargaining chip."

"Do you believe me to be so weak as to be incapable of handling your pitiful mortal armies?" She sounded both amused and offended at the notion. "I need no king to bargain with."

Rodolph gave her a doubtful look. "They will be bringing magic users. Powerful ones, enough to be a true threat."

Surprise flickered in Amaranth's eyes. Then she scoffed. "If that is true, why not bring them initially?"

"We didn't know what we were up against," said Rodolph. "They are insurance. In case the king did not return."

Amaranth looked back at Eric, pondering this new information. Then she shrugged. "I suppose I can wait to finish him off. Why hasten these things?" She withdrew her hand from Eric and waved at the roots securing him. They released their hold, and Eric collapsed in a heap at Amaranth's feet. She shook her head, heaving a withered chuckle. "Humans are so terribly fragile."

"And the boy?" Rodolph demanded, nodding at Tommy. "He has no magic; he is of no use to you. If there is any mercy in you, please, let him go."

Amaranth glanced at Tommy. But Tommy did not match her gaze; he was staring at Eric's unmoving form, his eyes full of terror for his brother-in-law. Amaranth smirked and turned back to Rodolph. "Your concern for him is misplaced." She shambled towards Rodolph in the same halting manner she had first entered the room with. "It is your own life that you should be pleading for." She stretched out a gnarled hand towards Rodolph's throat. "Though no amount of pitiful begging will spare you..."