The Final Preparations

Nothing infuriated Ravenna like a plan gone awry. She positively fumed with anger, her shoes leaving scorch marks on the earth in the shape of footprints. The dull, dishwater gray film the kingdom usually wore burned up as Ravenna's presence coated it in alcohol and light it aflame. Even the overcast skies seemed tinged orange in her rage.

She had the coachman whip the horses into a gallop for miles before allowing them to slow, and then only to a trot. When the carriage finally arrived, horses foaming with sweat, she burst through the doors with more strength than her petite body seemed capable of and stormed straight to her mirror room, shouldering any unfortunate servants that happen to stand in her path. Each sharp clack of her heeled shoes sounded like a knife whacking a wooden board. Her pale skin looked less like fresh cream and more like the wood of a matchstick, ready to burn at the slightest twitch of a hand.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall," she chanted, shoving the door to the golden room open. She glared at the bronze dish, not through her eyelashes like she did with bachelor Kings, but through her eyebrows, watching as her chant made the metal liquefy. With her head ducked so low and her shoulders tensed to her ears, she looked like a bull seeing red.

"How do I make a Kingdom fall?"

The bronze slithered like a metallic snake towards her, forming a shimmering, swirling moat around her feet. The liquid then began turning and growing, forming the outline of a man covered by a metal blanket.

"Catch the crow and kill the girl, and the Kingdom shall be yours," a rich bass answered, reverberating off the stone, sounding like the voice of God himself.

"But how,"

"Do not overlook what you already know; crows travel in groups, and the one with the best knowledge of the woods is often the huntsman."

Ravenna did not reply. She continued gazing blankly at the shimmering silhouette as she digested his words. The figure began melting again and she didn't stop it; she doubted its riddlesome conscious would have much else to say anyway.

Crow's travel in groups… Did the mirror mean for her find a flock of crows rather than just the one? Shape shifters couldn't transform into multiple entities, could they? Too, she doubted he would associate with regular fowl, being mentally superior. Perhaps the Mirror was merely alluding to crow's flock mindset, that if she could bring the flock to her, she could probably get the shape shifter to join. Is that what the Mirror suggested? Bring the entire flock in and search them one-by-one? It surely sounded tedious, but it was better than having no crows at all.

The second part of the riddle was easier; the Mirror believes the huntsman should go after Snow White. But the huntsman was no longer; Eric was lost when Stefan entered his body. That's what she suspected at least. But perhaps he left some things behind.

I imagine it's impossible to enter into another's body and expect nothing from the previous inhabitant to linger, she mused. It happens with houses too, and books. The previous owner would forget an old chair in the cellar, or some notes scrawled in the margins of a book. It only made sense that some memories would linger, she thought.

By the time she made up her mind, the bronze puddle had formed itself into a smooth reflective dish once more. Her lips curled into a grin, one of a woman with a devious plan; she turned tail with a flourish, exiting the golden room with less broiling rage and more electric energy than she entered.

Down, down, down the stone staircase. Ravenna snatched a candle from a servant to help her see in the cellar's clammy darkness. The usual torches leading to her potions room lay cold in her absence. No matter, she touched her candle to their tops as she walked by, leaving a trail of fire in her wake as if to say, "I'm home".

At the bottom of the stairs she unlocked her potions room using the iron key she kept tucked between her breasts. Inside she made a beeline to the shelf, rummaging through dusty grimoires until she found the right one, with the scaly green cover. Opening it, she quickly found the spell for summoning crows. She'd used it and a few others involving crows before. It was oddly specific, yes, but only certain animals were important to witches; cats (especially of the black variety), toads, owls, salamandars, bats etc. Furthermore, some witches had an affinity for a certain animal. Ravenna just so happened to have an affinity for crows, though apparently, not the shape-shifting kind.

She snatched a bag of salt and dropped it on the table. Spinning around, she grabbed a fistful of cold coals from the fire and dropped them into a heavy, granite mortar. She skimmed the ingredients again; crushed sage, rose quartz, sugar, sheep's blood, the list went on. It might take her all night, but come morning she would be ready.

She finely ground the coal, quartz, sugar, and salt in her mortar into a fine powder. She scooped it into a large jar and sealed it, leaving it on her table for later. There were a few ingredients she did not have in stock.

Muffled noise leaked from the kitchen door. But once Ravenna entered, the commotion instantly reduced to a murmur. Loud thumping chops turned into whispery slicing, pots and pans were gently placed on the table rather than thrown. Kitchen maids quickly turned away from her, busying themselves out of her sight or pulling strands of hair to cover their faces. They knew all too well what happened to young beauties in Ravenna's kingdom. After they passed from her view, they would glace her way in fear and awe. Many had never seen her in person.

So the rumors were true, they thought, she is still young and beautiful, after all these years. Ravenna ignored them; she was used to stares.

"I want lamb for dinner," she said softly to the cook. There was no need for her to raise her voice. He knew it was not a suggestion.

"We have some imported lamb sausages in the store room," he offered politely, trying to hide the quiver in his voice.

"No, fresh. And save the blood in the cellar. I want black pudding tomorrow."

"As you wish, my Queen."

Ravenna turned to leave, snatching a few dried sage leaves before doing so. She could feel their eyes burning holes in her back. She smiled. She fed on envy and fear. A few steps from the door, she found Stefan fixing to come in and find a snack.

"Ravenna," he said, surprised. She was just the person he wanted to see. And the one he didn't. He needed to speak with her about the letters he'd found, but he still didn't know how to approach it. He couldn't exactly say he'd been snooping around her private study. He looked at the bundle of finger-like leaves in her hands, trying to stall. "What have you got there?"

"Ah, sage," she answered, not thinking of a good enough lie on the spot.

"What for?" her first thought was to respond with "smudging", but she felt like that was about as good of an idea as a wineless wedding.

"Tea" she said, finally thinking of something, "for a headache."

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked. Discussions were best had over a cup of tea. It relaxed the nerves, and sipping from a cup allowed for a natural break in conversation.

"I actually have some work I really must get back to," she began, thinking of the blackberry juice she needed to begin boiling down into syrup, and then of the birdcage she needed to find for when she finally caught the little shifter. She'd had it a minute ago, where could her servants have stowed it?

"Doesn't that defeat the point of drinking tea for your headache?" he asked with a smile, "Come with me, we'll have tea properly."

He put his hand on her upper back, guiding her to the dining room. Ravenna made to resist, but eventually consented. As it was, she needed to speak with him too.

The two settled into opposing chairs and beckoned for a passing maid to serve them. Stefan recognized her as the dimpled girl whom he breakfasted with during Ravenna's absence. She smiled lightly as she saw him. Ravenna noticed this smiled and furrowed her brows slightly.

Once the tea arrived, along with a dish of assorted biscuits, their conversation resumed. Stefan was oblivious to the fact that Ravenna had slipped the sage into her pocket and not her teacup.

"How was your trip? Did you find any new help to work for you?" he asked politely, taking a sip from his cup. Ravenna scrunched her eyebrows as she gently stirred honey into her own cup. What was he talking about?

She paused before remembering, "Oh no, there was no one that met my standards."

"Oh, that's unfortunate," he answered, wondering what standards she had. He took another sip, piecing together the words to ask her about the other man when she cleared her own throat.

"Stefan, I know that you are working towards recovering your kingdom and I have told you to focus entirely on this, but I am afraid that I have fallen onto a certain hardship and must ask for your assistance."

Stefan's eyebrows scrunched together and he returned his cup to its saucer. Ravenna too placed the dainty silver teaspoon on her saucer. Two nights ago when she raged at Finn for losing the King's daughter she told him to find someone who knew the dark forest. Little did she expect to discover that Eric, the man whose body Stefan's soul now resided in, was the answer. She'd told Finn as much, that she'd found the man who would bring back the Princess. He'd scoffed at her then, remarking that there must be somebody else, for Eric was no longer with them; his mind and soul were long gone. Did she really want to call back another soul from The Beyond? Displacing souls was no simple feat, and it came at a high price, he reminded her, not to mention the havoc it would wreak on her own magical reserves. She was already sucking girls dry left and right to make up for her rapidly diminishing power; another large spell would really set her back.

"Of course, anything I can do to repay you for all of your kindness." Stefan replied.

Ravenna looked up at him. He looked so different now than when she first saw his drunken mug standing at her door reporting for grave-robbing duty. She'd sneered then, wondering what pig pen Finn pulled him out of. Not many people volunteer for this type of work though, so she let it pass. He'd probably spent everything he'd had in the pub last night, and was looking for the next night's allowance.

Regardless, something about him stuck out to her, and when the team returned with Stefan's body the next day, she called him, out of all the other men, to stay. Maybe it was his rugged good looks, or his stately build that made her think he looked fit to be a King. Maybe it was his piercing blue eyes that reminded her of Stefan's shining green ones. Maybe she was just intuitive. Regardless, she chose him and, alas, he was now needed. She'd thought they would just have to storm the dark forest with fire and manpower, but now that her mirror recognized the huntsman as the solution to her problems as well, they may be able to fix Finn's error far more easily.

"A prisoner escaped a few days ago," she began, pulling lies out of her pockets like Sunday candy. "She is deranged, having murdered her own father, the former king and my husband, some years ago. Yes, she is a princess but only by blood. I kept her locked in the tower ever since she went mad, not wanting to put to death one of royal blood, but fearing for my own life should she be allowed to roam free. This worked well until recently when my brother let her escape while he was… distracted. She fled through the pipes and escaped into the dark forest where she hides now. Finn has tried for days now to enter the forest and continue his search but each time he was proven unable to breach its borders more than a few feet.

"Stefan, I know that you have not entered the dark forest before, but the previous inhabitant of this body, the Huntsman, was one of the very few known to have regularly entered and withstood its horrors. What I am asking is, can you tap into the pieces left behind by the Huntsman, enough to navigate the Dark Forest and bring the Princess back safely?" Stefan paused, waiting for the voice of the Huntsman to give him advice, to tell him what to do.

"I will send Finn with you of course, and support soldiers," she continued. Stefan lifted his head, making the mistake of gazing into her crystal blue eyes. "By the time you return, we will be ready to make our move on your kingdom."

The Princess, a young girl, really scares her that much? Asked the voice, its deep baritone strong and clear between his ears. It sounded skeptical, suspicious even of the Queen's plans. There must be something else.

"What do you want with the Princess, Ravenna?" asked Stefan aloud

Ravenna was taken aback by his question. What right did he have to question her, in her own castle no less? After everything she'd done for him, after everything she put on the line, the people she killed just so he could take his kingdom back from the fairy that stole it from him, he dared question her? Truthfully, she was only helping him get his kingdom so that she could easily snatch it under his nose, but that was neither here nor there. All she asked was for him to retrieve one skinny, weak little girl running scared through the woods. If she weren't so busy running a country, she would do it herself. Something told her that eventually she would have to, but she figured she might as well try her other options first and hope someone got lucky.

She blinked a few times, trying to wash the angered annoyance out of her eyes.

"She is of royal blood Stefan, the last of my husband, God rest his soul's, line! She must be returned home, even if she is a murderous snake."

She's lying, hissed the voice, angry. Stefan didn't think he should repeat that.

"Of course I will help you find the girl," answered Stefan, reaching across the table to take her hand. "We shall set off tomorrow morning."

"Thank you," answered Ravenna, bringing her other hand around to enclose his. She squeezed once and then released him. She didn't like to linger. "Now, if you excuse me, I really must get back to work."

She pushed out her chair and exited swiftly, her tea, sat on the table in her absence, the handle cold. Stefan gazed at it for a moment, watching the steam curl above it, before taking another sip from his own cup.

Tell me, he thought, meaning to ask the voice in his head, how do we plan on finding this girl in the woods?

He'd never had conversations on purpose with the voice before, but thought he might try now that he'd agreed on a suicide mission into the dark forest. Places didn't get names like that for no reason.

We? Questioned the voice. Stefan swallowed. Hearing a voice in your head is one thing. Talking back to it is another, but it responding? It was a whole new level of crazy he had never reached before. He narrowed his eyebrows.

I am going to need your help with this. Regardless of what Ravenna plans, the Princess will die if we do not save her, no? the voice did not respond. He was grumpy. So, how will we find her?

We will hunt her down like we would any animal, the voice answered. If she is mad as Ravenna suggests, she be easy to find.

Stefan swallowed again, the voice darker and stronger than his tea. He knew they called this man, the one whose body he inhabited "The Huntsman", but the title was starting to take on a different meaning now. He quickly tried to bury his thoughts, turning again to stir his tea, but the Huntsman was always there, he heard everything.

I-it's been a while since I've been hunting, Stefan answered, feeling as if he should respond somehow.

I guess you'll just have to let me take over then.

Late into the night, Ravenna crept down to the kitchen. She really didn't need to creep; she had no need to be secretive here, all the castle workers and all the towns' people knew she was a witch. She supposed it was just in her nature to be sneaky. Besides, she didn't need to stumble on Stefan sleepwalking or coming in for a late night snack. Though he too knew she was a witch, he didn't need the dirty details of her craft. She'd learned through the years that potential suitors don't take kindly to her dancing naked in the woods and smearing blood pentagrams on the floor.

Bathed in the clean, silvery darkness of a nearly full moon and minimal candlelight, Ravenna found the heavy oak door. She swung it open to reveal the dim room, fairly clean and free of people, exactly how she liked it. She walked into the back and opened the pantry. Sitting on the floor next to a box of dirty vegetables, sat a stained wooden bucket filled with a dark liquid. She squatted next to it, dipping a finger in to test its viscosity. Pulling the finger out, the liquid stuck to her pale skin thinly; she held a candle to it and found it was still a bright red, indicating its freshness. She smiled and stuck the finger in her mouth. It was sweet too, underneath its standard metallic taste.

Setting her candle on the flood, she moved to produce the jar from earlier. She twisted the cap to open it and then pulled a small silver cup from her pocket. She dipped the cup into the liquid and poured it into the jar until it was full. Capping the jar tightly, she shook it to combine the powdered ingredients at the bottom. She held the jar down to the candle light, watching as the red liquid became even darker as it swirled with the flecks of charcoal and shimmered as the powdered quartz spun by like fairy dust.

Picking up her candle, the only evidence of her visit, she silently brought the jar up to the room with her great bronze mirror. It was still brightly lit from the moon shining strongly through the many windows, hitting the white marble of her private bath and illuminating the room. It was perfect.

She found a wide basin lying about nearby; originally it was used for holding water for her to rinse with after a milk bath, but now it lay empty in a corner. Milk baths did nothing for her anymore, not since she was told that Snow White held the key to her eternal youth. She brought the basin to the ledge of the bath angling it in a way that the most moonlight would hit it. She then uncapped the jar again and poured its contents into the basin. She watched as the contents oozed out thick but smooth, the flecks of stone occasionally catching the moonlight and sparkling like stars. Once the jar was empty, she shook the basin, allowing the contents to settle and cover the entire surface. The more moonlight it received the stronger the spell would be, and tonight was a cloudless night.

Tomorrow it would be ready. Tomorrow as Stefan rode out to the dark forest to find Snow White and bring back her heart, Ravenna would be drawing symbols in moon-soaked lambs blood, casting a protective salt circle, and chanting in an old language to call forth a legion of crows from miles away. She hoped the shape shifter had a pleasant night, because tomorrow he would be in the talons of the dark Queen Ravenna.