CHAPTER NINE:

THE ENCHANTRESS RETURNS

The desert was always so bloody cold at night.

D'Argencourt preferred it. It eased the rising tension boiling within him. Sort of.

Curse that Rena Rouge! Curse that pampered prince and his charming fake princess! Curse them all!

Everything was going so well. He had an army at his disposal, a horde of treasure to satisfy him for decades, and a lair where he could spend all his quiet nights plotting and scheming his way to the Agrestian throne.

All of that had been undone because one measly, little street rat couldn't keep her nose out of other people's businesses.

Now here the Master of Thievery was, stranded in the middle of the desert and fetching water from a lonely stone well... all while reeking of wine and fish.

"That stinking Rena Rouge!" D'Argencourt grumbled with pure loathing. "First chance I get, I'll slice her in half!" He patted the pommel of his rapier, now back to normal, and continued to watch as one of his thieving shenanigans struggled to heave water out of the well. "Hurry up, you ingrate! It's bad enough I have to look at you without having to smell you!"

The thief growled but did as he was told, pulling the rope up and over numerous times.

Unbeknownst to the Master of Thievery, his three other men were shooting daggers into their leader's back.

Everything had been taken from them... and D'Argencourt still had the nerve to order them about like he was the King of Agreste? It was his fault their fortune had been stolen; his fault their so-called army had deserted them!

"That stinking D'Argencourt," the burly thief whispered from atop his horse. "First chance we get, let's slice him in half."

The scrawny one nodded and lifted his sword, which gleamed in the moonlight. "Come. We do it quietly," he whispered with a murderous glance at D'Argencourt. "No witnesses."

Finally, their fellow thief heaved a heavy, wooden bucket out of the dark well and plopped it dripping wet onto the ledge. Exhausted, he was about to take a healthy drink when he was shoved aside roughly.

"Out of my way!" D'Argencourt spat as he lifted the bucket with both hands and started pouring its contents over his head. The cold water invigorated him nicely.

Until...

BONK!

"Ow!" The swordsman hissed as something inside the bucket clopped him on the head before falling at his feet. Dropping the bucket, D'Argencourt groaned. "What is this?" he snarled as he searched the sand for whatever hit him. "So help me, I'll sue who ever runs this well!"

Moonlight gleamed along something in the sand, and the swordsman's anger quickly subsided.

It was a necklace. An amulet, to be precise.

D'Argencourt picked it up by the chain and examined it. The amulet was covered with wet dirt and slime, but some parts of citrine and gold poked out and glistened.

"Hmm..." D'Argencourt sneered and shrugged. "It's not much, but it might be worth a few shackles once it's cleaned up." He then started rubbing the amulet with his sleeve to get the filth off.

The sound of swords leaving their scabbards lifted his gaze before he could fully examine the clean necklace.

"It will be of little use for you, D'Argencourt," the scrawny thief said with a sneer, "except to pay the Devil... when you reach the valley of the dead!"

The other three thieves stood beside their apparent new leader, swords raised and teeth gnarled with anger.

D'Argencourt looked utterly stupefied for a moment. "What...? You..." Then, once he finally caught onto what was happening, his blue eyes narrowed and his face contorted with rage. "You traitors! Filthy scum!" He slipped the amulet's chain over his head and drew his rapier, straightening into a readying stance. "You think your meagre skills are a match for me? I am the finest swordsman in all of Agreste! Not even Prince Adrien, my own student, stood a chance against me!"

All four men stepped forward, and D'Argencourt sized them up.

"Well, then, supreme master swordsman," the scrawny thief jeered, "go ahead. Make your move."

The others chuckled cruelly... until their eyes lowered, and their faces paled.

D'Argencourt blinked at them, and then sneered, his mustache curling. "Ah-ha! You see? Even you quiver in the wake of my... of my..."

His words trailed off when he realized that something was glowing on his chest.

That something was his new amulet. It was glowing with intensely-bright orange light, stronger than the sun and more menacing than a fire burning across an entire city.

The strongest thief glanced between D'Argencourt and the amulet. "Wha'er you doin'?!" he said nervously.

The swordsman frowned with confusion and fear. "No, I'm not doing this!" he insisted, looking back down at the amulet.

Only then did he see its true shape: a winding curl that broadened towards the middle.

Wait a minute... Where have I...?

A burst of mist and lightning from the amulet cut off his thoughts. It twisted and whirled around the group like a cosmic storm. Then, it expanded in a broad wave that knocked everyone but D'Argencourt off their feet.

The thieves scrambled back up, their horror plain to see. Behind them, their horses whinnied with terror and reared back on their hind legs.

The scrawny thief pointed a shaking finger at the pulsing amulet. "It is bewitched!" he cried. "Run!"

He and his three companions raced back and leapt onto their startled horses. Then they kicked them into gear and sped off down the sandy hill. D'Argencourt's own stallion took off without its rider.

D'Argencourt reached out to them through the stormy mist. "Wait! You can't leave me!" he shouted, but his words were drowned out by the howling wind.

A cold, wicked, feminine laugh sounded, growing louder and louder with every turn of the cursed clouds. It made D'Argencourt's entire being turn cold as ice.

The sky turned red as blood.

Then, there was an enormous clap of thunder, followed by an explosion of orange stars.

D'Argencourt's stomach plummeted, his face blanching as the smoke lifted away.

For a long time, all she knew was darkness. Cold, impenetrable darkness.

But then, she felt it: the gentle warmth of a male human body. She heard the man's furious heartbeat; smelled the cheap wine on his clothes; felt his voice thrumming like a drum against the walls of her amulet.

Then, in the darkness, she saw it: the light of a moonlit sky.

The way out.

Her surprise turned to delight, and she soared out through the opening, leaving a storm of fury and destruction in her wake.

She could taste the fresh air; feel the breeze against her fur...

Free.

She was free!

She fell into a maniacal fit of laughter, the sound of her voice cracking through the air like the lightning she brought with her.

Then, in a burst of fire and wind, she emerged.

Diminutive as she was, she was still as dark and menacing as she had been before her confinement: black and orange fur with a long, jagged tail and sharp, pointed ears. She opened her eyes, and they blazed with the light of the sun. Not the kind of sun that warmed and soothed – the kind that burned your eyes out if you looked too long; the kind that set dry fields aflame.

Yes, she could feel it! The raw power coercing through her veins, begging to be set free.

Free, free, FREE!

Volpina the kwami took a break from her bellow of dark laughter and raised her furry paws to the bleeding sky. "I'M FREE!" she screamed with triumph. Her needle-sharp fangs gleamed as she bore them into a greedy smile. Then she declared in a low, ominous voice, "Now I shall exact my revenge upon she who has imprisoned me!"

Without so much as glancing at the dumbstruck man standing below her, Volpina took off into the sky...

... only to come to a painful, abrupt stop just a few feet away.

Growling with annoyance, Volpina tried to push and claw her way forward. But whatever was holding her back held on tight, and every attempt to break out sent a swarm of agonizing pain through the evil kwami.

Left with no choice, Volpina ceased her struggling. Panting heavily, she snapped around and saw her amulet burning rather harshly against the chest of the human who had freed her.

Now Volpina understood. "It's the curse of the Miraculous," she said to herself. It was all coming to her now: the pre-existing knowledge of the ancient djinn that had been forced to submit to the rules of their High Masters.

Volpina scowled and rubbed her paws along her large, ragged head. "All the power in the universe," she lamented, "and I am bound by the rules of the kwamis!"

Chief among these rules was the one, cardinal rule that she hated most of all: she couldn't kill anyone. Not even that wretched, devious, upstart baker's brat – Marinette!

Volpina wanted to unleash her fury upon the world for this outrage, until she finally took a good, long look at the man wearing her Miraculous.

She recognised him, mustache and all. Armand D'Argencourt, Prince Adrien's combat mentor.

Suddenly, Volpina's anger dimmed to that of a tiny star, and her mind buzzed with a new revelation. "Hmm... Perhaps I can get a certain someone to do it for me," she murmured with a seductive purr.

She hovered down to the man's eye-level, and her yellow eyes bore deeply into his inquisitive blue ones.

"Hello, Armand," Volpina said with a delicate curtsy. "It's been a while."

The swordsman blinked at her. "How... do you know my name?" he said, his voice clearly no longer bearing the fear she had previously sensed in him. "Who are you?"

Volpina frowned with disgust. Of course he didn't recognise her. She sighed. "I suppose this miniscule form is not quite befitting of someone of my calibre," she said more to herself than to D'Argencourt. "Let's remedy that, shall we?"

She waved her little arms, and then a whirl of light and smoke concealed her.

She heard D'Argencourt's startled cry as her body twisted and expanded. Her paws became hands, her tail shifted into the train of her dress, and her long ears shrank while hair sprouted from her skull. Something long and metallic appeared in her hand.

Finally, the transformation ended, and Volpina breathed in the cool night air through her human lungs.

She opened out her arms to the astounded D'Argencourt, her long, fox-headed reed flute gleaming darkly in the moonlight. "I presume this is a little more convincing for you?" she asked dryly.

D'Argencourt's sharp jaw fell as he took her in: the orange dress adorned with black; the talon-like fingernails sticking out of her black gloves; the dark-brown hair that stretched down to her knees and also ended in shorter tails along both sides of her face; the fire-like mask on her pale, human face; and finally, the eyes that changed ever-so-slowly from blazing yellow to deep, dark green.

Those glossy eyes of the swordsman's became clear. "Queen Volpina?" he breathed.

She rolled her eyes. "You are astonishingly perceptive," she said.

D'Argencourt staggered a bit before he dropped to one knee. "Please, Your Majesty, forgive my foolishness," he said, quite shaken. "I didn't know... that this was your amulet."

Volpina almost laughed at the pathetic sight. Well, at least he has some manners, she thought as she stroked the fox head on her flute. "Well, now you know," she said flatly, "and now that we can put introductions aside, I command that you take me and the Miraculous back to Agreste at once."

D'Argencourt stared down at the amulet in his hand. His blue eyes were contemplating in a way that made Volpina suspicious.

"But..." the swordsman began.

Volpina's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Did you hear me, Armand?"

"I... Yes, of course," D'Argencourt replied as he rose, this time with a small smile. "I shall take you to Agreste. But first... I want the power and glory that my ancestor, Darkblade, was denied long ago." He now looked up at Volpina, his face twisting with sly malice. "I want my three wishes."

The sorceress's only response was changing her green eyes yellow, and unleashing a burst of lightning from her body.

D'Argencourt let out a girlish scream as he was blasted away, the soles of his feet smoking from the bolt that had struck him.

Volpina's menacing form towered over the man like a wraith. The wind roiled with her. "WHY YOU...!" she started with a voice that carried the rage of the universe.

The snivelling swordsman cringed and raised a hand, as though that would protect him.

Then, Volpina paused... and smiled sweetly.

The wind died down, the sky faded from red to its casual dark blue, and Volpina's eyes returned to their human green.

She let out a conniving giggle and placed a tender hand over her heart. "But of course, Armand. How silly of me," she said innocently. "You shall have your wishes."

D'Argencourt dared to look up at her, blinking confusedly. "I... I shall?" He blinked again, and delight appeared on his face. "I mean... yes, I shall!" He chuckled and stood up, grasping the Miraculous with both hands.

All the while, Volpina continued to grin.

"Let's see... What do I want?" D'Argencourt contemplated. "I want wealth, I want riches, I want..." His eyes broadened. "I know!" He cleared his throat and declared with his fist clenching the amulet, "I wish for the sunken treasure of Coeur du Mer!"

Volpina's green eyes twinkled darkly. "Your wish is my command," she drawled with a bow before snapping her fingers.

POOF!

Water surrounded them, along with a huge wave of bone-crushing pressure.

Volpina glanced around with a satisfied sneer.

Oh, they had found the sunken treasure, all right... inside the shipwreck on the bottom of the ocean. Broken wooden beams stuck out like jagged bones. Glistening coins and jewels bathed the seafloor in broad piles. Seaweed and urchins littered the wreckage, and there were no air pockets to be seen.

Volpina didn't mind. She was a kwami – she didn't need to worry about breathing.

D'Argencourt, unfortunately, did.

With eyes wide and bubbles bursting from his mouth, the swordsman thrashed and kicked about like a flailing fish. It made Volpina laugh.

But as much as she would love to watch him writhe around until he went as still as a sand dune, he was still her only chance at getting back to Agreste. She was just doing this to prove a point.

D'Argencourt's movements became weaker, and his face turned a ghastly shade of blue.

"Aw, poor sweet baby," Volpina cooed, stroking his face like a mother to her son. "Aren't we enjoying our wish?"

The man shook his head, coughing up more bubbles as he struggled to say something.

"I'm sorry, I can't quite understand you," Volpina said, leaning closer. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but... Are you wishing for me to return you to the desert?"

The last traces of air left D'Argencourt's lungs as he let out a painful, "Yes."

Volpina shrugged. "Very well," she said casually. She snapped her fingers again.

POOF!

The sorceress stood there upon the sand, perfectly dry, while D'Argencourt sagged onto the ground like a soaking-wet animal.

The swordsman retched up seawater and coughed violently as he rose onto his hands and knees. Wiping his mouth, D'Argencourt looked up at Volpina with hysterical, hateful eyes.

"You...!" He coughed again before squawking, "You cheated!"

"I granted your wish, just as you said," Volpina insisted, her lip curling up. "It's not my fault you weren't specific enough."

D'Argencourt got back onto his feet, but he said nothing.

"Well, that was two wishes," Volpina said, displaying two fingers before waving an idle hand. "Go ahead and take your time with the third..." Her face darkened and her voice became deadly-cold. "... or I'll make you wish you had never been born."

D'Argencourt gulped.

Once she was assured the man was now taking her seriously, Volpina's demeanour changed once again from a bloodthirsty tiger to a sweet, cuddly kitten. "On the other hand," she stated optimistically while she paced around D'Argencourt, "if you cooperate with me, I will see to it that you are amply rewarded. You shall have all the stolen glory of your ancestor... and more."

D'Argencourt seemed to brighten at that. "All the glory..." he whispered.

"Yes," Volpina confirmed. She stopped in front of him and lifted his chin with a sharp fingernail. "But don't mistake my cooperation for submission. From this moment forward, I am your master. You will treat with me as such, and in return, I will refer to you by the name you so desire." She smiled kindly, though there was a layer of ice hidden beneath her expression. "What say you, Darkblade?"

With those words, Volpina's eyes glimmered like burning coals, and she allowed a wisp of her power to flow from her finger into the unsuspecting swordsman.

The magic made D'Argencourt's eyes turn yellow for a brief moment. Once it stopped, he grinned and bowed like a knight before his queen. "I pledge myself to your service, Your Majesty," he declared adamantly.

Volpina sneered. "Lovely," she said. "Now, if you want your third wish, you must help me to fulfill my greatest wish." Her tone became a low snarl. "Getting revenge on the peasant girl who stole my throne and trapped me in the Miraculous: Marinette." The last word came out like a curse on the wind.

D'Argencourt – no, Darkblade – went stiff at the mention of the girl's name. "I want her dead as well, my queen," he stated with malcontent. "She humiliated me and robbed me of my gold, my army... and my victory!" His mustache curled bitterly. "And there was another was well: an accomplice of hers by the name of Rena Rouge."

Volpina raised a sharp eyebrow. "An accomplice, you say? Describe her."

"Red hair, skin like burnt honey... and eyes like gold."

The sorceress's eyes rose higher. "The street rat," she murmured with realization. The spitfire from the Miraculous Temple. Marinette's best friend. Volpina glanced crudely at Darkblade. "And she got the better of you?"

"She used magic, my queen," Darkblade insisted, gripping the hilt of his rapier vigorously. "Magic very similar to yours. She even looked like you."

It took a moment, but all the pieces eventually came together, and Volpina couldn't help but giggle. "Trixx," she said. "I should have known."

And if what Darkblade said was true, and the treacherous kwami had indeed allied herself with Marinette's friend...

Already, the ingredients for a plot were falling into the sorceress's cauldron and boiling steadily.

"Grant me the victory of killing them myself, Your Majesty," Darkblade said with a fist against his chest. "I will start with the baker's brat, and I will deliver her skewered body to the prince in a pretty package!"

Volpina placed a finger on his lips to silence him. "Let's not be too hasty, my simple-minded friend," she said coolly. "For it is not enough that we simply destroy Marinette. After all... there are things in this world that are worse than death." Her eyes gleamed yellow as wicked pleasure appeared on her face.

She had played this dangerous game many times before. She had toyed with Marinette and left her fate to chance rather than end her miserable life personally.

But Volpina had been left to suffer for long, painful months in confinement, deprived of hope.

This time, when she would finally kill Marinette, the sorceress wanted to see no trace of hope left in those lustrous bluebell eyes. She wanted to see pain and misery, so much that the girl would welcome death without a single ounce of strength to fight back.

Then, at the last minute, Volpina would reveal herself, and the last thing Marinette would ever know on this good earth would be pure, heart-wrenching horror.

"Oh, yes," Volpina purred. "There are things much worse than death."

Her dark, sinister laugh rumbled across the desert before bursting out into a cacophony of cackling.