Night came unusually crisp in the mid summer season of the realm that called Cora's deplorable black citadel home. Melancholy crickets sang their symphony to the wailing wind shrieking over the porous stones. Air gusting over the thin crevices in the basalt rock hewn into a demons crown of the witches keep and the limbs of the trees wailed like ghosts of the castle long since destroyed by Cora's cruel hands.
Large gray owls hooted their hungry inquires into the blackness and stared upon the castles dreaded fanged spires with round golden orbs. Not even they, with their wisdom and power with rending talons of steel and beaks of razors dared even soar over the hide of the citadel. Even if they once risked the peril of her murderous ravens, none dared to fly near the castle on such a night where magic was palpable through the air.
Above, the celestial wheel glowed like a pale lantern in the velveteen darkness. Moonbeams slanted obloquy through the treacherous forest plaintive woodland canopy. The brown skeleton branches of dead trees and pines latticed the moon from below, casting the pale shadow in dapples upon the forest floor and played like morbid puppets upon the stone wall that enclosed the castle.
Night, Rumpelstiltskin knew, was the only time for the most powerful of wild magic to be summoned. Mystic essence of the magic rose from the cooled earth like milky fog though not many could tap into the power. While the moon was never truly seen upon the grounds of Cora's palace, the celestial orb served a purpose in culling the fierceness of druidic power all the while bringing the magic out of the days slumber.
Now, above everything else, was the time to perform the wild magic. When the sun had set, both he hand the enslaved girl had set about feverishly to put things in place. Bowls were gathered, regents counted and tendered, candles places and a host of other tasks to make certain the ritual went by smoothly. Over and over they perused their items making certain not a sprig or candle was out of order.
Cora, in no position to even be in sniffing distance of the magic, sequestered herself inside her tower. The magic of the wilderness had no love for her. Not after she had so ruthlessly wrenched the magic from the gnarled hands of their keepers and burned their trees whilst staining their land with blood.
To some degree, the though of Cora not being present to attend the ceremony was a blessing in disguise to the magical fiend. Her hard scrutiny would make his assistant all the more nervous. How could she concentrate if she knew the cunning eyes of her captor strafed over her, looking for any flaw to punish later? No, better to be alone to coax the magic to bind.
Delicately placing a bowl upon a stone table, the Dark One carefully backed away from the make do altar. They used a room Cora had cleared out with magic for their dangerous purpose. Barren stone walls, once gilt with riches, enclosed the chamber at all sides. The well sized chamber had a stone door, engraved with sigils to at least bite back some of the wild magic if the power went awry. The sigils would not stop anyone without magic from being destroyed but the runes would allay some of the damage.
The altar in the room was a black stone slab as wide as a marble coffin lid was the same color and feel of Cora's keep. Wooden bowls and cups all filled with certain elements festooned the altar were arranged in a large infinity shape spread intermittently with yellowed tallow candles. In the center of the infinity one tall tallow candle jutted forth, towering over the implements upon the altar.
Eyes strafing over the altar, the Dark One fought the urge to swallow an intrepid lump in his throat. His fingers twitched and his palms leaked sweat of cold clamminess as the hour drew near. An old wound, hidden for years throbbed at the side of his gray-gold hide with each moments passing. Instinctively, he massaged the hidden wound under the scaled skin. He had forgotten how much he hated wild magic.
When first harnessing the legendary powers of the Dark One he thought himself invincible. Nothing was out of his budding expertise or ancient skill at his fingertips. At the foolish thought a deprecating smirked flashed on his thin lips. How quick he was to learn otherwise.
"Everything's ready now." Belle claimed quietly from behind the scaled imp, jerking the fiend out of his inward memories.
Blinking rapidly to rid himself of the past that flashed so bright before his eyes, the Dark One turned to the woman lingering about the door. The soft orange glow of candle light paled against her face, turning her into almost a mystical essence herself. Her hair appeared a soft umber and shone like her azure eyes. His pulse sped as her voice reached his ears in sweet melody. His nerves thrilled but he wasn't certain if that was from the magic or something more.
Caution veiled Belle's lovely features as she stared at the odd articles of magic arranged in their places. They had done plenty of mock ceremonies but the altar under the pale sheen of the candles looked suddenly foreign to her eyes.
She was no coinsurer of magic, but some aura pulsed off the set pattern. The hair on the back of her neck flared out on end as the lingering magic swept over the room in an exploratory touch.
Yes, the magic knew very well what was about to happen.
Sternly gathering his wits, the fiend nudged his head to the stone table. "Stop dawdling then; we're wasting moon light." His voice softened, suddenly regretful of his cold tone. She had to be even warier than he. "So long as you obey we should be alright." The Dark One assured awkwardly.
A hint of mirthless laughter nearly left his lips as the words died away. When was the last time he had encouraged anyone?
Breathing deeply, the beauty nodded stoically. Bravery flared in her heart as she padded forward to the opposite side of the altar. Gently, the girl picked up an empty bowl. She guessed on instinct, more than truly knew, if the vessel was the correct one.
Abruptly, as though giving a feint before a fight, the wild magic about them jabbed out. Prickling power ghosted over Belles arms like thousands of tiny spiders, testing her mettle for the task. The magic, above all, would not tolerate the weak trying to control the essence.
Hands shaking violently at the sudden out burst, the beauty fought back a scream. Her heart stopped and lurched in her body with abject terror of wild magic already awry. As she jumped back the container fall from her tremulous grip. A clatter echoed through the room like some strike of thunder at her first blunder. The bowl wobbled at her feet, showing her guilt in plian detail.
A black curse of her own make scolded her inwardly for the mistake. They had not even truly begun and she had become some clumsy lout. Cringing as she picked up the bowl, the beauty dared not look into the midnight eyes of the Dark One. "I'm sorry…." She muttered tenuously and grasped the bowl once more. If she had dropped something so important to Cora her face would have been stinging. Part of her wondered was his temper the same now that they were not in practice any longer.
"No harm done." The fiend plucked the bowl from her grip and laid the item back in place. "Be more careful next time." He warned softly. Now, he knew, was not the time to be the scolding teacher. Now was time for the real thing.
Belle breathed a sigh of relief, soothed by his patience. Her heart pattered once more from the cold stillness of fright. Confidence glimmered like a warm light leading the way from a dark wood. "I will." She promised fervently, her heart taking an oath to do the ritual right.
"Let's start again then." He motioned the beauty to the part of the stone slab opposite of him. "Be warned though. We've no more time to spare. We can make no more mistakes from here."
Once both were in position, the Dark One began the ritual. Standing face to face on opposite sides of the altar, the fiend closed his eyes. There was no trepidation from him about the girl blundering, he sensed in himself, only in the wild magic. Though she could bungle something, he trusted her like he breathed - naturally.
Magic tinged his black fingertips a deep lavender hue as he summoned his power from his vile, murky blood. Power crackled like a small jolt of lightening from his index finger.
Delicately, with his magic, he drew strange runes in the stone tabletop. His fingers worked vapidly in careful instruction of the task. Swirls formed and lines without a wary flaw gouged intricately upon the black stone. If he made one error in the lettering he could easily destroy all the magic Cora had collected and everything else about him as well.
Vapidly, ancient inscription forged by magic slowly appeared upon the table. The stone work changed to allow the engraving a dark hue than the rock. The faint scent of silky sweet magic hung cloyingly in the air from his perilous chore.
The smell wasn't bad, Belle noticed as she stared intently upon his work and droned a chant he taught her. Unlike Cora's magic that smelled like pungent ammonia, but just different.
A tenuous breath of relief rattled past his thin gray lips as he finished the carving upon the stone. Damson wisps of magical smoke curled into the cool air and glided away on the drafty breath. Steadily, the fiend calmed his black heart and forced the magic to the most powerful. Now the harder part could begin.
"Get the vial with the water." Rumpelstiltskin commented gently as though speaking too loudly would end them in a douse of pernicious fury. He motioned to a bowl belonging to a gray stone mortar and pestle. "Pour the water into the stone bowl and do not spill a single drop."
If even a dash of water fell upon the runed table the magic would try to break free. Waters counterpart was not stone and the magic would not expect the union.
Nodding, Belle delicately plucked up the vial of water. The cold, rippling water glowed in an eerie, twinkling blue as though some compound in the liquid was active. The water had not seemed like such a few hours ago, but under candle light the liquid was restless.
Magic, the beauty ascertained warily, the wild magic was upon the water; perhaps was the water. Tipping the vial, she poured gently, her mind focusing on letting every drop roll out.
Magic, strange and dangerous, hummed through the air as she finished the task. The water swirled in a vortex of its own inside the bowl.
"Now oil in the wooden bowl." The dark master commanded next.
Nervously Belle took up a bowl filled with sweet smelling oils. The oil smelt of fragrant lavender and peony but the touch was almost like pine sap. To Belle, the oil was the least of her worries for the bowl was a wooden one. She nearly opened her mouth to inquire upon the foolish request but clamped her mouth shut. Now was not the time to be asking about changes.
Putting the wooden bowl in place she took a sprig of incense from the side of the black altar. Alighting the tip upon the center candle she then dropped the incense into the bowl. For a brief instance the fire did not catch. A thin sliver of smoke snaked from the oil but nothing more.
Inwardly, Belle's heart paused at the lack of flame. There was supposed to be fire. Her breath stopped in her lungs. Had they taken a misstep already? Was even now the magic about to engulf them and snuff out their lives?
Just as she was about to light another twig of incense, abruptly the flames shot up in a brief blaze. Blinding light flared into the room making the pair see spots. The tips of the flames shot to the ceiling as though searching for any dry wood not already enchanted by the Dark One.
Taken aback, Belle danced away. Heat, hungry and greedy, pulsed against her skin. For a moment she thought she had gone awry and that she was doomed to die. Instantly the water in the next bowl rose up like some shark against hapless prey. Slamming against the pillar of fire, the water attacked the conflagration. Quelling the flames the waters brought down the fire back to the bowl.
Gray steam billowed in thick belches to the rafters from the sudden brawl of fire and water, but noting disastrous occurred. Like the fiend had explained, the wild magic was all about balance and carefulness.
Unshaken by the display, the Dark One readied himself for the next part. "The sack of earth next." He motioned his talons to the bag Cora had brought not long ago.
Taking the unicorn hide bag, Belle dumped the contents into another wooden bowl. The ground shook under her as she did so as though the stone gave deference to the clumps of moist earth, but nothing more.
Brief laughter nearly fell from her lips. After the last part of the wild magic, who would have though she was grateful for a small earthquake instead.
"Last of all." The Dark One grimaced and pointed a black nail to another vial. "Wind." His stomach shrank inwardly even as the words peeled from his lips.
Belle spared a glance his way, her blue eyes glittering intrigue and nerves. Staring at him, she all but read behind his eyes. Though he tried to hide his anxiousness, she could see the wariness upon his face. "Wind is dangerous?"
"Not if my sigils are right." He replied cautiously. A long time had passed since he'd dabbled in druid magic. After the last time he had hoped never to again. "You may feel a bit shaky though once the ritual begins. This type of magic has five different components; water, fire, earth, wind, and life. We're getting to the tricky part now."
Nodding studiously, Belle grasped the vial of wind. Wariness skipped through her heart but she did not feel so nervous as she knew she should. Oddly enough she trusted his magic. He was the Dark One after all; surely he knew what he was doing.
Uncorking the bottle she never got a change to ask what to do with the opened container. Air did not necessarily go into a bowl.
In the blink of an eye, the roar of a gale shrieked through the room with utmost fury. Taken off guard by the sudden torrent of magic screaming through the air, the beauty let the bottle drop. The glass phial shattered in every conceivable direction turning the floor into a menagerie of glinting sharp glass as she clapped her hands over her ears.
The candles alit upon the wild alter die in a breath of power leaving only the flames in the bowl for light.
Free, the wind swirled about the room in a dust devil of galloping power. To be free again! The force of the tempest wind caught up the other three elements in the swirling arms of the fateful zephyr. Fire and water and earth swirled about the stone table in a column of vibrant hues.
Blue water mingled with the bright red-orange of brimstone and earth floated sluggishly upon the tornado. Because of the earth element the vortex seemed somewhat stayed, but the fierceness seemed not dimmed in the least.
Belle felt her blood afire at the spectacle of wild magic running free of the constraints of the elements in which they were endowed. Molten lava galloped through her veins and thrilled Goosebumps along her peach toned flesh. Her heart slammed hard against her chest as though any moment her brave heart would break free of her chest and fly amongst the tumult of elements.
She felt as though the wind were taking a part of her and sapping her strength to indulge the elements. Her knees wobbled from the tether the magic clasped unto her and used to steal her energy. The beauty wobbled, but she dared not lean on the altar for support. Now above anything they could not afford something to go wrong.
Grabbing a sacrificial dagger from the table the Dark One gazed over the table at the amazed beauty. This part he had not told her of. The hardest, most painful part of the fifth element.
By his patience and tutelage he had earned her trust and now he was moments from losing her good faith.
His scaled talons flexed nervously over the cold leather handle of the dagger as he steadied himself. Guilt assailed his pounding shriveled heart at the knowledge of what he was about to do. He should, he knew he should but….
Cursing himself roundly the Dark One shot his hand upward to parallel the whirling vortex. His hair fluttered widely in the gale displaying just a tinge of gray at the edge of his dirty brown tresses. Onyx eyes glittered in the display of blinding colors. A crazed smile donned his gray lips as he shot the dagger upward in the other hand.
Words jabbered from his clenched mouth in a mantra of time gone by. Slowly, he drew the knife meant for the beauty's flesh across his palm. A hint of pain flinched against his face but he did not cry out.
Black blood oozed from his sliced scaled hand in a gush of ichor. The life essence slowly trailed down to his wrist as he sliced his palm from one end to the next.
He was supposed to have taken Belle's blood, but at the last moment he disbanded the notion. Besides, his was the blood of magic. His blood would be better served at the task, though he knew what price would come later.
All magic had a price. Even blood magic.
The magic as though sensing his offering of blood, took up the essence in the unstoppable whirlwind. Round and round the tornado spun, slowly becoming a sickly red color of fresh spilled blood. Soon the tornado was fully the hue of blood. The winds roared as though in approval as the blood bound all the elements as one.
Abruptly, the vortex began to transform. The zephyr became smaller and malformed as though some invisible hand were molding the wild power. Smaller and smaller the orb began to shrink and mutate, leaving the tornado into a carnelian orb.
In what seemed like moments the magic was over, leaving a ruby ball floating in the air. Plucking the orb wrought from the vortex of wild magic from the air, the fiend grasped the culled magic covetously. The glassy ball filled with magic was smooth and swirled inside with different shades of red ranging from dull crusted blood to the intensity of ruby.
Sitting in the palm of his scaled hand, the orb pulsed with vibrant growth. Here was a pearl of wild magic
A smile frayed the magical fiend's gray-gold features as he inspected the orb. From now on putting wild magic into the orb would be an easy task. The magic was hungry and always greedy for more power.
"Voila!" The Dark One laughed flamboyantly, his impish trill renewed with the passing of danger. Holding his hand out he displayed the prized orb to the beauty. Snapping his talons, the fiend beckoned fire back to the candles to flood the room with light.
Wide eyed, Belle stared in awe at the smoothed pearl. The sheen of the orb glinted against the oranges flames of the candles. "It's beautiful." She admitted in strictest whispered. Merry laughter drifted melodically from her smile mouth at the sight of success. "You did it! I knew you could!"
Her heart felt glad for him, exuberant for his success in something he admitted was dangerous. He had guided them through, used his magic and come out the victor with them mostly unscathed.
Knew he could? At the words he forced surprise away from his face. Her exclamation sounded so utterly absurd. She said that as though she believed in him.
Gladness filled their hearts as one in some tsunami of elation. Together they had crossed so perilous a boundary, trusting one another. In the throes of the wild magic they had formed an odd alliance that saved pulled them through.
Excitedly, both began to speak to each other. All at once they shed their shadows of master and servant. They spoke as sudden allies with smiles and fearless thoughts in a jumble of words, still off the high of their success.
"I thought we were in trouble at the fire."
"I knew you could handle it. I told you, you were a quick study. You think on your feet."
"Tell me, why did you slash your hand?"
"Speaking out of turn slave?" Cora smooth voice slithered unwelcomingly about the still magic tingling room as they spoke. Like a vile shadow, the witch slipped inside, bearing down blacker darkness into the room.
Now that the magic was sealed and contained in the orb, the power could not try to lash out at her.
In an instant the happy exuberance for the Dark One faded from the beauty's visage. Their words died away like the fight the magic had given as she appeared from the shadows. Once more, the slave girl crept forth from the true woman beneath the eternal servant. Ducking her head she stepped away from the fiend. She knew better than to overstep Cora's rules.
A smile carved Cora's lush mouth as she entered the light with her stately malice. Thin heels clicking upon the stone floor, she stood before the table like some sinister priestess after some bloody sacrifice. Carefully like some cunning cat the witch flicked her eyes to the orb of magic's wild.
Wicked delight enveloped her features giving show to her cruel pleasures. Her blood red mouth curled into an approving grin. "Well done Rumpel. You managed without much damage I see."
"Not so difficult, Cora." A cocky smirk tilted his lips. He toyed with the glassy orb of volatile magic betwixt his talons as though the pearl were a child's toy in his grip.
"You did sustain some injury though." Her almond eyes flicked down to the bowed slave. Her cruel smile pulled into a grim frown of displeasure. She hadn't missed the girl had no blood staining her even if she hadn't overheard. "I thought I said use the slave's blood, Rumpel."
The Dark One tittered and displayed the ruby marble like a trinket to distract his beloved. Belle knew nothing of the last part to the magic. She could hardly be blamed. "More powerful mine." He countered in a chortle.
The witch sauntered close to the fiend, her sensuous body like a prowling cats. Her hands took his own in her magic laden grip. Her gloved finger trailed the already healing cut along his pale palm. "Now you an ugly have a gash on your hand." Her bottom lips jutted out in a pout.
"It will heal." He remarked lowly and placed his hand above hers.
She smiled up at him, her other spell worn hand curling over his claws like ravens talons. "Well at least this is done. We should celebrate." She motioned a hand towards the beauty. Even though the Dark One had succeeded she had not forgotten the girls hands were not stained with blood. "Clean the glass up slave and bring us wine from the cellar." She commanded. "After that, since dawn is almost on the way, you may start to clean the north corridor and get an extra start on your chores."
Belle bobbed her head in obedient deference, ready to serve, but the Dark One stopped her.
Holding her hands tightly, he directed the harpy's vile attention. "Cora, my love, your slave has served you well." He argued for the beauty.
After there magic she had to be drained. Even he, the most powerful sorceress was feeling unsteady. Aches rocked his body and shuddered through his bones. She had had no sleep and was now told to clean moved his black heart in a tinge of injustice to her plight.
The witch perched an incredulous brow. "I should hope so. That's its job."
"The incantations were very taxing." The fiend prodded gently, his voice soft. "The wild magic did not just drain me. She was an adequate helper."
Eyes alit with understanding, Cora frowned. Though he did not speak the words she knew what he was aiming for. "You were always a stickler for fairness." She huffed in displeasure and turned to Belle once more. Still, he had gotten her one step closer to her plots. If he wanted a break for the slave girl then that was nothing.
"Slave you may have the morning in your cell." The witch flicked her fingers in the direction of the girl's cell.
Shock struck the brown haired girl like a fist slammed against the side of her head. The beauty blinked owlishly, not comprehending the words. "Mistress…?"
"Go!" Snapped Cora, her mouth cut into a cruel frown. Already, some feeling niggled at her rotten heart that something wasn't right. Why did the Dark One care all of a sudden if a slave got a few hours of rest and why had he cut his own palm? The wild magic would have taken any dose of blood.
Not daring to say another word the beauty scuttled past the sorceress and swept down the bleak halls like some fleeing ghost. If she wasn't so wary of her good fortune she might have done a cartwheel. No work till the evening? She could hardly believe her luck! But then again her luck had been changing little by little since the Dark One's arrival at his lover's ominous stronghold.
He had promised her a reward, she remembered from their brief conversation in the hall. There had been truth to his words at the time but she had all but forgotten them. Promises were not something she usually kept up with in her situation.
A word of thanks fled her lips silently as she flew down the black stairs to her cell. To have extra rest seemed the best gift given in all her years.
Pushing her door open the enslaved beauty crept into her cell. The ritual had been taxing true enough, but she felt tired not at all. Her blood hummed wildly like some errant spark ignited her senses and her mind whirled to fast to offer any hopes of some sleep on the cold, hard floor.
She thought of too many things to sleep.
In her head thought of the magic, of the moon, of the vortex, and of the Dark One who stood by her and preformed the power. Oh yes, she thought much of him; of his black eyes and his smile and even the gray-green skin which seemed so much like gold in the fire light.
As she entered the cage, the beauty immediately knew something was not all together normal. The cell was still barren as it had been all her long days a slave in the thrall of Cora but now for the first time something different lay upon the cold stone.
Looking down, the beauty stared incredibly at what awaited her. A lone book with a red leather face sat in the center of her floor along with a candle to read by before the dawn light slipped through the window.
Frozen by the sight, Belle could barely see the gift with the hot tears that suddenly pricked her cobalt eyes.
No, the Dark One was not a man to forget his promises.