When the snow was still heavy on the ground, the villagers first witnessed a large, black shadow moving closer to the village. As it came through the mist, the shadow revealed itself to be a mighty black wolf with shinning green eyes.
For many it was the last straw. They had survived years of hardship; their farms failed, their crops destroyed, the animals vanished, cut off from the outside world, family and friends disappeared over night, their children stolen away by the Castle.
To now be finished off by this Fenrir seemed a fittingly bleak ending to their suffering. For death to not even be the relatively painless drifting off of starvation but instead the pain of being torn apart by a monster.
Many had gripped their rosaries, chipped and worn, an appropriate representation of their belief in a benevolent god but a lack of any other hope. The giant dog was panting hard, a dark red tongue lolling from its jaws. It had run long and hard to reach the village.
But then, one woman cried out in a hoarse voice, "look, children!"
By the large wolf's padding paws were two brothers, Mitch and Mike. The boys were starved, thin and bare. But their eyes were resilient.
Villagers, those who were strong enough to walk, spilled out of their homes. The Professor was one of them. The cry of children heralded the possibility of his three girls, all long lost.
A mother fell to her knees, shocked to see her two sons. The brothers would have run to their mother in normal circumstances, but everyone was too weak for such shows. Instead they bore through the thick and freezing snow until, at last, they reached their sole surviving parent. Falling into each other's arms, all three wept for some time.
The large wolf, knowing that its size was intimidating, lay on the ground, its paws tucked under its chest. It watched the displays of affection with curiosity and not a little envy. Its tail flicked left to right incessantly, a sign of it not being able to stay completely still.
In the distance, high up in the Little Carpathians, there was a long low howl. The black wolf's ears pricked up and its tail stopped tick-tocking momentarily, before it began its movement again. The howl had frozen the villagers, who had long feared wolves, even before the Long Winter.
Now a few brave souls stepped towards this large, hulking creature of claws and fangs. It was no ordinary wolf. It was too large and its eyes were too clever. This creature was bewitched.
"What devilry is this?" whispered a woman, grabbing the crucifix that hung against her chest.
"It bought us home," said Mitch, "it saved us. That and those girls."
"What girls?" asked the Professor, "and from what were you saved?"
"The castle is haunted," answered Mike, "by evil creatures they-"
But his sentence was never completed as suddenly there was a huge white explosion from the castle. A great sea of magic crashed throughout the land, making the villagers fall to the ground from its force.
The thick snow was torn up from the land and cast high into the air where it dissipated. Flowers and grass sprung from the earth and burst into bloom. The air became warm and gentle. Smells of fruit and flowers enriched the atmosphere and finally just as the magic cooled down, the sounds of running rivers and of birdsong were heard.
"The curse," they began to whisper, "it's lifted!"
The people couldn't cheer, too weak from their suffering, but instead they were dazed. The sun, bright and yellow and fat, blazed against their eyes. The amount of colour and smell was over whelming for the senses. People began to weep, feeling the steady heat sinking into their bones.
It was all over; the horrors were over.
Such was the shock that it took a few moments for people to notice that the wolf was no longer there. Instead, in its place stood a boy dressed in fine but old clothes that were too small on his. His hair was wild and unkempt, his eyes a fierce green and he had a haughty look about him. His hands twitched with barely controlled energy.
Before them stood a Prince.
"The curse is over," he said, his voice raspy from misuse and due to him being on the verge of adolescence, "the girls must have cracked the curse."
"What girls?" cried the Professor again, "one of ours? Girls from our village?"
"The triplets," responded the boy, turning and fixing the Professor with a steady stare, "the red-head, the dark-haired, and the blonde one."
The Professor choked back a sob, "m-my girls," he stammered, "fit such a description."
The boy regarded his for a moment before continuing, "they will need help. More survivors are up in the hill sides, but the girls will need help to vanquish the final evil. I'm going to go now to help them. We will win, so get yourselves strong and ready to welcome them back home. I will return with your daughters."
"And what of the rest of us?" asked a woman with thin brown hair, "how many of us will get our children back?"
The boy seemed, for the first time, to falter in his confidence. "Many have died," he said after a prolonged silence, "it's been many years. But I shall help avenge you all."
The woman closed her eyes and turned away. Her daughter had gone up to the castle over a year ago, there was no chance of her still being alive. She walked away from the crowds, the beauty of the land around her meaning nothing. A few others followed her, the inevitable loss of their children too much to bear and the promise of vengeance being hollow after so much time of desperate hope.
"But who are you?" said a man, falling forwards as the black-haired prince turned to leave.
"I'm one of your long-lost princes," the boy said, "I am Prince Butch, one of three."
He gave them a small bow, before running back up the hill with unnatural speed and strength, as if the energy he could just about hold in during his talks with the villagers was finally released.
The Professor felt his thin legs give way from under him. The earth he fell to was soft, the green blades of grass tickling his rough skin. His vision blurred with tears. Was it possible that his girls were still alive?
Up in the hills, a blue-eyed boy stared out of a cave onto the beautiful kingdom before him. He turned to his awe-struck band of survivors.
"I need to leave," he said, his nose stuffy and his voice younger than that of his brothers, "but help will come. The villagers will be here when they are strong enough. First I have to help defeat Elizabeth."
A man, crouched on the floor as he was no longer able to move, lifted his emaciated arms to grip Boomer's hands in his own.
"Good luck my sweet Prince," he whispered, tears in his dark brown eyes. He must have been handsome once, before the hunger and the violence met upon him. Boomer felt his insides shift uncomfortably; this was all the fault of him and his brothers. They had not done their duty as Princes and their people had suffered for it.
He nodded at the man, his lips pressed together in a thin white line, before he headed out into the sunny, warm, Slovakian wilderness.
Back in the Castle, Buttercup and Bubbles made their way slowly up the dark, winding stairs. Prince Brick had left Blossom, still unconscious, on the warm grass outside of the castle doors.
"We could wait a while," he had informed the girls earlier, "my brothers are coming. It should be us who defeat her."
But Buttercup had refused. "No disrespect your majesty," she'd answered with insincerity, "but I do not know you and you lost to her before. Besides, it's my family and my village that suffered under her. We have as much right to defeat her as you and your brothers."
She had then brushed passed him and gone upstairs, her sister, sweet and fair, giving him an apologetic smile before following after her dark-haired sister. Brick didn't pitch a fit, like he would've back when he was younger. The last few years had been hard on the boys, and watching all the death and destruction that happened because of their weakness had humbled him. So instead he took one last look to the outside world and hoped his brothers would arrive soon, before walking up the stairs after the sisters.
"She was at the very top of the castle," Bubbles whispered to her sister, "in one of the turrents. The roof was torn open and snow was coming in."
They reached the uppermost landing. Down the left side was darkness. Down the right was a light blue light and snow piled on the floor.
"I'm guessing down that way then," muttered Buttercup.
They walked slowly, closer and closer into the darkness. When they reached the snow, they looked up. A hole could be seen, far up, in the roof. The rot through the roof must have seeped through the floor and the ceiling of the hallway. Had winter continued, it would have carried on all the way down to the bottom floor. As it was, through the hole they could see the sky was a deep summer blue. Two birds flew across quickly, twittering as they did. Even the snow on the floor, they could now see, was beginning to melt.
To the end of the corridor was a door. It was painted a deep vermillion and was plainer than most of the doors throughout the castle. They turned the knob, behind the door was another set of stairs, metal and winding and creaking.
There was no choice but to go up in a line, as it was so narrow. Buttercup went first, Bubbles next and Brick at the rear.
Meanwhile, outside, Butch met his brother Boomer outside of the castle. A red-haired girl lay on its doorstep.
The boys looked at each other.
"Is she the one who had the blindfold of thorns across her eyes?" asked Boomer.
Butch nodded. She had been the one they couldn't quite save. It had driven Brick over the edge. Another lost soul. One he had liked.
But here she was, alive and breathing and in the sun.
Brick sniffed her, "he turned her into one of us."
"Better that than vampire," said Boomer, "come on, they're inside, I can smell them."
The boys ran quickly, tracing the scent of Blossom's sisters and their own brother up the winding stairs.
On entering Elizabeth's room, Buttercup looked around carefully, including up on the ceiling. There was nothing, but the room had its shadows. A large bed with curtains around it and heavy quilts stood in one corner. Beside it was a vanity, rotted and filled with various perfumes and make up. The room, now that the cold hadn't frozen it over, stank of decay.
A large free-standing mirror stood in the middle of the room, beyond it was a large messy hole.
Brick came in, sniffed and growled softly.
"Is she in here?" whispered Bubbles.
He nodded, "but I don't know where," he began to pace carefully around the room, focusing on the bed. He walked slowly, like a predator.
The Utonium girls stood still and tense. Bubbles and Buttercup trained their eyes to the luxurious but worn bed. Underneath it, the shadow seemed thick and heavy.
Bubbles turned her eyes away resentfully, to talk to Brick, to tell him to look beneath the bed. He was stalking about by the mirror and it took her a moment to realise.
"Prince Bri-!" she managed to scream before Elizabeth suddenly came out of the mirror hissing. Her face was a ghastly white, almost blue, tinged with death. Her fangs were large and curved and jutting out of elongated gums like a venomous snake's.
An inhuman growl ripped its way out of Brick as the two tumbled together, her trying to bite his neck and him fiercely beating her with heavy blows.
At once, the door was opened and in flew the last two brothers.
Bubbles went to help, without even thinking, but Buttercup put her arm in front of her sister, causing Bubbles to look at her questioningly.
"Best we stay out of this sister," warned Buttercup, "this is a battle between them."
The three princes battered Elizabeth with thuggish brutality Bubbles would not have thought possible from the gentry. Elizabeth, alone and weakened from the sun and daylight, was smoking as well as being pummelled by the boys. After a few horrible minutes the boys backed away, staring at the mess of their cousin. She was a bloodied mess and soon burst into flames. She was silent the entire time, dying in silence.
When she was gone, Bubbles let out a light sob.
It had all been too horrible.
The boys looked at her, each covered in blood and their fists red and blistered from the beating they'd just met out. They had the decency to at least look ashamed.
The handsome one, the blond, looked to say something, but Buttercup grabbed Bubbles arm and dragged her out of the room and down the stairs. Soon they were outside of the castle, back in the beautiful sunshine with their red-haired sister still asleep on the grass. Letting go of Bubbles, Buttercup allowed her sister to fall shakily to her knees before vomiting onto the grass.
"It's over Bubbles," Buttercup breathed in deeply, "it's all over."