Cautiously, she made her way through the dense forested interior of the magical island. The sights and sounds of the enchanted wilderness were beautiful. The trees flowered as if in an everlasting spring. Some of them bore strange, but tempting fruit, not meant for mortal eyes. The water was crystal clear and inviting in the hot sun. All of it was enticing and lovely, but she suspected what would become of her should she stop to taste the island's pleasures. She would soon forget her quest and become lost in the eternal and distracting enchantments. So she did not stop to admire or enjoy anything, but hurried ahead, though she did not know where she was going.

Despite all the lush flora, she saw no creatures as she traveled. No birdsong came from above her head. No rustling at her feet. Only the sound of the breeze and a stream which she followed closely. It was an eerie, unnatural silence that left her restless and compelled her to suspect that some menacing force was nearby and watching her closely. She crept through the forest until she came upon a well-tended path, like one might find in a garden. She considered that no one took the trouble to build a path unless it led to somewhere useful, so she decided to follow it.

Soon, she came upon a wide stone bridge that crossed the stream, and there, blocking the path across it were the three weird sisters. Despite the bright sunlight, they appeared to her in the form of three ancient gargoyles, nearly rotten with age, but she knew them at once.

"Ah, our child returns to us!" greeted the first.

"I'm not your child and you are no parents!" she accused in return.

"And a disagreeable and bothersome brat she is, at that!" complained the second contemptuously.

"Let me pass," she demanded, but the three encircled her, studying her in a suspicious and intimidating manner.

"Another of our kin has had a hand on her," declared the third in a rageful voice, "Who would dare?"

She glared at them, but remained silent. She knew from experience that they had the power to read her memory and force her to do their will and she was powerless to stop them, but she would not willingly betray the young fairy who was helping her.

"Do you not answer?" the first demanded.

"No," she replied, and she could sense the rage burning in the circle of pure magic around her, but still their power did not touch her.

"Impudent wretch!" the second howled, "Do you not know that it is by our power alone that you live? With a thought we could snuff your insignificant life out in an instant. Tell us, which of our rivals has been meddling with what is ours!"

"I don't fear you," she told them arrogantly, "This miserable existence in which you've trapped me is no life. I've yearned for centuries to be released from it. Do what you will."

The three sisters looked at one another uneasily. They hadn't expected her to call their bluff. Demona waited, but curiously, they did nothing to her.

"You will suffer for this insolence," the third threatened, "We will have you enslaved for all eternity! Your soul will be trapped forever in a body that has no will of its own, able to do only our bidding!"

"Even now, we will show mercy," the third continued, confident they had made an impression, "Tell us who you've been conversing with."

"Why should it matter to you?"

They glowered at her, their fury palatable, but they did not act against her, despite their threats.

"How intriguing," she thought out loud, "You've enslaved me many times before. And you've invaded my mind and read my memories without hesitation or remorse. But now, you remain idle. What restrains you?"

The eyes of the three gargoyle forms flamed red with rage, but they didn't answer.

"Since you won't answer, I will pass over this bridge and go on with my quest," she told them, and arrogant with the surprising knowledge that they would not harm her she passed between them. The Weird Sisters shrieked and growled furiously, but they did not strike or pursue her as she continued on the path. As she left them behind her, she wondered what had actually transpired. She had never once understood their connection to her. Why they ever chose to intervene in her life in the first place? What they got in return from the torturous and seemingly pointless bond in which they held her and Macbeth? They had cruelly used her on multiple occasions that she remembered, and several others that she suspected but of which she had no actual memory. They'd never before shown any restraint when loading her with abuse, but now, there was something that stayed their hand and she was anxious to know what it was.

Old Felix has said that Lord Oberon had commanded his children not to meddle with mortals. Was it his will that protected her? But Old Felix had handled and abused her himself when she had arrived on the island. Why should that be allowed, according to the laws of the fairy king? Then an idea came to her. Perhaps it was not Lord Oberon's protection she enjoyed, but Old Felix's.

"Is that it?" she called into the eerily silent woods, "Am I facing my quest already and that is why they couldn't touch me?"

The enchanted forest offered only silence in response as Demona pondered this. Perhaps the first part of Felix's game was learning the rules?

She continued on the path, a bit more confident after her successful confrontation with the Weird Sisters. She walked past the stone ruins of what looked like an an ancient palace or temple. She was about to enter under a large, crumbling archway, so that she might get a look inside. But as she approached, she was disturbed by the sound of several whispering voices. She peeked inside, over the edge of the rubble. A large bowl of oil burned like a lamp in the middle of the space, but there was no sign of anyone inside. The whispering voices grew angry and although she could not make out their words, they sounded as if they were inches behind her, and she was compelled to swat at her ears as if she were being chased by a chorus of very large and aggressive mosquitos that could only be heard and not seen. She left that place immediately and went on through the forest.

Further on, she came upon the base of a green, grassy ridge, that rose from the ground so abruptly that it looked to her like a solid, green wall, standing in the middle of nowhere. The path narrowed at this point, to only enough width for a single person to ascend the top of the ridge on narrow, steep stone steps that disappeared along the top. To the side of the ridge that was visible to her, was a meadow of flowering grasses. She stopped a moment at the base, certain there was more to this odd topography than met the eye. Why would anyone build such a flimsy, narrow stairway up the side of steep ridge when they could simply extend the path through this pleasant-looking meadow? Right beside the bottom step of the ridge was a large stone, sunk into the earth. Faded, but still legible, she saw the admonishment, "Remain on the path." Had she her wings, she would have passed over this nonsense in no time, but as she had at least several hours of humanity left in her day, she decided she might as well climb the narrow stairs and find out what it was all about. At its top, the ridge itself was only a few feet wide and was formed in the shape of a giant circle, as if it had been punched there by a giant meteor. It would be easy for anyone to lose their balance and roll a hundred yards down into the basin or fall down the steeper wall on the other side. From there, she could see the entire meadow, nearly to the opposite end of the ridge. It was flat and looked lovely in the sunshine.

"I might have spared myself the trouble of climbing this bizarre land formation," she thought out loud, "But at least it's a nice view!" It took her longer than she expected to make her way all the way around the basin, but when she had just about made it to the other side, she noticed a long gap in the ridge, over which someone had constructed a very rudimentary stone bridge that had long since begun to decay.

"Of course," she said sarcastically as she eyed the large hole in the middle of the bridge. Grasping the edge nearest the basin, which seemed to be the most intact part, she crept along as smoothly as possible. When she reached the gap, she realized that she was going to have to jump it and hope the remaining structure on the other side would hold her weight. She jumped, spreading her arms and legs as wide as she could, hoping she could keep hold of any part of the bridge that remained after she hit it. She landed mostly on her stomach and the bridge lurched, with a series of cracking sounds. She scrambled to her feet and ran the last few steps to the rest of the path just in time to look over her shoulder and see a huge chunk of the support of the bridge rolling down the slope of the basin. Then, to her even greater surprise, the earth itself began to shake violently and the smooth, grassy bottom of the basin rolled like waves on the water. As the chunk of bridge rolled down to meet it, the earth opened like a great mouth and swallowed the chunk of stone. Then, with a grumble, the earth opened once again and regurgitated the chunk back onto the surface, where it landed with a loud thud. Then the grassy basin returned instantly to its former, quiet state.

"There is an advantage to being a rule follower," she admitted out loud as she turned and descended the second set of stairs backward, making sure to keep her hands on something study, less the ancient stones slip from their place and turn her into the earth monter's next meal.

As she continued upon the path, she became aware of the sound of far off laughter. Not at all the malicious, taunting laughter of Old Felix, but no less mysterious. Whenever she heard it, she stopped again to listen and try to guess where it came from, but it seemed to come at her from every direction at once. She began to wonder if the sounds came from within her own mind.

It was finally nearing sunset, and the woods had become too dark for her human eyes to navigate easily. The path suddenly became very steep, as if going up an embankment, but when she reached the top, she was surprised by the sight of a gentle flame. It was a torch, set to light the way of a wooden boardwalk that was constructed into the side of a hill. A bit disoriented, she let her eyes adjust to the light and she realized that the path had led her to another basin, this time in the mouth of an open cave. A wooden boardwalk clung to the wall of the basin and hung over a clear pool of water, which reflected the lights of several torches that lit the way. A light water chute sprinkled from an opening in the roof of the cavern, along with the last beams of daylight, but the pool appeared to be fed by a spring that bubbled from underneath. On the opposite edge of the cavern from where she stood, even more torches illuminated a large, stone shelter that overlooked the spring. She walked along the boardwalk cautiously, taking in the lovely scene. The stone structure was somewhat like a giant veranda with a roof to give shelter from the rain. The rails on the edge that overlooked the water were planted with beautiful Avalonian flowers that glowed in the dim light, and inside, she could see and smell the signs of a roaring fire in a large stone hearth. As she crept into the light of that fire, she gasped in surprise, for the veranda gave shelter to the stone figures of several sleeping gargoyles.

For several still moments, she stared in amazement, and then the realization set in. She was looking at her own clan's stolen children. As if afraid to disturb a beautiful dream, she crept across the stone floor, looking into their faces but seeing those of her lost brothers and sisters. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at them. She felt like something dirty and unholy, defiling a sacred place. They had been celebrating something when the sun rose. The vessels on the wooden tables still held the remnants of their meal and many of their faces still beamed with silent laughter. A male and female embraced together in the corner. Clearly lovers, they had held one another to greet the dawn. Three sisters crouched together on a large boulder, overlooking the spring. One of them looked as if she were telling a juicy story, while another looked as if she were daring the third to jump into the spring below. A group of brothers were frozen in laughter, while one glared defiantly, clearly the subject of their joke. Another group of them were crouched around the fire, some gazed into it thoughtfully as others seemed to be telling stories.

She wept with relief as she knelt among them. She had failed them all so thoroughly, but still they lived. In happiness and peace, they lived on in this magical, sacred realm. Her daughter had been raised here as well, but for reasons she could never fully understand, she had chosen to leave this paradise to join them in the tortured world she had been born to. Still, this place had been her childhood home. It was where she'd first known love. Where she'd learned courage, loyalty, and hope. Or perhaps, she hadn't learned those at all? Perhaps they were innate in her; her father's spirit reborn in a new life? But had she not hatched in this place, had she instead hatched unsheltered in the cruel world and survived its many outrages, could that spirit have ever endured? Either way, her mother wept in gratitude.

She remained there, kneeling as if in prayer, until she felt the first pains of her transformation. But then, as she had done so many centuries before, she panicked. She knew not what she could say to them or what good she could do or be for them. She knew only that she had no right to be among them, so she fled into the woods.