Reggie's Perspective

Empty isn't a word Reggie ever believed should be used to describe his lungs. The whole point of the things was to, sort of, not be. But he felt like his lungs were completely empty when he woke up.

He sat up suddenly as he heaved in a breath. Precious, full lungs. Finally. Then he noticed it. Green light shone all around him. He looked around, noticing the room was lit by candles that bore green fire. Everything in the room was stone, molded and shaped into strange squares that held shelf after shelf of stranger jars.

He smelled something strangely similar to wet cement. And smoke. A lot of smoke. The smell was overpowering.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Reggie heard. And the voice made him feel afraid for some strange reason he couldn't quite place. Reggie turned toward it and saw Wes and Vivianne standing over him.

"No!" Reggie exclaimed. He was on a strange stone table, surrounded by candles and sigils made of ink. Even his fingers were marked with strange ink sigils and runes. So were his hands. And arms. And he couldn't even bear to check where else.

He swung his leg to the side of the table opposite Wes and tried to run. But when he stood up...he fell straight back down on his face. "Please," Wes said dramatically, somewhere outside of Reggie's sightline as he tried to sit up, "don't run from me, I won't hurt you... physically."

"What?" Reggie said, breathing heavily as he began to sweat. The room was searingly hot. "What did you do to me? Where are we?" When he tried to look at what little he could see, all he could make out was green fire, cauldrons, and ingredient jars.

"Why did you even bring him?" Vivianne asked somewhere. Reggie felt a claw touch the back of his neck and he flinched, pulling himself up to his feet to see the cat familiar and witch. "He should be de-"

"Because he needs to suffer. Motus." Wes said. Reggie felt like a string had pulled him upward. One second he was on the ground and the next he was forced upwards so he was standing on his feet. Then his head moved without him meaning to, allowing him to face a grinning Wes and scowling Vivianne. Their faces were lit by the green candlelight in a way that was...the opposite of reassuring. Wes was using a brush to paint markings on his own skin now. "He needs to watch what we do next."

"What did you do?" Reggie asked, voice shaking. "I feel...strange." He didn't feel quite right. He didn't feel anything. The steady flow of his breathing was gone. Even his heartbeat was gone. He couldn't feel a single sensation. Even the smell of smoke and wet cement was beginning to fade away.

"I'd think you would," Wes said, still focused on the runes he painted on his fingers. "Soul displacement isn't exactly the most natural thing in the world."

"Soul..." Reggie pondered, mind spinning. "Displacement?"

Wes sighed, redipping his brush. "You didn't exactly have a body in a place I could access easily at this time. I made you one out of clay, so...you're welcome, dear Reggie."

"My...what?"

"We're in the past," Wes said. He switched brushes and gestured for Vivianne to bring a new pot of ink, which she did. "My spell worked, obviously," He waved and a mirror flew to him. With a wet brush, he began to paint markings on his throat. "Back in the past, the sunrise of the day Mal and company arrive. And, as soon as they're out of that dome," he shut his eyes, handing the brush to Vivianne so she could paint runes onto his eyes while referencing a drawing of them, "I activate the spell I marked on their souls before we came back here and they become rotten to the core."

It took a moment for Reggie to realize he wasn't breathing. But he didn't even notice it after that. He tried to draw air, but it didn't change anything. Even when he held his breath, no adverse effects at all. "What's wrong with me? Why am I not breathing?"

"You're dead," Vivianne said with a sadistic smile, "this is your eternal torment, dummy."

"Brutal, Vivi," Wes chuckled, his eyes still closed. "Since you're hard of hearing, I'll say it again. Your body is in a difficult place to access, so I had to make a clay one and stick your soul in it. Our bodies were already free at this point, but you were on the island." When Vivianne finished, he waved a hand and warm wind gusted through the room. He opened his eyes when the runes dried, glaring at Reggie in a way that made him very uncomfortable. "You're kinda immortal as long as I keep refreshing the spell. Maybe Vivianne can use you as a scratching post."

"Aww, so thoughtful, Wes," Vivianne said, smiling. Her claws shot out and Reggie stepped back.

"Kidding, don't be a scaredy cat," Wes laughed.

"Hey!" Vivianne said, turning to Wes.

"Scaredy dog," Wes corrected. "Now, be silent, snake."

Reggie felt a searing heat in the collar at his neck and his mouth closed before he could ask how that all worked.

"Fresh candles for the altar, please?" Wes asked. Vivianne began to replace the candles on the strange stone table...or altar, apparently. "It's almost time for our four friends to get a quick little attitude adjustment."

Mal's Perspective

As the limo passed through the barrier, golden light parting for it like a curtain, Mal felt a strange feeling. A weird heat passed through the backseat and she did not like it in the slightest. A nagging thought told her something was wrong...dangerous even. Evie tapped a weird, tiny sheet of paper to Mal's face and she flinched away.

"Relax," Evie said, tapping the sheet to Mal's face. "Told you, plotting face is not attractive face. If you insist on plotting," she was tapping Mal's cheeks and nose, "I insist on blotting."

"Gimme that back!" Carlos complained, reaching for a weird jar of red rubes that looked like pieces of red tire rubber. "Why can't I have the lickereese?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not how you say that," Jay laughed, taking a bite before he spit it out. "Why is that so sweet?"

"Can I have it back now?" Carlos asked.

"Nope," Jay said, tossing the jar across the limo and blocking Carlos when he tried to dive for it.

"Boys," Evie whispered to Mal, rolling her eyes.

The weird heat had not passed. Mal was about to comment on it, but Carlos did first. "Is it me or is Auradon ridiculously hot?" He took off his jacket and Jay snatched it from him.

"Same here," Jay said, taking off his beanie and hiding it in Carlos's jacket pocket.

"Me too," Evie said, taking a new one of those tragically vanilla-scented blotting sheets and using it on her forehead and nose. "Not good for my complexion or a chance to wear the literal dozens of cloaks I sewed."

"Dozens?" Mal asked, grabbing an Auradon Prep pamphlet she'd defaced. She fanned herself with it before it happened.

One second, everyone looked normal for the most part. Then red light shone from their eyes, trailing up through the air as the heat intensified. They all cried out and clutched their chests. It was unbearable, intense, excruciating, burning, overwhelming pain. It felt like there was a thread inside her that snapped. And, when it did, it burned. It burned deep within her and she felt like her heart had become heavier than anything she could imagine. Like the entire Isle, from Chernobog Mountain to Strangling Octopus Cove to The Plateau of Evil to the Shriekwood to the Outlands sat in her chest.

Then it stopped. The pain faded and she felt light. Lighter than ever. All the fear that she'd disappoint her mother. All the nerves about going to the land of prissy princes and princesses. All the anger over her mother forcing her to come here. All the complicated feelings about her budding friendship with Evie, Jay, and Carlos. It was all gone.

There was no worry of disappointing her mother. She was the worst of the worst and it was time for everyone to see it. No need to worry about Auradon, they're all weak and she...is not weak. Her mother forcing her to be here sucked, but it's an opportunity unlike anything else. And...let's face it, who needs friends?

She was ready. She looked at her "friends" and saw them doing the same. Everyone was on the same page. She could tell when she locked eyes with Evie. They weren't friends, they were competition. It was almost sad. How could they even hope to compete against Maleficent's daughter?