Princesses 'Pon Lysa Hora
Many have heard tell of the tales of Lysa Hora, the "Bald Mountain."
Legends claim that such a place — if, indeed, there is only one as many sites have been claimed by the name — is the site of the feared yearly witch's sabbath. A time where the most wicked of practitioners would gather to pay homage and draw power from the forces of evil.
However, reality is rarely so black and white.
For upon a certain Halloween night — when not only the borders between the mortal and magical planes, but even those of space and time, are more fluid — a gathering did occur. But twas no vile assemblage. Nay, these maidens all learned in magic, were chosen for their purest of hearts to save their world from a terrible calamity.
And so go their tales …
Cinderella hummed to herself as she helped out in the castle kitchens to prepare lunch. Her beloved Charming had always looked at her with bemused fondness when she volunteered, once asking why she would want to do this work that could remind her of her servitude to her stepfamily.
Her answer had been simple, "I have a choice, now. And I have always enjoyed cooking."
And as far as her husband was concerned, that settled that. He also always seemed to know when she had volunteered in the kitchens and savored the difference such love in the food would make. Not to mention it made her very popular with the cooks, who fawned over her for being a noblewoman who treated them kindly and respectfully.
What none of them, including the woman herself, could suspect was that Cinderella's skills were not mere talent. At least, not merely mundane talent in the kitchen. Cinderella was a magus, a human with innate talent in magic. Such men and women were not as uncommon as one might think. If their talents were left untrained, they tended to manifest in subtle, indirect ways.
Cinderella's strongest gift — her talent, her inclination, her knack, flair, and forte — was the art of enchantment. Much like her fairy godmother who had turned a pumpkin into a carriage, animals into human servants, and tatters into a beautiful gown, Cinderella had the natural magical skill to imbue new qualities upon objects or substances, or to enhance the qualities they already possessed.
Without proper training, her power was as simple as enriching the taste and nutrition of the food she prepared with love. Her stepfamily had not benefited from this gift during the years they treated her so terribly, but her husband and father-in-law, as well as all of the castle servants, benefited in spades.
But, as it happened, such small skills would not help save the world.
As Cinderella returned to her and Charming's shared suite after lunch, she sighed with the satisfaction of a job well done. Then she blinked and realized that something was off in the light shining through the windows. Glimmering motes like tiny stars seemed to be scattered about the room. Before she could puzzle them out, the glittering motes drew together and formed into the form of someone very familiar.
"Fairy godmother," Cinderella said delightedly.
"Hello, dear," the fairy godmother said warmly. "How are you?"
"Oh, just wonderful," Cinderella replied, striding forth to hug the fae matron. "It's all I could have wished for."
"So much more than just a carriage and a ballgown, hmm?" her godmother chuckled, patting the girl's cheek. Her smile faded though into something like regret. "Cinderella, I have to say I'm not here just to visit."
"Is something wrong?" Cinderella asked, taking her godmother's hand in her own. "Can I help?"
"Nothing is wrong … quite yet, dear," her godmother saud cryptically. Then her dark eyes began to glitter. "Though there is certainly a way for you to help, if you are willing."
"What must I do?" Cinderella asked.
"A dark force is gathering, Cinderella," her godmother said. "One that will threaten all of this world. You, child, have a destined role in stopping this terrible evil."
"Me?" Cinderella asked. "How?"
"To help, dear," her godmother said with a small smile, "you must let me teach you. Train you." She looked around as if searching for something before blinking and then chuckling to herself. She lifted a hand and drew from thin air her thin, ivory wand from thin air. "You yourself must become learned in magic."
"Oh," Cinderella said, mystified by such a request. Her? Learn magic? "Well, I did promise to help."
"Such a kind girl," the fairy godmother chuckled.
The princess Aurora, known to a select few as Briar Rose, gasped as she awoke. She sat up as sweat beaded her brow, her heart pounding and breath racing. Images from her dream danced before her eyes, seared into her memory.
A high hill, overlooked by a great and terrible mountain. A full moon hanging over a cobbled town. Five candles were lit and shining in a circle, even as the dark night seemed to press upon their light. And a pair of ghastly orange eyes blazing in the darkness over a leering grin of yellowed fangs …
"What is happening to me?" Aurora whispered. Her nightmares had been getting worse, to the point where her parents had seen fit to have the royal physician examine her and offer medicines to help her sleep. None worked; in point of fact, they seemed to make the nightmares worse.
But what Aurora knew she could never reveal was that she had an inkling of what these dreams were. Just as she had dreamed of her dear betrothed Philip, mere days before Luck, Fate, and Destiny had brought them together to meet for the first time since her christening, so were her dreams now: a sign, a portent, a vision. And in this particular case, she knew in her bones, a warning.
"Oh, Aunt Flora. Fauna, Merryweather," she sighed. "I wish you could tell me what's happening."
As if in reply, three little balls of light zipped through her window to hover at her bedside before growing into the Three Good fairies who had raised her.
"Now, now, dear," Flora said, "we will always be there to help you."
"We raised you for sixteen years, dear," Fauna said kindly.
"You're stuck with us, Briar Rose," Merryweather said.
"Oh, you wonderful darlings," Aurora said, rising from her bed to wrap them all in a group hug. "Oh, what's happening to me?"
"You are feeling a warning," Flora said. "You, Briar Rose, possess the supernatural gift of foresight. Whether it's a natural thing for you or was brought upon by our blessings when you were a child, we cannot tell. But it is a part of you, as is the latent power within you."
"A terrible force is rising," Fauna added. "Your Sight" — Aurora could feel the emphasis on that word, the weight that meant it was far more than the vision of her eyes — "can sense the Darkness gathering."
"You mean like Maleficent?" Aurora asked.
"Worse," Merryweather said bluntly. "Something older, stronger, and infinitely more terrible."
"Well, you can stop it, can't you?" Aurora asked.
"Oh no, dear." Flora said gravely. "At least, not alone. We could not even stop Maleficent alone." The fairies' grave looks softened into something warmer. "But mortals have a power all their own. Philip used it with our aid to vanquish Maleficent. And now, the three Great Forces are preparing those who can fight this terrible foe."
"Who?" Aurora asked.
"Many women of pure heart who carry the gift of magic," Fauna said.
"Women like you," Mettyweather said. "Close your eyes, Rose. And look to the future."
Aurora blinked before nodding and doing as Merryweather said. The three fairies shared a nod and passed their wands over the young woman in perfect sync, using their own innate power to help focus their Briar Rose's gift of sight. Her gift had manifested in dreams as she grew up and bloomed into womanhood, but with guidance and practice, she would see visions and signs, both at will and when the powers of Luck, Fate, and Destiny willed it so.
"Oh, I see …" Aurora gasped. "I see those five candles shining against the deepest darkness."
"Yes, dear, that's it," Flora said.
"Those mortals who will resist and save this world," Fauna added.
"Which means you have much to learn," Merryweather declared. "And very little time to learn it in."
Even in the reaches of the Far East, plans were in motion to prepare …
"Alright, now add the bamboo sprouts."
Shang Mulan, granddaughter of the fabled woman warrior Fa Mulan for whom the girl had been named, rolled her eyes at the advice of the dragon Mushu, who had guided her grandmother through her campaign against the Huns.
"Isn't the next ingredient cobra fangs?" she asked wryly.
"Man, you really are way more sassy than your grandma," Mushu pouted before snaking his way up a pillar in the workshop and hardening into a bronze statue.
"Fine, go ahead and pout," Mulan said fondly, then got back to work. It really was a mystery, even to her, how she had gotten involved in the mystic arts of her homeland. Many had for whatever reason assumed that she would follow in her legendary grandmother's footsteps and gone with her general father, Fa Mulan's son like his father before him, into the army.
And yet she knew that she would not be accepted in her father's ranks. Whether it be simply as a woman or because of the fame of her grandmother whom she loved dearly, especially after the kind old woman's passing, the army would not suit her. But her grandmother had always encouraged her to be true to her own heart and to find what she loved to do.
As it happened, the magical arts of her homeland had intrigued her. The wu shamans had drawn her in and she had begun her study of magic, cultivating her power to the best of her ability. The emergence of Mushu, her family guardian, had certainly helped as he tried to aid in her learning. She'd found a particular knack for brewing magical potions and remedies, and her work had garnered much honor and respect in her village and even beyond.
"And now set it to simmer," Mulan said, placing a large pot of potion onto a fire to cook. "That'll be ready by morning."
"Well done, child."
Mulan looked around to find the ghost of an old woman looking at her with a smile. Though wrinkled and creased, Fa Mulan's spirit still carried a sense of energy and elegant beauty.
"Grandmother," Mulan said happily. "You're here!"
"Yes, Mulan," she said. "I'm here to warn you."
And Fa Mulan told her granddaughter about a terrible evil rising in the west. One whom she would need to lend her power to defeating. As she listened, Mulan nodded in determination.
She would do her part.
"It's crazy, Pascal," Princess Rapunzel said. "According to these books, I could do what no other magus can."
Pascal chirruped from her shoulder in support, unable to do much more than listen to his lifelong friend.
In the few years since she had returned to her parents, Rapunzel had discovered, quite by accident, that she still held the magic of the sun inside her. No one was sure how, but in moments of intense emotion, she'd been able to tap into that power to heal just like she had when her hair had been seventy feet of gold.
But unlike when her hair was long, the effort had left her exhausted, as if the energy to heal was coming from her own body instead of whatever power had come from the magic flower that had been the origin of her magic.
Well, Rapunzel was never someone to let a mystery go unsolved. And so, under the guidance of her mother, she had scoured the royal library for tomes on magic. A lot of it had been kind of scary, with witch hunts and the church condemning it and everything, but other legends such as the golden flower, fairy godmothers, Merlin from the legend of King Arthur, and even tales of hedge witches and village healers had painted a picture of those with the gift to use magic for good.
"I just don't understand it," Rapunzel continued, marking her place in one of the books. "If cutting my hair didn't break the magic, then what happened? How can I find out?"
"Well, you could always ask."
Rapunzel gasped and leapt to her feet as a voice echoed from thin air. She pulled a frying pan, with her name engraved on the handle as a gift from her father, from her desk and held it ready. Pascal trilled and looked around, his chameleon eyes coming in handy for that but still not seeing anything.
"Who's there?" Raounzel asked, keeping her voice level as she turned to try and find the source of the voice, her frying pan always held in front of her.
"If you would put down the skillet," the echoing, disembodied voice said, "I'll happily tell you, your highness."
"How do I know you won't try and grab me when I put it down?" Rapunzel asked.
"Oh, that's easy," the voice said. "I don't actually need you to put it down."
Rapunzel yelped as the frying pan jerked in her hands and then leapt from her grip, floating about as if dancing on thin air. She couldn't deny that she stared. Even in her life, a floating, dancing frying pan wasn't something you saw every day. And then there was a puff of white smoke that cleared to reveal an old man with a long white beard, dressed in a blue robe with a matching tall pointy hat and shoes, tiny glasses over his eyes and a cane or walking stick in his hand.
"My apologies, Princess Rapunzel," the old man said genially and flicked his walking stick like a music conductor, the frying pan toddling through the air to settle next to Rapunzel on the desk. "But honestly, princess," he said, his tone turning grumpy, "what kind of polite young lady threatens an old man with cast iron cookware."
"One who was kidnapped as a baby?" Rapunzel suggested. At those words, the old man seems to freeze before sighing and removing his glasses to clean them one-handed on his robe, the other still holding his walking stick.
"Fair enough," he admitted, his tone back to affable. "My apologies, Princess Rapunzel."
"How do you-?" Rapunzel cut herself off. "Corona. You know me because you know where I am."
"That's certainly one way, yes," the old man said. "Now, I believe it only fair that you know my name." He cleared his throat and stood straighter, both hands perched on the head of his walking stick. "My name is Merlin."
Rapunzel blinked and lowered her frying pan an inch or three. "You mean-?"
"Yes, yes," the old man — Merlin?! — said, waving his hand for a book to draw itself from a stack of them on the floor. The book opened itself and turned the pages to reveal an illustration of Merlin and King Arthur. The picture wasn't a perfect match, but it certainly resembled the old man before her.
One who had appeared in her room in a puff of smoke and animated her frying pan.
"Why are you here?" Rapunzel asked, still wary but also curious.
"To give you what you asked for," Merlin said. "An explanation for your magic. And to offer a warning and an offer."
"Warning and offer?" Rapunzel asked.
"They come later, my dear," he said, waving it off. "In the meantime, may I sit down?"
Rapunzel glanced at Pascal, who shrugged, and then gave Merlin a hesitant nod. Merlin chuckled and began to sit but realized there was nothing there to sit on. Then he made a patient, beckoning gesture to one of the chairs … which walked its way over to him for him to take a seat.
"Now then, your own magic," Merlin said with a sigh. "Shall we start there?"
"Yes, please," Rapunzel said, taking a seat of her own.
"Well, I know about the Sundrop flower and Gothel," he began.
"How do you know all that?" Rapuzel asked, her suspicion largely gone and replaced by her usual sunny cheer.
"Well, remember, I am the world's most powerful wizard," Merlin said. "A soothsayer!" He spread his arms dramatically. "A prognosticator!" He took off his glasses for emphasis. "I have the power to see into the future! Centuries into the future!" He calmed himself a bit and added, "And I can even travel there, as I have now."
"Wow," Rapunzel said, and Pascal chirruped in agreement.
"Now then as to the Sundrop," Merlin continued, shuffling in his seat to get comfortable. "That plant was an incredibly powerful magical object, of a kind rarely seen. Frankly, Gothel's use of it was small-minded and trivial. But when your mother drank an infusion of the Sundrop to be healed of her illness, it transferred that power to you." He pointed at her with his walking stick.
"Now, you probably think that the magic of the flower turned your hair blonde, but that is not strictly true."
"But my hair was blonde," Rapunzel said. "Even my parents have said I was born blonde."
"As I said, that is not strictly true," Merlin asserted. "You must understand that the raw power of the Sundrop was far too great for your newborn body to handle. In order to protect itself, your body learned to constantly release that power from the keratin of your hair. Oh," he lifted a finger like her tutors often did when making a point, "you might also be interested to know that such a thing also drastically sped up how fast your hair grew. On average, at age eighteen, even with the foot or so of hair you were born with, it should have only been about ten feet. Given that you had about seventy feet of hair, far more than many could grow in a lifetime, this sped growth persisted for your life until it was cut."
"So, wait, back up," Rapunzel said, waving her hands in front of her, "you're saying that my hair only looked blonde because it was always using the sun's magic?"
"Ah, you are a sharp one," Merlin said approvingly. "Indeed, you are correct. Your hair was actually always brown underneath the magic of the sun. And when you would consciously tap into the Sundrop's power, your hair glowed because of your body channeling more of its power to heal whomever you were singing for. Now, as to why your hair reverted to its true color when it was cut," he tapped his chin, "I believe that it was the act of severing your hair that had channeled the magic for your entire life. After eighteen years, your body adapted and could handle the Sundrop, and so no longer spent its energy growing your hair faster or releasing excess magic."
Rapunzel thought over all that Merlin had told her and nodded. "Okay, I guess that makes sense."
"Very good," he said. "But I believe you have run with the assumption that you no longer have that magic."
"I thought I didn't," Rapunzel admitted. "But there have been a few times where it seemed like I did." She explained the tear that had brought Eugene back to life, or at least from Death's door, and the few instances where she had healed others, but felt exhausted afterward.
"Well, with that in mind, I believe I know what is going on," Merlin said with a grin. "I believe that the tear that healed your fiance was an expression of the Sundrop, reacting to your emotions and desire to save Eugene. When it left you, it should have meant you could no longer use its power."
"So how have I healed since?" Rapunzel asked.
"Because you are a born magus, Princess," Merlin revealed. "That you have your own innate magic, much as many do without realizing it. Carrying such a powerful separate magical power within you may have altered your own magic, making it more like the Sundrop." He stroked his beard. "When the Sundrop was a part of you, you could channel incredible raw magic from the sun itself." He reached out to the sky as seen through the window. "The sheer power of a truly humongous nuclear furnace! One over a million times larger than the very Earth! Over a billion years old and still only halfway through-!"
He seemed to catch himself and looked at Rapunzel, who was staring blankly at him. "Ah, yes. Sorry about that. Those are things mankind has not yet learned." He cleared his throat awkwardly and settled again. "Anyway, when your hair was long, it channeled all the magic needed to heal others and probably more. But without the Sundrop and its direct link to the sun, your own healing powers rely on your own strength. Hence why, without proper training, such intuitive use has left you so tired."
"So … could I train my magic?" Rapunzel asked.
"Indeed you could," Merlin said, adjusting his glasses with a sigh. "Which fortunately leads to my warning and offer."
"You want to train me," Rapunzel realized, eyes brightening as she smiled.
"Yes, I do," Merlin said, though his voice was grave. "But you must know why, my dear. A terrible evil tried to arise many years ago, and several like me have begun training the mortals across space and time who are meant to stop it."
"Did you say 'are' meant to?" Rapunzel asked. "You said it was in the past, though."
"Indeed," Merlin answered. "Maidens trained in the mystic arts who were and are destined to be there to prevent such a terrible calamity. Which is why I must ask," he hefted himself to his feet with an audible crackling of old joints. "Will you, Princess Rapunzel of Corona, learn from me in order to do your part to save the world?"
Rapunzel gaped at him and at the question. "I mean, will it work without me?" she asked. Merlin slowly shook his head. "Then I don't really have a choice, do I?" she asked with a shaky smile.
"Oh, my dear," Merlin said seriously. "You always have a choice. That's the point of it all." He clapped the end of his walking stick to the ground in emphasis. "And every choice has consequences, good or bad."
Rapunzel thought about that and then set her jaw. "Then I choose to help, if you will teach me."
"As you wish," he said and flicked his walking stick, a large leatherbound book appearing in his hand. "Read up and follow the exercises outlined in this tome. When you have questions, simply find somewhere in the open and call my name three times." He held up three fingers to illustrate. "And I will come to offer my help. I'll also be popping in every now and then to check up on you."
"Thank you, Merlin," Rapunzel said, taking the book and holding it in her arms over her chest.
"Don't thank me yet, princess," he said, though his tone was light. "There is much more to do!" With that, he swung his wand and vanished into smoke without a trace.
Belle, known since her marriage to the former Beast as "Lady" or "Mistress" Belle, brushed a lock of hair from her face as she examined one of the few remaining magical objects in the castle. The magic mirror that allowed someone to see whatever they asked to see.
What she had in mind might have been risky, but she felt drawn to do it, much as she had when she had first tried to explore the west wing during her captivity. She was glad that someone, probably Gaston, had dropped this mirror in the entry hall during the servants' battle with the villagers.
When the servants had finally revealed the full story of the curse to her, one detail had stuck in her mind: the identity of the enchantress. The woman — witch, fairy, or otherwise — who had seen fit to curse an eleven-year-old boy and an entire castle for a single slight … but had also left this mirror and a way to break the curse.
Had her husband known of her idea, he was certain that he would object. It was a good thing the servants tended to leave her be when she was reading in the parlor. It was all the privacy she needed.
"I wish to see the enchantress, please," Belle said firmly to the mirror.
The mirror flared with crackling green magic … and an image like swirling fog.
What?
Belle jumped at the sound of a thundering knock in the entrance hall. A chill ran down her spine as a terrible thought crossed her mind, but she steeled her nerves and tucked the mirror into the sash of her belt before attending. Her steps were heavy with dread as she crossed the hall to the great front doors of the castle. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
A hideous old woman stood stooped in the doorway, dressed in a hooded robe and leaning on a gnarled cane. "Oh, Milady," the woman rasped. "Might I trouble you for a bright fire to warm my bones? All I have in return," she revealed something from the folds of her robe, "is this single rose."
Belle paled as she thought furiously. There was no way this was a coincidence. It had to be the same enchantress who had cursed her husband into a beast and all the castle with him. Given that, she could not turn the woman away. Besides, had she not known what she knew … she would have welcomed an old woman in without hesitation.
"Please, come in," Belle said, offering a strained smile and stepping back to clear the way.
"Such a kind woman," the woman rasped. She shuffled in, her cane thunking upon the stone. "And very wise," she said, in a very different voice.
Like a serpent shedding its skin, the guise of an old crone fell away to reveal a tall, lovely woman whose skin glowed with ethereal light. She turned piercing, slanted eyes upon Belle, who stood frozen like a rabbit under those eyes.
"Fear not, child," the enchantress said levelly, her voice almost echoing with power. "I have not come to do you harm. You have shown wisdom in your mind and kindness in your heart. Fate brought you to your prince … and it has revealed its further will upon you."
"What do you mean?" Bella asked, holding her elbows to keep from trembling.
"Terrible forces are rising across the oceans of time," the enchantress said, and flicked the thin, almost delicate wand in her hand. In her other appeared a small volume bound in scaly hide and closed with a lock containing a key. "I have divined your scholar's heart, Lady Belle," she said. "This will explain much of what you will face in your future."
Belle took the book and examined it, and in its place in the enchantress's finger appeared a wrought iron key on a thin chain. "As for this," she said, placing the key upon the book, "it will grant you access to a hidden part of your castle's library. A tiny wing containing tomes and treatises of the mystic arts." Her delicate eyebrows lowered, her eyes glowing. "You must devote yourself to their teachings, child. For should you and your sisters-in-charms fail, all will be lost."
The enchantress looked up at the sound of a distant door closing. "Do not forsake your duty, Lady Belle," she said. "I will return for you on the fateful eve of all hallows. Until then, I bid thee farewell."
With that, she disappeared in a wash of soft light.
"Belle?" Her husband's voice, softer than when she had known him as a beast, but no less strong or beautiful to her ears, appeared at the top of the stairs. "Belle? Is everything alright?"
"Adam," she whispered, and beckoned him closer. He descended the steps and drew close, taking her arms in his hands to make way for the book and key that she held.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"There's something I need to tell you," Belle began with a soft smile tinged with apology.
Years passed as five women across the eras trained for the coming night. Soon enough, too soon, the fateful Halloween came. Mentors and patrons arrived to their students and champions to bring them to the place in space and time to do what they must to save their world.
On a tall, wide hill beyond the confines of a cobbled town in eastern Europe, the very town that Aurora had dreamt of, the air began to glimmer with motes of blue-white light. Those motes drew together and converged in a great glow that faded to reveal Cinderella and her fairy godmother.
Cinderella was dressed in a silvery white dress much like her ballgown, the bodice tight and unadorned, with a high U-neckline contrasted with a black choker, while the knee-length skirt flared with ruffles and her famous glass slippers rested on her feet. Her witch's hat was the same white, the crown decorated with artful creases and small pink flowers tucked into the band.
No sooner had they arrived and Cinderella had gotten her bearings than small bursts of red, green, and blue sparks began to appear that heralded the arrival of three other fairies dressed as noble women, bringing with them Aurora. Dressed in an elegant dark-pink gown with a low neckline styled like bare tree branches and sparkling, heeled shoes, and a pointy hat matching her dress with a large rose tucked into the band. As one watched, the dress and hat changed from pink into a rich, dark blue color before shimmering back into pink.
In rapid succession came a whirl of ethereal fog that dispersed to reveal a woman of East Asia, dressed in a dark robe and red sash, the rim of her black pointy hat laden with peach blossoms and a comb decorated with a lily — a girl in a pink bustier and broad skirt decorated with as many flowers as the brim of her matching hat, her hair shining with subtle golden light — a brunette in a golden, off-the-shoulder, low-cut gown decorated with pale rose patterns and a pointy hat to match, with the point crooked backward and a book in her hand.
With these three came a ghost of an elderly Asian woman, an old man with a long white beard, and an elegant woman with the oblique eyes of a high fae.
"Oh, you dears," the fairy godmother said to the three good fairies, "it's wonderful to see you."
"It's wonderful to see you as well, dear sister," Flora said, embracing the elder fairy. The fairy godmother was indeed Flora's elder sister, and a beloved friend to Flora's dearest companions.
"Myrddin," the enchantress greeted cooly with the barest nod of respect, using his archaic name.
"Milady sidhe," he replied, referring to the title of a high fay, then turning his attention to the ghost. "And fair greetings to you, Fa Mulan."
"Wizard," she greeted warmly, having met Merlin during his wide travels when she was alive.
"Well, now that we are all here," the fairy godmother said, "perhaps introductions are in order. After all, if these ladies are to work together to save our worlds, they must understand one another's talents." She gestured to her charge. "My dear, would you like to begin?"
"Of course," she replied and gave a small curtsey. "My name is Ella," she said, placing a hand on her chest. She giggled and added, "Though you ladies may call me Cinderella, if you like." She placed her hands together and drew them apart to reveal a slim, ivory wand very much like her godmother's. "I have a few skills I've learned, but I'm best at enchantment."
"Aurora, though I was raised as Briar Rose and rather prefer that name as a witch," the tallest of them said with a smile. "I have learned some different magics, but mostly I have honed my gift of foresight." All of the other women made appreciative noises at that, each of them very much aware that such a talent was very rare.
"Mulan," said the East Asian woman. "I'm mostly a potion mistress," Mulan said, short and to the point.
"I'm Rapunzel," the princess in pink said chipperly. "My story's really long, but the bottom line is I have sun magic that I can mostly use for healing and providing light." More appreciative sounds for another rare gift.
"And I am Belle," the last of them said. "My talents are rather generic compared to the rest of you," she added with a self-depreciating smile.
"Not with that crook to your hat," Cinderella piped up, pointing with a finger at Belle's headwear. "That's a sign of a witch scholar, a mistress of lore."
"Really?" Rapunzel asked, eyes bright with admiration. "I've read as much as I could, but Merlin never let me do that to my hat!"
"It's the same even in China," Mulan smirked. Belle blushed but couldn't help but smile.
"So what are we actually up against?" Cinderella asked.
"Yeah. All Merlin would tell me is something about darkness and dark forces and other vague, scary stuff," Rapunzel said, crossing her arms and almost pouting.
"Something truly terrible," Briar Rose said gravely. Her irises grew to fill her eyes, covering white sclera and black pupils to form endless, penetrating orbs of purple. "An ancient being of pure and utter evil, whose freedom would lead to an eternity of suffering." Her body shuddered, her solid purple eyes welling and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I see the deepest darkness, dotted by flames of sickly blue and green and orange. I hear the wails of the damned, living and dead alike." Her nose twitched. "I smell blood and brimstone, and feel the awful heat on my skin even as a voracious cold seeps into my bones, as the taste of metal coats my tongue!"
Briar Rose retched and tore herself from her vision, and the ladies rushed to surround her and hold her up.
"We're not going to let that happen," Mulan said, firmly and without a shred of doubt. "We're here to stop it."
"Just so," Belle said, looking up into the sky. "We have about three hours until sundown." She hummed and tapped a finger to her chin in thought. "Briar Rose," she said, kindly but firmly, "can you tell me when this force will attempt to break free?"
Briar Rose blinked and closed her eyes, then opened them again to reveal the pure purple from before. "When the full moon has risen, but has not reached its peak in the sky."
"So," Belle said, opening her book and consulting something, "some time between six in the evening when the full moon rises and midnight when it reaches its peak." Her voice became quieter as thoughts seemed to roll out of her without her meaning them to, conjuring a quill pen and scratching down notes.
"Strange that such a dark force would arise on a full moon, a time of illumination, as opposed to the dark and fearful new moon, but then the full moon also empowers such beasts as werewolves. Perhaps the entity itself draws power from the more sinister aspects of the moon, ones that make people more violent during the full phase? Or perhaps it has no effect at all …?"
She blinked and looked up to find the other four women looking at her with wide eyes.
"I'm sorry," Belle said, blushing again. "Sometimes I get wrapped up in my thoughts."
"Don't apologize, Belle," Briar Rose said, smiling. "That was a marvel to witness."
"Yeah, you've got your scholar stuff down," Rapunzel said.
"I think we'll need a ritual to have any actual chance at winning," Mulan said. It's the only practical way to combine so many different talents." She pursed her lips and faintly nodded, as if coming to a decision. "And while I'm confident enough in my lore," she leveled a pointing finger at Belle, "I think you should take the lead on this."
"Me?" Belle asked.
"We will all do our part," Cinderella assured her. "But the ladies are right. I think you should be guiding us on what those parts are. To make the sum greater than the pieces."
Belle looked around the circle of women of an age with her, all of them practically glowing with the innate magic that they had all clearly been honing for some time in their own places across the centuries — she had long worked out that all of them would be coming from different points in time to this one instant where they would be needed, through the unique properties of Halloween night — and, though she felt a bit on the spot … she nodded firmly.
Belle reached into a hidden pocket of her dress to reveal a small felt drawstring bag. She opened it and reached in, up to her elbow, and drew out books, bags of salt, candles, and other tools of the trade. Then she opened one of the books, the pages filled with scribblings of plans and ideas, to a blank page and began to draw. "Let's get to work, ladies," she said.
So wrapped up in their preparations, none of them noticed that their mentors and patrons had vanished. They would remain out of sight to watch and remember … but this was a time for mortal magic to win the day and protect their world.
Hours later found the good witches standing under the rising full moon within a circle of poured rock salt — a timeless, transcultural symbol of purity and the power of the earth — marked at five equidistant points between them by large lit candles of beeswax, the wicks laced with magical oil to keep from extinguishing. Each of them also held a walking stick carved from elm wood, a symbol of feminine strength, in their left hand.
Rapunzel stood furthest from the mountain against the cardinal direction of the east to represent the sun and most easily harness her magic as the foundation and backbone of their efforts. The entire ritual, as it turned out, had been decided by all five women after a long discussion to focus that very power against their enemy.
Their enemy known as … Chernabog.
Belle and Briar Rose had taken the time to explain their adversary to the best of their ability, through lore and insight. It was an exceedingly old demon, said by some to be the devil himself, that had been bound by forces unknown since time immemorial to the summit of Bald Mountain to contain its unholy power. On Walpurgis Night, Halloween, Chernabog was able to rise and spread fear and horror around the mountain, enslaving the souls of the dead and the spirits of the damned for its own sick amusement. The rising of the sun served to banish him back into his prison for another night, and therefore another year.
But tonight it had the chance to break free completely and thereafter spread that poisonous, horrific power across the face of the world, on every night. That was what these five witches had been brought together to stop.
At Rapunzel's right and left stood Belle and Mulan, whose powers were not so strong as the others but would lend the strength they had to support those in front of them. And closest to Bald Mountain were Cinderella and Briar Rose, who both had been determined to have the most raw strength out of all of them. Even supported from behind by their new sisters in charms, they would suffer the brunt of Chernabog's might, and had accepted this necessity.
The wind moaned as it passed over their hilltop, the full moon continuing its crawl into the sky. All any of the women had eaten as they prepared was salt bread and dried fruit, to combat nausea and help them maintain focus during the night. They had also sparingly drank tea provided by Mulan, a special brew of hers to help keep them awake and focused. All of them shivered as the chilly wind passed over them.
"Come on, already," Rapunzel whispered.
As if in reply, Briar Rose gasped, her eyes purpling as a vision came to her. "Prepare yourselves, ladies," she said, not shouting even as her voice carried. "The time has come."
In the distance, the witchy princesses all saw the summit of the mountain unfurl into wide, bat-like wings. Even at this distance, they could all sense the terrible gaze of the demon and it let loose a bone-chilling screech that seemed to claw at their ears. A deep shadow seemed to spread down the mountain, shaped like grasping talons, and raced to reach and destroy them in its grasp. All of the witches braced themselves upon their elm canes to stand firm and began to harness their own magics.
"Sonne, gleam and glow," Rapunzel sang, using her native German word for sun in place of "flower" that she no longer possessed, "let your power shine. Bring forth dawn from dusk and grant us light divine." As she sang this chant over and over, her short hair began to glow with streaks of gold, shimmering and flickering like flames that stretched to meet the earth as if her long, golden hair had returned. She lifted her free hand and threads of golden light snaked down her neck, shoulder, and arm to gather in her palm, the magical sunlight blazing against Chernabog's shadow.
Belle lifted a small silver mirror in her free hand, the back of it engraved with Latin inscriptions invoking the power of the moon that Belle whispered under her breath, and silvery light shone from the mirror's surface that both contrasted and complemented Rapunzel's sunlight, harnessing the positive power of the moon as a nighttime reflection of the sun.
Mulan lifted in her own free hand wrapped in a necklace of jade beads, the revered gem of her homeland that represented purity, harmony, and protection, as well as complementing Rapunzel's sun and Belle's moon with a symbol of the earth. The beads glowed with a subtle, green-blue light that mixed with the gold and silver to back it even further, chanting invocations to her ancestors in her native Chinese in a resounding voice.
Her solid purple eyes glowing with magic, Briar Rose lifted her empty, cupped hand that filled with sparks of red, green, and blue — evocative not just of her three good fairies but of the powers of Luck, Fate, and Destiny — swirling together like a tiny, multicolored galaxy. As her expression of magic sped up in its spinning, it shot off excess power like from a campfire that flared and hissed against the darkness.
And Cinderella raised her slim wand that gathered motes of light reminiscent of her godmother's magic that drew together into a single blue-white radiance that pierced and split the darkness, to make way for Rapunzel's sunlight and the magics behind it.
The salt of their circle began to glow with soft pure-white light, the candles flaring into thin columns of fire hued in gold … just in time for the shadow of Cherabog's power to rise up like a great and awful wave to fall upon them.
But none of them flinched, not one of them wavered. The witches merely braced themselves and poured more of their magic forth into the circle, their determination like a great and mighty castle against the swelling of evil.
The castle stood tall and the darkness broke upon it. The trail of the shadow gleamed with their magical light that raced along it like fire along a trail of oil in great pulses, reaching up the slopes of Bald Mountain to reach Chernabog and make it wail with agony.
It was not the only attack. All through the night, even as the magical light harmed and hampered it, Chernabog marshaled its powers to send death and destruction hurtling against the good witches as waves of darkness and sickly hellfire. All of these broke against their protections, but each attack cost them more and more strength. Chernabog summoned up through his pain the ghosts of the town below to command to attack. The ghosts wailed and crashed against the protective circle of salt, lashing and striking at the barrier to serve their master, willingly or not.
As the night wore on, the witches stood firm but against growing exhaustion. Sweat beaded their exposed skin and fell in trails, their voices growing hoarse from their endless chanting, muscles fatigued from holding their positions.
Finally, their efforts seemed to falter. Rapunzel gasped for breath, her song ended and her light flickering to fade away. Belle and Mulan grunted and wobbled as the backing of their own efforts left them, their concentrations faltering and leaving them vulnerable. Cinderella and Briar Rose screamed against the power of the demon, their own lights dimming without the support they had been built upon.
Belle and Mulan braced themselves and resumed their chants, Rapunzel attempting the same as she channeled her power in silence, but the synchronicity they had maintained was gone. Their efforts now could barely phase their enemy, and a wave of shadow knocked them down to their knees, their elm canes snapping, to leave only the barest shell of their protection against the ghosts that would pop like a soap bubble against a focused offense.
At the distant peak of Bald Mountain, Chernabog grinned maliciously at the faltering of the terrible light that had thwarted its attempts to escape on this one night in ten thousand years when the stars aligned to provide the chance. But now, it could destroy these foolish mortals and then free itself. It gathered toxic darkness within its palm, rearing to hurl it at the mortals and finish them … when the peal of a bell caught its attention.
The vile attack dissolved as Chernabog looked again at them … and at the faint but rising glow upon the horizon. The sunrise was upon the world, heralded by that church bell.
Chernabog hissed and gnashed its fangs, attempting again to summon the strength to destroy the meddlesome mortal women for their impudence, but it was too late. The rising of the immutable sun was weakening its power by the second, its efforts to thwart the witches leaving it in worse condition than any other year and unable to resist.
With a final howl of inhuman rage, Chernabog covered itself in its massive wings to shield itself from the all-seeing sun and await its fun come the next year.
"We did it?" Rapunzel asked, her voice hoarse but a smile on her lips as the crisp light of dawn slowly illuminated the hilltop.
"We did it," Belle agreed tiredly.
"It's over," Mulan said in wonder.
"We stopped it," Briar Rose marveled.
"We won the day," Cinderella sighed.
Each of the women stood and looked at each other before racing into a group hug, everyone laughing and crying and overwhelmed with triumph and relief. They all stepped back and, as one, blinked and gasped at the sight of each other. They were fading away, the oceans of time slowly washing them back to their homes as the pliance of Halloween night settled and reaffirmed.
"Will we see each other again?" Rapunzel asked.
"Maybe, and maybe not," Cinderella said.
"We may never meet again," Briar Rose said, her eyes solid purple for a split second, "but we will never forget each other."
"We are a part of each others' hearts, now," Belle agreed. "And that bond cannot be broken."
"Besides, magic can do some amazing things," Mulan said with a grin. "We may find a way to keep in touch."
All of them laughed in camaraderie and joy as they faded away, leaving only the trappings of their ritual that the locals would find and marvel at, wondering about the great golden light that had defied that Great Shadow of the peak throughout the night.
This Halloween-themed Disney Princesses story popped up in my brain and was then written on a promise to a stranger on the internet. Well, I suppose there are worse motivations, eh? Much of it is further influenced and inspired by actual folklore, an endless fascination of mine.
*This story idea originates from a Reddit post, "Disney Princess Witches" by HelloStranger96. Check it out! The art is just wonderful! Link: r/disneyprincess/comments/1fxma4w/disney_princess_witches_by_artcraawl/ All credit for the art to them; I only made up the lore.
*Aurora's gift of foresight and prophetic dreams comes straight from the song, "Once Upon A Dream." I've always wanted to use that in writing and now I finally get the chance!
*I made the Mulan figure her granddaughter, also named Mulan, because I just couldn't figure a way to make Fa Mulan a witch after her experiences as a soldier. This tied ancestor worship to the mix, as well. Granted, I couldn't find much about Chinese folk magic, but I'm working with the assumption that all human magics in this pseudo-Disney world are somewhat interrelated.
*I did some research and found that the world record for longest hair stands at about 8 feet, 5 inches. Just for reference on Merlin's explaining how fast Rapunzel's hair grew.
*The mild crossover with "Sword in the Stone" came from my difficulty finding a way to inform Rapunzel of her power and the dark threat rising up. I considered making Gothel a witch and Rapunzel and Eugene finding her notes on the matters, but that would still ignore Rapunzel's latent magic. Also, I feel Gothel was way too self-centered to put forth serious research into someone else.
*I was originally going to add several more princesses such as Merida, Tiana, Snow White, and so on. But I realized that it would only distract from the main five from the inspiring artwork … and that five princesses works well numerically with the five points of a pentacle.
*I know that it's technically not proven that people act crazier during a full moon, but ask any teacher - including myself - and we can assure you that circumstantial evidence backs it utterly!
*I will certainly admit that Belle is my favorite Disney princess, but the choice to have her as the nominal leader of the group was based on my own belief that knowledge is power, and she did indeed have the expertise to organize the witchy princesses to their most effective.
*It always seems to be my go-to for a generic doomsday evil in Disney to be Chernabog. It just makes sense, right?
*Elm wood acts as an origin for a female figure in both Scandinavian folklore (Norse myth) and a Japanese myth, hence the association with feminine strength that I kind of embellished.
*"We may never meet again, but we'll never forget each other," is pulled straight from Kingdom Hearts. It just seems like a perfect line for the end of this story.
As always, I hope it was enjoyable. Leave a review if you can. And may your own works always be fun to read and to write!