— Chapter Five —

The Prophecy

“I told you to call me Aurora!”

“Oh, right, my apologies,” Zale corrected himself.  “Aurora has arrived.”

The room was larger than the tunnels he had just led her through.  It was brighter as well, though still only lit by candles.  Either the room contained very little, or what was there simply was not visible in the darkness.

What Aurora could see was a very strange assortment of folkians, all sitting on the floor…

There was a tall, slender witch with long chestnut-brown hair.  Aurora noticed she had the same face as Zale: angular features, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a tall forehead.  She must have been his mother.  

Next to her sat a witch and warlock, both short and squat, with sandy-brown hair and freckles.  Beside them was a young boy—presumably their son, as he had the same features.  He did not look much younger than Aurora.  

Beside him were two girls.  One was fairly short, with untameable curly hair and circular glasses too large for her plain face.  She clutched four books close to her chest.  

The other girl would have been quite plain-looking as well, had she not been an elf.  Aurora noticed how, just like the slaves at the Grain Moon Ball, her long, pointed ears poked out from behind her dark-green hair.  Her face would have been rather boring had her skin not been the same colour as the Greenlands.  She gave Aurora a warm smile.

Beside the elf, there was a warlock with the face of a boy—but he was so tall he had to perpetually hunch in order to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.

Aurora was not as startled by the tall boy’s appearance as much as she was by that of the big beefy man who sat in the far corner of the room.  Like Zale, he too wore a jacket that mimicked the Greenlandian Forest.  However, unlike Zale, he wore a scowl that only grew stronger upon taking his first glance at Aurora.

“Ah, so it’s true—all the Greens really are blonde, eh?” he grunted, as he pulled a flask out of the pocket of the coat’s interior.  He took a large swig before continuing, “Least elven trait in the world.”

Zale shut the alcoholic up: “Cogsworth, please!”  

Aurora had always been aware of her family’s famous—or, in the eyes of this man, infamous—golden-blonde hair, but his comment about ‘elven traits’ had her puzzled.

Zale turned back to face her.  “Welcome, Aurora, to the Lunar Coven.”

So this was the society her parents had kept secret from her.  These folks did not look as harmful and menacing as the maids made them out to be.  They seemed much more approachable than the folk she knew (except perhaps Miss Alice).

However, they were clearly very, very poor, for, just as Zale was, they were wearing tattered old rags, and by the exhausted looks on their pale faces, Aurora could tell they were even more malnourished than the capital peasants.

The runaway princess felt silly in her black dress, even though it was not a quarter as glamorous as the lavish gowns she was usually forced to wear.  Despite what Zale had said about them praising her, she was nervous about meeting the rebels.  Would they not loathe her?  After all, she had lived in a luxurious castle, worn glamorous clothing, and eaten decadent meals. 

But Zale’s claim about her being so admired was proven true.  It was not just the elven girl grinning at her.  Everyone—everyone except the alcoholic—was thrilled to see Princess Aurora:

“At last!” cried the sandy-brown-haired woman, hugging the folk with matching appearances.

“I know, Elaine, I know,” agreed the man who was presumably her husband.  “The day has finally come!”

“Is this really the princess, Mum?” their son gawked, as though Aurora could not hear him.

The two girls sitting on the floor stared in awe.  While the elven girl giggled nervously at the sight of Aurora, the girl with glasses much too large for her face got to work.  Aurora watched her pull a long quill and a bottle of ink out of her dress pocket.

“Fascinating!  Fascinating!” she commented, as she opened one of her books and jotted something down.

“I just can’t believe Princess Aurora is finally with us,” the elven girl said.

Aurora noticed that the boy who was so tall that he had to perpetually hunch had turned slightly pink.

The alcoholic grunted, then opened his mouth as though he was going to make another nasty retort but was interrupted: 

“Yes.”  It was a smooth voice, travelling from behind the crowd of rebels.  “Yes, Princess Aurora has made her arrival.”  

When the speaker made herself visible in the dim candlelight, Aurora could not stop herself from staring.  A voice so smooth, the princess had expected someone young and fair—but instead the speaker was nothing more than a hag!

’Twas a short elderly witch, with silver hair extending past her bottom.  She had a stout, plump figure, but a large hooked nose and a long chin.  She wore a midnight blue gown, embroidered with silver Stars and moons.  And on her head sat a black witch’s hat; it looked as though it had once belonged to a witch of Old-Camelot!

The crone’s skin was very weathered.  Her face was plagued with all kinds of lines—although unlike Zale’s, indeed they looked timely.  But the most interesting feature about the hag was her eyes: not only were they a striking shade of silver, but her glare was so piercing that Aurora did not feel comfortable looking at her directly.

The crone took a few strides towards the newcomer.  “Princess Aurora,” she spoke, giving a low bow, “my name is Zelena Noir.  How do you do?”

No words came to Aurora.

Instead, she pulled the ebony wand out of her boot.  The crone-faced moon embellishment… the hag…  There was an eery resemblance between the faces.

“I’d drop the word ‘Princess’,” Zale informed Zelena, in a tone conveying his high respect for the crone.

“Forgive me,” Zelena apologised.  “You do not prefer the formal title?”

“Just seems strange is all,” Aurora answered earnestly.  “I mean, I was kidnapped, and yet you refer to me as ‘Princess’.”

“Ya came here voluntarily in the end,” Zale reminded her.

“Yes, that is splendid!” Zelena concluded.

The rest of the room (all except Cogsworth) broke out in merry chit-chat about the runaway princess:

“By the divine!  I am so, so incredibly happy to hear that!” the plump, sandy-brown-haired woman cried.

“Me as well, Elaine!  Me as well!” the woman with the long chestnut-brown hair agreed.  “It fills my heart with such joy to know the Chosen One wants to save us!”

Aurora had to make it known that she was not going to aid them in their evil schemes:

“Well, I’m not here to join you, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you might as well just release me now!”

“Dear child, what else could you have possibly come for?” the crone asked.

“An explanation.”

“My sweet girl, whatever do you need an explanation for?”

Aurora could not tell if the crone was trying to anger her, or if she was just daft in her old age.  

“Well, we can start with this wand,” Aurora said, still holding it in her hand.

“Ah, yes, the ebony wand.”

“I want to know why you sent it, and why you have been tracking me.” Aurora demanded.  “I want to know why this kind of wand is so hated and so feared.  And I want to know why a wand so hated and so feared is the wand that finally allowed me to attain access to my powers.”

“Ya know why that wand did the trick for ya,” Zale argued.  “Already told ya.”

The leader turned to face her servant.  “What else have you told the girl, Zale?”

“‘Bout Sola being a fraud.”

“Which I’m still not sure I believe,” Aurora added.  “I’ll need proof if you want me to believe something like that.”

“Proof?” Cogsworth scoffed, standing up now.  He began taking strides towards Aurora.  “What proof do ya need?  Has ‘Emperor Sola’”—he said the name in a mocking tone as he leered over her—“given ya any proof of the prophecy that yer entire life revolves around?”

“No, of course not,” Aurora answered boldly.  “No one, no one except the emperor or the empress, is allowed to view a prophecy from the Cosmos.”

This triggered Cogsworth: “What a load of utter nonsense!  Yer a useless, spineless, brainless, pathetic girl!  How do ya go around in this corrupt world without questioning anything?!”

Aurora wanted to inform him that she questioned the ways of the world so often she routinely suffered for it.

Before she could make her retort however, Zelena interjected, “Now, Cogsworth, there is no need to scare the poor girl.  I imagine she must be very frightened, being so far away from the castle and all…”

“I am not afraid!” Aurora insisted, even though it was a lie.  “I came here by choice—just as Zale said.”

“Yah, and she chose to save me!” Zale added.

“Save ya?” Cogsworth questioned.  “How in all of the Cosmos could she have saved ya?  She’s practically a mundane!”

“She’s not,” Zale argued.  “She can do magic, and ya know that.  We’ve been tracking her.”

Aurora hated being talked about in this manner, as though she weren’t there.

“Well then, how did she save ya?” Cogsworth asked.

“We were being chased by castle guards.  She cast a spell to make herself invisible.  At first, it didn’t work on me, just her.”

“Doesn’t sound like she saved ya at all, ya silly boy!”

“Shut up, Cogsworth!  I haven’t finished the story!”  

Zale took a moment to gather himself before continuing: “Anyway, I offered to let her down on a tree branch, told her she was best off saving herself.  But she wouldn’t have that.  Demanded that I let her try using the glamour on me again.  Eventually she got it working, and we escaped.  Guards didn’t see us ’cause we were invisible.  They flew off, and we made our way back here.”

The rebel folk were very impressed: 

“Cosmos!  She is certainly becoming quite a skilled witch,” the sandy-haired woman said.

“And not just that—she’s got it in her—what it takes to become a hero!” the girl with curly hair and glasses too large for her face confirmed.  “The Cosmos is with her, indeed.”

“She must be the one!” the sandy-haired boy and the elven girl cried in unison.

But Aurora was still hung up on Elaine’s first comment.  “Witch?  I am a sorceress, not a witch!”

Cogsworth, however, was not impressed.  “See?  Calls herself ‘sorceress’—I don’t trust her.  She’s one of their lot.  Ya really think it’s a good idea to let one of them into our home?  No, we’re best left on our own.”

“But Cogsworth,” the sandy-haired woman spoke, “without her, we will never attain full access to our powers again.  Ya saw the prophecy!”

“The real prophecy!” Cogsworth added.  Then he pointed a sausage-like finger at Aurora.  “Not that ruddy nonsense yer foul emperor made up due to his own greed and selfishness.”

“Cogsworth!” Zale scolded.

With the least amount of effort, Zelena shut down the alcoholic: “Aurora is, indeed, the one, the one to save us all.”

Then she turned to the princess.  “Tell me, dear, have you not always felt different from your parents?  Have you not always longed for a place you would fit in?  Have you not always felt as though you had a greater purpose far beyond being a pawn in their game of power?”

The crone was correct, but Aurora was not going to surrender easily.  “I already have a place I fit in: the forest.”

“Yah, we know,” Zale said, with his crooked smile.

“But how do you know that?  I know you’ve been tracking me with the ebony wand, but I’ve only had it a few days, and you must have known about my visits to the woods prior because that’s where you—well, that’s where you sent Zale to watch me!  That’s where you sent him to give me the ebony wand.  I knew someone was there in the woods that night!  I could hear him moving through the bushes.”

“Yah, I was sent to give ya the ebony wand,” Zale confirmed.

“And we were damn irritated when ya ran off with the wand instead of trying it out,” Cogsworth growled.

“I had tried hundreds of wands that day,” Aurora justified.  “Why would I expect that one to work?”

“But do you know why this wand works?” Zelena quizzed.

“I think so.”

“And what is the reason?”

It was frustrating, Zelena asking her this; should the crone not explain it to the Mundane Princess instead?  

Aurora reiterated Zale’s explanation.

The crone nodded.  “And how does that resonate with you?”

“Uh, well, it does make sense.  I’ve never felt as though I belong in my parents’ world, not once.  I’ve always had to push aside who I am to accommodate what they expect of me.  Honestly, I hate magic.”  Aurora paused a moment before adding, “Well, kind of.  I hated it right up until I did it myself.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Zale hummed.  “Casting spells…”

“And that’s exactly why a foul idiot like Sola would abuse his fame and forge a prophecy, claiming it was from the Cosmos!” Cogsworth bellowed.  His face turned as red as a radish as he guzzled what was left in his flask.

“I’ve noticed you are drinking again, Cogsworth,” Zelena commented disapprovingly.

Cogsworth ignored her.  He exited the room through a door opposite to the one Aurora and Zale had entered from.  

“Ah, don’t mind him,” said Zelena.  “He has been rendered a little mad from it all.”

“Ya know, he’s right,” Zale spoke.  “That is why folk do it, isn’t it?  It feels so good they forget about what’s really important, lose sight of the bigger picture—all for power!  Aren’t we just as bad as the monarchy?” 

Aurora could have sworn Zale had tears in his eyes, but because the coven was so dim, she could not tell for certain. 

“What if we’re just as bad as Sola and the other rulers?” he quaked.

Before Zale could say any more, Aurora cut him off: “No!  You are not as bad as the monarchy.  You can’t be.”  

Of course, Aurora did not know what she was saying.  The true intentions of this rebel coven had yet to be revealed.  Was it not just earlier that day she had been furious at her parents for suspecting she was secretly one of them?

All of the coven was giving the princess a curious look, as though waiting for her to dedicate her loyalty to them.

Nervously, she added: “But I will have to see proof of the prophecy you speak of before I stand behind any of the claims you are making.”

“And will that be enough?” asked Zale, hope in his voice.

“E—enough for?” Aurora knew what he had meant, but still wanted to approach the situation with prudence.  She didn’t know what she might be getting herself into.

The warlock’s crooked smile crept further up the left side of his face.  “For ya to join us?” 

Joining this rebel coven was more desirable than returning to the castle.  But Aurora was not this ‘Chosen One’ the rebels were seeking.  She had only just started her magical practice, and would not be of any help to them in whatever it was they were trying to accomplish.  Besides, her place was in the woods, not underground.

Still, this prophecy the rebels spoke of… ‘the real prophecy’…  Perhaps it would explain the madness of the last few days’ events, why her parents had kept the existence of the rebels from her.  Aurora was so very hungry for any information. 

“Can I, uh, see the prophecy?”  It came out fast and mumbly—was this an appropriate thing to ask for?

Apparently not, for Zelena was reluctant.

But then the crone gave a heavy sigh and agreed, “Follow me, Aurora.  Zale, you come too.”

“Can I go, Mum?” the sandy-haired boy asked.

“Cosmos, no, dear!” his mother forbade him.

The crone led Aurora through the same door from which Cogsworth left.  Aurora dreaded seeing the drunk again.  However, once Zale shut the door behind them, even with the light of his lantern, there was only blackness—another long, narrow tunnel.

Zale took Aurora’s hand again.  Zelena couldn’t see this in the darkness—or so Aurora hoped.

How do these folks live this way?  There was not a chance in Old-Camelot that she could ever give up her forest’s fresh air and beautiful greenery.  And she would have spoken her mind on the matter, had she been alone with Zale.  But something about Zelena’s silver stare had rendered Aurora quiet.

Zelena led the princess through the tunnel until they reached an adjoining stairway.  Thankfully, Zale pointed it out, otherwise Aurora wouldn’t have seen it in the darkness and tripped.

Once down the stairway, they moved through another tunnel.  The musty odour only worsened.  Aurora shivered in the cold.  

Do these corridors go on and on forever? Aurora wondered.  Is the crone leading me right into the Underworld?  Have I just consented to my own foolish demise? 

Eventually, they found themselves at the end.  Although it was so dark, Zale’s lantern had to be mere inches away from the next door in order for Aurora to see it.

Zelena rummaged through the pocket of her celestial gown.  Eventually she found it: a long, rusty key.  

It’s peculiar—why don’t they use magic to lock their doors?  That’s how my parents do things.  

But the wicked old witch acted as though she was a mundane, inserting the key into the hole, giving it a turn, and opening the door.

“Welcome to my study, Aurora!”  And Zelena led them inside.

The room, despite being about a hundred feet underground, did not look like the rest of their dingy hideout.  The floor was made of amethyst.  There were shelves upon shelves of books, cases of magical tools for whatever need you might have, and even a luxurious four-poster bed, complete with a silver canopy.  Beside a desk stood an altar, and it had been decorated for the Grain Moon.  The Summer roses that adorned the altar helped cover up the musty smell.

The most magical thing of all, however, was the ceiling: matching Zelena’s celestial attire, it had been charmed to mimic the night sky.  The glowing Stars lit not only the midnight blue background but the rest of the room as well, and in the centre, above a round wooden table, a massive waning gibbous moon shined brightest of all.

Zelena gestured towards the round table in the middle.  “Please, sit.”

Aurora found a seat under the moon.  It was then that she noticed a little door in the far left corner.

Zelena was still standing.  “I’ll give you a minute to get settled for what you are about to see.  I must warn you that you will be saying goodbye to your childhood.  Do know that you will not see the world the same way.”

Aurora removed her empty satchel from her waist and placed it on the ground beneath her.  Assuming what Zelena had said was true, Aurora wished the old hag would hurry up about it.  She had been waiting to say goodbye to her childhood for as long as she could remember—she just didn’t want to have to marry Prince Daniel in order to do so. 

Zelena made her way over to the altar and picked up a large piece of amethyst in the shape of a crescent moon. 

“That’s the prophecy?” Aurora asked.

The elderly woman said nothing, however.  Instead, she pulled her wand out of her gown. 

It did not surprise Aurora that hers too was made of ebony and had a little crone-faced moon embellishment on the bottom—just as it hadn’t surprised her that the face at the bottom of the ebony wand resembled Zelena herself.

Zelena pointed the wand at the moon-shaped amethyst.  Then, drawing the piece of ebony backward, from out of the crystal, she derived a glowing purple liquid.  

“Quick, Zale, bring the teacup,” the crone ordered her servant.

Zale rushed over to a tall cabinet of dark stained wood and returned with a beautiful teacup.  Aurora had not thought she would see anything like this here in the rebel hideout.  The thing was porcelain and adorned with little Stars.  It looked like something Aurora would have drank out of back at the castle.  

Using her wand to direct the shimmering purple liquid, the old hag transported the material into the teacup.  Zale passed the cup to Aurora.

Aurora sat there for a moment with the sparkling purple matter, unsure of what to do.

“Ya gotta drink it,” Zale instructed.

“Do I really have to?” Aurora protested.  

But then she thought, Wait—why am I arguing?  Is this not what I came all the way down here to do?  

Zale was in shock.  “Blimey, have ya really never looked at a prophecy before?  I mean, maybe yer lot has another way of doing this.”

“I told you: no one’s allowed to look at prophecies except the emperor and the empress.  I don’t even know if I should be looking at this one.  Is it not highly dangerous?”

“Oh, hang it all!  ’Course, Sola made up some nonsensical rule like that!  Prevents ya from demanding proof!”

“Now, Zale,” Zelena began, “we know Sola will not hesitate to perform immoral acts in order to maintain his control of the citizens.  Let us not distress the poor girl before she sees what she is about to see.”

“Is it not dangerous then?” Aurora asked.

Zelena spoke with a soothing tone, but the words that came out of her mouth did not soothe Aurora at all: “My dear girl, of course it’s dangerous!  It’s dangerous for any mortal to look at a prophecy, even Sola.  Remember, I informed you that you would be bidding farewell to your childhood…”

Zale nodded in agreement, but that was not what Aurora was worried about.

“Does it taste bad?” she questioned, swishing the sparkly purple goop around in the teacup.

“Not from amethyst,” said Zale.  “Tastes divine to me.  But everyone’s different.  I for one cannot stand the taste of prophecies stored in rose quartz.”

Aurora took one last look at the sparkling liquid and then, as quickly as possible, she poured it down her throat.  

As soon as the liquid was gone, however, she wished she had savoured the drink.  Zale was right; it did taste like heaven!  It had been a very sweet syrup, of lavender flavour.

But she did not have time to report back to the other two about its delicious flavour, because in a split second, the prophecy began…

A flood of purple light, blindingly bright.  Aurora shut her eyes.  Doing so did nothing, however; the same vision played, eyes open or closed.  She called for help, but her efforts were all in vain, as she no longer had control over her mouth.  This was some kind of terrible lucid dream from which she could not wake up.

Out of nowhere, a godly voice spoke: “The phantom of the past…”

A man appeared in the distance.  He was walking toward Aurora.  Once he got close enough, she recognised him: Emperor Sola!  Young Emperor Sola.  

He was once attractive.  Not yet turning golden, his hair was ebony-black like Prince Daniel’s.  Aurora was not surprised to see Emperor Sola wearing that charismatic Imperial smile however many Suns ago.

Nearly thirteen Suns, Aurora realised, as countless folkians queued up to her right.  One at a time, each folkian walked up to Emperor Sola and surrendered their wand.  Then Emperor Sola, holding two wands—both the wand of the peasant and his own—waved them around.  And just as Zelena had with the moon-shaped amethyst, he pulled a substance out of the folkian.

From person to person, it varied.  Some had a gold dust derived from them; some had a red flame pulled from them; some a pink glitter; some a metallic silver liquid; some smoke in the shape of an animal; some a brown cloud of dust—no two individuals’ powers looked quite the same. 

That was what he was deriving, their powers.  And sure enough, after he pulled the powers out of each peasant, still using his own wand, Emperor Sola transported the magic into the moat surrounding the Solar Kingdom.  Upon doing this, the moat grew more colourful and sparkly.  Meanwhile, each of the peasants walked off looking rather ill—their faces a pale but greenish white colour, a half-dead look in their eyes, like zombies.

With each individual’s powers drained, Emperor Sola’s wand grew bigger and bigger, until eventually, when all the peasants had been robbed, he was left with the staff of a sorcerer—the same golden staff he had carried in the sacred gardens and at the Grain Moon Ball, complete with the golden Sun embellishment at the top.  

Beaming now, he waved his new staff around in the air.  He shot it straight up at the Sun and drew its light down towards him.  The strength of the Sunlight was so bright it overpowered the purple light, and everything became a blinding shade of gold.

Aurora tried calling to Zale for help but was catatonic still.

The godly voice spoke again: “The injustice of the present…”

Horrible visions came:  Peasants in the fields, working themselves to death.  Mundanes accused of practising magic—their trials far worse than anything Aurora had ever imagined.  Innocent folk were being drowned, stoned, and burned alive—this was the fate of any peasant accused of using the Craft, guilty or not.  And this was done under the premise that if the suspect was still magical, they would use their power to save themselves and be caught in the act.

Aurora was sick knowing she had played a part in this, just being born a princess.  These laws made no sense: the only way to prove to the empire that one was truly a mundane, was to die—just like Old-Camelot!  Why are we reliving the oppressive ways of our past?  Did we not flee planet Earth to escape such horrors?  To escape such injustices…

The godly voice spoke again: “The last hope for New-Camelot…” 

And with that notion, everything went black.  For a moment, it seemed Aurora was back underground in Zelena’s study, but not yet.

What happened next was surreal.  Aurora saw herself.  Being led through the cave by Zale, going through the even darker tunnels, entering the hideout, talking with the rebel coven.  It was as though she had travelled back in time an hour and was watching things through the eyes of a spider on the wall.  She even saw herself in Zelena’s study, nodding off in the chair she was, presumably, still sitting in; it looked as though she had overdosed on oil of poppy!  

And the crone and the warlock just sat there, staring at her pensively.

Once more did the godly voice sound: “The initial light of the Lunar Revolution…”

Golden light flashed.  Aurora’s figure appeared again, now resting on the golden Sun—actually, it was as though she was the Sun, rays beaming from every limb.  So hot, so bright… would Aurora be burned to soot?

But the light of the Sun dimmed; its figure faded.  What replaced it was a silver light.  The only constant was Aurora, now resting on not the Sun, but the moon.

The silver moonlight, not nearly as bright as the Sunlight, allowed Aurora to discern the setting of the vision: Eventide, in what looked like the Greenlandian Forest.

Aurora watched the vision of herself hop off the moon.  She did not tumble to her death; instead, she made a graceful landing in the grass of a meadow.

The meadow was adorned with the most beautiful, vibrant wildflowers Aurora had ever seen.  Just as she had when visiting her animal friends, Aurora watched the vision of herself pick a dozen or so and weave them into a beautiful crown, which she placed on her head.  The sight was relieving for the real Aurora, who had grown sick with longing for the Greenlands the moment she had set foot in the cave.

But she couldn’t really bask in the beauty of the Earth, for all too soon the vision of herself stood up and started to run.  She arrived at a creek.  The water twinkled in the moonlight as it trickled downward through the valley.  No hesitation—she dived right in.  Another pleasant sight for the real Aurora, who craved her swim in Secret Lake.

A few moments underwater and the vision of herself returned to the surface.  She pulled herself up onto the bank of the creek and gazed into the shimmery water, staring pensively at her reflection.  A single tear ran down her face.

Then she stood up and continued her journey.  Through the trees, she sprinted, until she arrived at another clearing, in which there was a bonfire.  But this was no ordinary bonfire; instead of standard logs, entire tree trunks had been used.  Indeed, the flames were so tall, this bonfire must have been made not by common folkians, but by giants.

She began walking toward the fire.  Why am I not stopping? the real Aurora panicked, as the vision of herself got closer and closer to the dancing flames.  The fire crackled, as though enticing her, luring her in.  The real Aurora watched, horror-struck, as the vision of herself walked directly through the flames.  But she was not burned to ash; she came out on the other side completely unharmed.

She did not continue to run through the woods.  Instead, she pulled her ebony wand out of her boot, shot it up into the air and yelled something unclear.  Loyally, the ebony broom came whizzing toward her.  She climbed on and flew high in the air, so high she was up in the clouds.  

The real Aurora watched, again frightened, as the vision of herself jumped off the broom.  She did not fall to her death, however.  Instead, she landed on top of the clouds, with as much grace as she had when she landed in the meadow.  Then she began hopping from cloud to cloud.  The real Aurora had to admit this seemed quite fun!

When the vision of herself landed on a particularly large cloud, she stopped.  She began to sing a song.  Just like the magic word she had used to conjure the ebony broom, the song was muffled.  The real Aurora couldn’t make out the poetry, but she had a strange feeling she had sung the song before.  

After finishing, the vision of herself turned back to the faithful ebony broom, which was hovering by the cloud, waiting.  She climbed aboard yet again.  Hands in the air, she did a couple of loop-the-loops.  It was obvious that the vision of herself was quite satisfied—no, euphoric.

And, mad as it was, the real Aurora shared this feeling.  It felt good to watch herself connect with Earth, Water, Fire, and Air—to watch herself connect with magic.

As the vision of herself made a return trip, back to the moon, the real Aurora felt as though she must be the most powerful sorceress in all of New-Camelot.  What a feeling for the Mundane Princess!  The vision had initially been horrible, maybe even traumatic—but now she hoped to never wake, to never return to the mortal world.  

But just as she was longing for this, like a wet painting, the colours started to run.  Everything grew blurry, and the vision melted away.  

Only blackness remained.

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