Chapter Text
✧✧✧
With the Lantern Festival over, there was a six-week period before Rapunzel had to worry about hosting any kind of festival or celebration. And though the next celebration, at the end of June, would be Eugene’s birthday, she was glad to put off thinking about it for a little while longer, with everything else she had to deal with running a kingdom that was recovering from a major and prolonged disaster.
The sounds of hammers were ringing through the city as restoration projects went into full swing. The enormous hole in the courtyard was filled in and paved over. Cartloads of dark, moist soil were transported from the mainland and spread out over the gardens and lawns of the castle grounds, while the claylike dead topsoil was carted away. The castle pantries, which had been getting low on food, were slowly restocked with crops from the mainland and with wares from the ships that sailed into port from all across the Seven Kingdoms.
Life in the castle settled back into a new normal, with Rapunzel as the hub around which it all spun, in her role as acting queen.
Her parents continued to be obliging, deferring to her rule, to her endless relief. And though Eugene made it clear he didn’t entirely trust the king (“I think he’s up to something, Blondie”), Rapunzel saw no evidence that her father was interested in taking back power now that the kingdom was safe, beyond a few suggestions here and there, an opinion that Nigel shared.
“Though that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stay alert,” the royal advisor added, and Eugene agreed vehemently.
But there were plenty of other things to keep a watch out for, more immediate threats, some more along the lines of nuisances, but some actively dangerous.
There were several more attempts at stealing the Moonstone, with one determined thief managing to break into Cassandra’s room through the window, ostensibly to threaten the whereabouts of the Moonstone from her. At the sound of a scuffle, the guards rushed into the room to find the man pinned face down on a throw rug, his arm twisted behind his back and Cassandra’s knee pressing on his spine as she calmly explained to him that she had no idea where the Moonstone was.
In another attempt, a girl far too young to be involved in such an ambitious heist was caught trying to infiltrate Mrs. Crowley’s maids, while her accomplice, an older woman, didn’t even make it into the castle, being immediately identified by the girl and arrested in the main courtyard.
So that was a huge headache for Eugene, who was less than pleased with the whole situation. He spent long hours in the war room with Lawrence, identifying and tightening weak points in their security, and going over duty rosters.
Rapunzel, on the other hand, was dealing with random eruptions of black rocks around the kingdom. There weren’t many of them, but there were enough to frighten her citizens, who were naturally wary of the dark protuberances. And it worried her too, as there was always the potential of someone getting hurt. A unit of guards was deployed to the mainland with the amber gun to deal with the black rocks there, while Rapunzel personally dealt with the ones that erupted within the island city, in order to reassure her people that everything was under control and soon the black rocks would be gone for good.
And then there were the sick. It started with only a few people at first—parents bringing in an ill child, a man bringing in his debilitated mother, another man, young but sickly, limping into the throne hall, all asking for help, for the healing magic of the Sundrop. Of course she obliged them all, how could she turn away someone in need? But she began to worry that this was just the beginning, that word was spreading, and soon she would be inundated with pleas for help from all over Corona—from all over the Seven Kingdoms—from all over the world.
And that was when she really began to wonder—would it be wrong to unite the Celestial Stones and remove the healing magic of the Sundrop from the world?
The question had weighed heavily on her mind since the first patient had arrived and asked for her aid, and she must have spoken it out loud that particular evening, a mere week after the Lantern Festival, because the question was immediately answered for her by a chorus of strident voices.
“Of course not, Sunshine!”
“Absolutely not, Princess!”
“Why would you even say that, have you lost it?”
“What about the Moonstone?”
Rapunzel turned back from where she was gazing out through the balcony door, to look to where the speakers—Eugene, Lance, Kiera, and Catalina—were staring at her, expressions ranging from concern to shock to outrage, clustered around the parlor table in the sitting room of Varian’s suite.
“It can do so much good,” Rapunzel intoned fervently as she moved toward the group, clasping her hands at her waist. “Just today, I helped this little boy, just a baby. Now he’ll have a chance to grow up. A chance he wouldn’t have had without the Sundrop.”
“That’s all very well and good, Princess,” Cassandra sighed, leaning her cheek against the palm of her hand, her elbow resting on the armrest of the enormous wingback chair she was occupying like a throne, “but why don’t you answer the kid’s question?”
Rapunzel blinked at Cassandra. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to approach her former handmaid, and elated as she was whenever the woman agreed to join them in the evenings, she felt herself keeping an emotional distance from the other, afraid of hurting her, of hurting herself.
She tried to remember what had been asked and by which kid, and she turned her attention to where the kids were seated, conveniently all in a row on the settee—Kiera, slouched against the armrest; Varian, in the middle, taking a careful sip from the mug in his hands as his eyes darted between Rapunzel and Cassandra; and Catalina, on the other end of the settee, leaning forward anxiously, her hands gripping her knees.
“You mean, have I lost it?” Rapunzel finally asked. “I don’t think so—”
“No, the other question,” Cassandra interjected with the very mildest of eyerolls. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing to save lives, but what about the Moonstone?”
“I told you before, Blondie, you can’t keep the Sundrop.” Eugene had pushed himself up from his own chair, crossing the distance to place his hands gently on her upper arms. “I know it’s been a part of you for so long—”
“That’s not the issue,” she interrupted, tears welling in her eyes. “You didn’t see that little boy today, he was so sick! And there have been so many of them, all needing help. Help I could give.” She sank gratefully, wearily, into his arms as he pulled her against his comforting heartbeat.
“It’s too much power for one human being, the power of life and death,” Lance muttered, an unusually serious tone in his voice. “And what happens when some megalomaniac tyrant decides they want that power for themselves, to live forever? They’ll come for you, Princess. It could lead to war!”
“Rapunzel,” Cassandra began, and there was a growl in her voice, a warning, “for once in your life, listen to those around you! You have to neutralize the Moonstone with the Sundrop, there’s no other option! Otherwise, why did I even surrender the Moonstone to you? I could have—”
“Cass,” Eugene interrupted angrily, hugging Rapunzel more tightly, “she knows that, she won’t—”
There was a loud bang as a mug was brought down hard on top of the spindly parlor table, and all eyes turned to where Varian was pushing himself to his feet. “Enough,” he said, sounding more weary than upset, his gaze sweeping past the others in the room before finally settling on the princess. “Rapunzel, I know you mean well. But keeping the Sundrop will do far more harm than it could ever do good.”
“But—”
“The Celestial Stones are out of balance. They’re seeking each other. That hasn’t changed just because you learned how to control the Sundrop!” He sidled sideways, stepping past Catalina to move around the parlor table and toward where she was standing, still with Eugene’s arm around her.
He stopped directly in front of her, his eyes imploring, his hands curled passionately against his chest. “New black rocks have been erupting all around town. And that’s going to keep happening more and more, here and across the Seven Kingdoms, until the Celestial Stones are reunited! They have to be brought together if we’re ever to have peace!”
Rapunzel took a deep breath as she processed the information. “You’re saying that if I keep the Sundrop, it will hurt more people than it helps.”
He nodded vigorously. “I won’t pretend I’m not grateful that you had your healing powers when you saved Pete, when you saved me. But it’s borrowed power and it has to be returned, or the consequences will be severe!”
Across the room, Rapunzel thought she saw Cassandra wince and stare down into her lap, placing one hand tentatively atop the other, covering the hand that had been injured by the Decay Incantation. She wondered if the wound still bothered Cass, even after it had been healed, or if the gesture was a habit, an affectation.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Rapunzel sighed as she slumped against Eugene.
“Sunshine?” her fiancé asked worriedly, tightening his grasp on her shoulders. It felt like the whole room was watching her, holding their collective breaths.
“I don’t want to keep it,” she gasped, relief flowing through her. “I don’t want to be tethered to the Sundrop for the rest of my life, afraid that if I go anywhere, someone won’t get the help they need! I don’t want the power of life and death! I just want to be normal—or as normal as I can be, as a princess. But I was beginning to think I would have to—that it would be selfish of me not to keep it, not to use it to save lives.”
“No, not selfish at all,” Varian urged as he stepped closer, his tone earnest. “I can give you proof if you want, it’s all there in the Demanitus Book. Keeping the Sundrop will only lead to disaster.” His hands dropped to his sides, his expression falling. “I’m sorry, this is my fault, I’m taking too long. But the portal will be ready tomorrow and we’ll be rid of Zhan Tiri. Then I’ll be able to work on the Unification Machine—”
Rapunzel and Eugene both moved as one, swooping forward to wrap Varian in an embrace between them and cut off the stream of apologies that likely would have continued for some time.
“You’re doing amazing work, Goggles,” Eugene stated, one hand placed affectionately at the juncture of the boy’s neck and shoulder, “so don’t even try any of that nonsense with me.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Rapunzel murmured, her own arm around Varian’s shoulders as she leaned the side of her head against his. “I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured. And of course you’re right about the Celestial Stones. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured happily, “you’re under a lot of pressure too.” His expression was so open, so trusting, the shadow of wariness that had been there for so long at last gone, banished by an evening spent in each other’s company under the glow of a thousand lanterns. She smiled at him, at the memory, and pulled him more tightly into a hug. Eugene wrapped his arms around them both and they leaned into each other, warmth pooling between them.
“So that’s settled then? No more nonsense about keeping the Sundrop?”
Their embrace loosened at the tense words, the three of them stepping apart to turn to Cassandra.
“No more nonsense,” Rapunzel promised. “I’m so sorry, Cassandra. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Cassandra shrugged in response, leaning back against the chair nonchalantly, but Rapunzel could tell she was still irritated, still nervous, and the princess felt that familiar surge of guilt.
“Hey, at least you can keep healing people until the machine is ready,” Catalina volunteered.
“That’s true,” Rapunzel agreed, feeling like a burden had been lifted from her. Though she would be sad to lose the Sundrop, she couldn’t deny that being free of it, of having one less responsibility weighing her down, would be its own blessing. And with the removal of the Sundrop, the Moonstone and all its destructive powers would be purged from the world.
Of course they couldn’t keep the Moonstone. It had blighted the Dark Kingdom, it would likely do the same to Corona with time…
“Aw, that means there will be no more weirdos trying to break into the castle to steal the Moonstone,” Kiera griped. “They’re so funny.”
“Yes, hilarious, especially when they wake you up in the middle of the night with their ridiculous demands,” Cassandra sniped, glaring toward Eugene.
“Hey, I’m sorry about that, my men are doing their best—”
“Don’t worry, everyone,” Rapunzel interrupted, holding her hands out. “As Varian said, the portal will be ready tomorrow. I don’t know about you all, but I’ll sleep better knowing Zhan Tiri is no longer in our dimension.” There was a murmur of agreement all around her. “And then, it’s only a matter of time before our favorite alchemist will have the Unification Machine ready to go, and we won’t have to worry about Moonstone thieves anymore!”
She realized the moment she said it that she had worded the sentiment clumsily, and she turned toward Cassandra, hands raised placatingly. “Not you, of course—I’m not worried about you. I mean, yes, I worry about you, but I wasn’t talking about you, just now—”
“It’s fine, Raps,” and for the first time that evening, Cassandra looked more amused than anything else. “I know what you meant.”
“Oh. Good.” Rapunzel smiled at the woman who should have been her sister, and was relieved when she smiled back.
“And there’s no rush,” Eugene said soothingly, and Rapunzel turned around to see him with both hands resting on Varian’s shoulders, smiling down at him. “You take your time, okay, kiddo?”
“Yeah, okay,” Varian answered with the very slightest of sighs.
The rest of the evening progressed smoothly, though Rapunzel was mostly silent, allowing for the others to talk as she listened, her fingers brushing softly against the oval stone on her chest. It would be strange to be without it, but she had been without it for a short time before, when Zhan Tiri had stolen it from her and claimed it for her own. She would survive without the Sundrop, she knew that much.
But there would still be the shard inside her. Or would there? Would the reunification of the Celestial Stones have any effect on the shard—on her?
She could ask Varian what he thought about it, and perhaps she would, but not yet. She didn’t want to give him anything else to worry about. Across from her, Varian looked tired, slouching against the thick cushions of the settee’s backrest.
There would be time enough to worry about all of that later. For now, there were other things to deal with—the portal, running a kingdom, her parents, the upcoming trial…
There would be tomorrow, or the day after, to ask questions. For now, she would lean back in the chair she was sharing with Eugene and enjoy the company of her friends.
✧✧✧
Cassandra was ready to put it all behind her, the past year and however many months since she had lost her way, strayed from the beaten path, taken a wrong turn, gotten lost in the woods. With every day that passed it felt more and more unreal, the horrible things she had done.
Had she really cut Eugene’s throat? Had that been her, threatening to kill a man she had considered a friend? Had she used mind control on Alvred the Dark Scholar, and the Brotherhood as well? Had she attacked her own home, her own father, her own friends, all out of a misplaced sense of grievance?
She had spent the past few weeks attempting to reconcile herself with the fact that yes, that had been her. There was no denying it, no excuses that could be made, she had set herself on that path the moment she had decided to claim the Moonstone for her own. However else the magical object had tainted her heart and corrupted her soul, it was her own choices that had led her there, her own sense of anger, of helplessness, and a dark desire for a moment in the spotlight and a taste of power.
Was it even possible to put it all behind her?
Her friends were certainly acting as if it was a possible thing, a feat that could be achieved with just a little bit of time and patience. Lance was his usual jovial self whenever they interacted, but somehow more mature than she remembered him being during their travels together. It seemed that fatherhood suited him—she couldn’t help but notice how good he was with the girls, with Varian, with everyone.
Eugene somehow managed to be even kinder than Lance, a fact that embarrassed her deeply. Sure, she knew that she had already done a lot to atone in his eyes, but she had also done a lot to hurt him, specifically. It was difficult for her to remember why exactly she had resented him so much, except that her hatred toward him had been a shifting complicated thing, fed by many sources, all of which had evaporated, gone dry, in the aftermath of her surrender. She had tried to bring it up once, her wonder at how quick he had been to forgive her, and he had merely stated that he hadn’t always been the nicest to her either, and besides, she had stood with him when it mattered most.
“You gave me the Moonstone shard and helped me rescue Rapunzel and Varian from Zhan Tiri. How could I stay mad at you after that?”
Varian was the easiest to talk to. He seemed to understand her on a level the others could not, and she had come to appreciate the quiet, thoughtful reflections he would offer her, like a child proffering a shiny pebble. “It was Owl who convinced me to give you another chance,” he explained one afternoon in his lab. “He’s the one who told me you were ready to come back to us.”
“Owl told you?” Cassandra asked, amused, as the raptor cocked his head at her from his perch on the windowsill. She thought she was the only one who heard Owl in words.
“Well, more implied it, really.” Varian hummed, a sheepish expression on his face as he straightened from his crouch over the worktable. “And he was right.” There was a pause as the kid rubbed at his neck, seemingly searching for words. “I’m glad you came back. We wouldn’t have defeated Zhan Tiri without you.”
“I’m glad I did too,” she responded sincerely.
And then there was Rapunzel.
Rapunzel, like the others, didn’t seem to hold what Cassandra had done against her. The princess was kind, as she always was, filled to bursting with understanding and forgiveness. And yet, there was a distance between them, a barrier, as if they were standing on either side of a frosted window, allowing them to glimpse each other but not touch.
And Cassandra wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
She was grateful that Rapunzel wasn’t pressuring her, pushing her into an intimacy that was too much, too soon, like she had when they first met. But Cassandra also felt—hurt, in a way, though she knew that was irrational.
Rapunzel was kind to her, as she was kind to everyone. But did she still care, or had Cassandra’s wrath burned away all the love that had been between them?
Does it matter? Cassandra wondered. She had convinced herself, that fateful day when she had grasped her destiny in her hand, that she didn’t care, that it was fine if it was over between them.
But maybe it did matter to her, somewhere deep in the depths of her heart.
Though there was one moment, a reminder of the helplessness Cassandra had felt while traveling with Rapunzel to the Dark Kingdom, of having to submit to every one of the princess’ ill-thought-out whims. Rapunzel asked if she should keep the Sundrop for its healing powers, and Cassandra’s marrow turned to ice.
Rapunzel couldn’t be serious, how could she think that was a good idea, no matter how many people the Sundrop saved, the Moonstone would destroy more. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. Cassandra knew that as intimately as she knew the mottled marks on her injured hand.
To her infinite relief, every person in the room spoke against it. Even Eugene, who had always tended to go along with whatever the princess desired, stood firmly opposed to the idea. And when Varian delivered the closing argument, insisting that the Celestial Stones needed to be brought together or there would be unimaginable consequences, Rapunzel backed down, and Cassandra could breathe again.
“I’m so sorry, Cassandra. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Just that simple acknowledgement, the awareness and respect for Cassandra’s feelings seemed new, and though Cassandra wasn’t fully at ease—and she wouldn’t be, until the Moonstone was neutralized and no longer a threat—she did believe that Rapunzel was sincere.
Maybe we’ve all changed and grown this past year, Cassandra mused.
Not that any of it mattered, as far as their relationship was concerned. Her trial would be coming up in a few weeks (she had been told a tentative date of June 1st), after which she would be sent into exile. And then she would put it all behind her, literally, by leaving the kingdom that had been her home to start over again, someplace new.
At last, she would have what she had always craved—the freedom to leave, to find herself.
The thought was a melancholy one as she wondered why it had been so hard to see that she had always had that freedom. Perhaps, if Zhan Tiri had never been there to lead her astray, she would have figured that out in her own time. Perhaps she and Rapunzel could have parted ways peacefully after they reached the Dark Kingdom—
But no. Eugene had said that Rapunzel would have died if she had attempted to take the Moonstone.
And what was done was done, and Cassandra couldn’t change it. She could only move forward, one step at a time.
One step at a time.
✧✧✧
The demon glared down at Varian, just as she had in those moments before the amber had closed around her, sealing her in her prison, freezing her in time.
He hadn’t seen Zhan Tiri, outside of vague, uncomfortable dreams, since the final battle and her defeat. It was a definite relief to see that she was still there atop her black rock pedestal, unable to move or cast her foul influence over any of his friends. Unable to find him in his dreams, outside of pale copies of a bad memory…
“You’ve got everything you need?” Eugene asked as he stood at Varian’s side, his hands resting nonchalantly on his hips. A slight frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he gazed upward to where the demon towered above them.
“Yeah,” Varian replied easily. “I’ve got this.”
Eugene tore his eyes from the statue, turning to beam his smile at Varian. “I know you do.”
Varian spent the morning setting up the framework of the portal and reinforcing the structure with rivets, braces, and a metal ring. The metal ring was fastened to the inside of the wooden support ring and studded with large green minerals collected from one of the Coronan stone quarries. Three oblong vortex generators were also attached to the ring, equidistant from each other, with one at the apex and the two others at the four and eight o’clock positions, respectively.
It was swift work, with the many hands assisting him—Stan, Pete, and Bentley were there, as was Atticus the carpenter, who helped him fasten numerous rivets and bolts. But even more, the entire square was teeming with guards, so many that they didn’t even need to use horses as 20 men stepped up to lift the huge ring vertically onto its stand. Eugene had assigned several units of guards to secure the square and ensure that the public was kept at a safe distance while the work proceeded, and to lend Varian a hand or two (or 40) when needed.
Once the grunt work was done, Varian focused on the more technical aspects. He set up the control panel, which was a simple box with a lever, next to the hourglass-shaped power generator. He connected the two using a cable that would transfer a signal from the control panel to the power source, activating it with a pull of the lever. He then ran the power cable from the engine and over to the portal itself, feeding it into the metal ring that connected the green minerals and the vortex generators to each other, which would enable the device to circulate the power provided by the engine and open the portal.
Almost done.
He climbed the scaffolding, carefully inspecting each of the vortex generators and every one of the round-cut crystals, ensuring that they were in good order and ready to activate. He paused for a moment at the top of the portal, the gold vortex generator under his hand, and his eyes were caught by the white clouds adrift in the brilliant blue sky above him.
A beautiful day for banishing a demon.
His gaze swept past the malignant statue as he realized he wasn’t the only one eager to see Zhan Tiri gone—all around the square, behind the wooden barriers, curious people had gathered to watch the work being done. A group of children waved when they saw him looking toward them, and without thinking he waved back, eliciting whoops of excitement from the bunch. Varian could feel his cheeks burning as he quickly climbed down from the scaffolding.
“Is it ready?” Eugene asked as Varian leaped down from the last rung and onto the packed dirt of the ground.
“All set for the first test.”
A group of guards moved in to quickly dismantle the scaffolding, while others did a sweep of the activation zone of the portal, a long narrow corridor that extended from the aperture and for roughly 200 feet, ensuring that the area was clear. A straw training dummy, dressed in a guard uniform and helmet (and a creatively drawn demon face, courtesy of Kiera) was propped up in a standing position in the center of the activation zone.
Meanwhile, Varian and Eugene both got ready, donning safety harnesses that looped around their thighs, up across their backs, over their shoulders, to finally buckle around their chests. The harnesses were then affixed to long ropes via clasps on their backs, which were secured by several guards standing just inside the barriers, ensuring that even if something went awry, neither Eugene nor Varian would be sucked into the portal.
“You don’t need to be here for this,” Varian argued for the umpteenth time as he reached for the lever and prepared to pull. He could feel his stomach tightening, a sudden rush of nerves, that old self-doubt that would still assail him at unexpected moments, plaguing him with images of how this could all go so very, very wrong—
“Team Awesome sticks together,” Eugene replied as he pulled his pair of borrowed goggles down over his eyes. “No way am I letting you do this on your own.”
And that was all it took, those words of support along with the trusting smile on Eugene’s face, and Varian felt confidence surging through him. He pulled the lever.
Immediately, the power generator with its spiky crown of golden balls began to spin rapidly, and there was a flash of light. The crystals studding the device glowed, their light more blue than green, until the vortex generators concentrated the light, beaming it across the aperture to flow together in whirls and eddies, almost like water, creating a smooth blue surface across the opening of the portal.
The portal to the Lost Realm!
There was a strong wind whipping his hair about and pulling at his clothes. And then an abrupt surge, a sudden gust pushed him off balance and he stumbled toward the portal, managing to place his foot wide and catch himself just as Eugene threw his arms around him in an iron grip. There was a tug on the harness as the guards on the sidelines took up the slack of the rope, tightening it.
The test dummy began to tumble forward, toward the portal, the helmet falling off in the process and rolling across the dirt, just ahead of the dummy. And then dummy and hemet were lifted off the ground by the strong suction, flying toward the turbulent surface of the portal, before sinking through it like stones into a lake.
Varian reached toward the lever, throwing it forward into the off position. The swirl of the lights slowed, thinned, as the vortex generators powered down, and then the green crystals dimmed and the light vanished from the aperture of the portal, revealing the view of the other side of the square as if a curtain had been drawn from a window.
The intense wind died down, and Eugene released his grip around Varian’s chest. The two of them uncurled, rising to stand upright as they both pushed their goggles away from their eyes.
And then Varian laughed out loud as he took a step toward the portal, the machine he had built!
“It works!” he cried out as he tried to take another step forward, only to be stopped by the pressure on his harness as the rope went taut once more.
“Of course it works, Starlight,” Eugene hummed as he pulled at Varian’s harness, opening the clasp and releasing the rope. “I never doubted you.”
Varian laughed again and spun around to give Eugene a hug that caused the man to wheeze. Then he pivoted back toward the portal, running around it once to make absolutely sure that the training dummy and its helmet were nowhere to be seen on the far side of the portal. They were not, and he had to assume that the machine had done what it was designed to do and banished the items to the Lost Realm, as Demanitus had named the other dimension.
Varian spent the next few hours in a euphoric haze as he finished running tests on the portal, seeing just how close an object needed to be in order to be affected by the mysterious pull of the vortex. All while that was happening, he could hear the sound of hammering as workers erected several makeshift bleachers on either side of the square, in order to accommodate the expected audience.
There would be an audience…
That part was a bit more nerve-racking, especially as he had been worried that someone could get hurt. The portal was a powerful device, and one small error and some poor innocent could end up trapped in the other dimension. But he relented when Eugene explained that for many, especially those who had been in the castle courtyard during Zhan Tiri’s initial attack, it would be reassuring to see the demon’s banishment with their own eyes. And Varian understood that sentiment, understood the need to see Zhan Tiri cast out, and their world safe from her forever more.
Cassandra had insisted to both Eugene and Varian that she wanted to be present—that she needed to be present.
So Varian resigned himself to an audience as he continued running tests, ensuring that he would know every little detail, every in and out of the machine he had built.
And once it was done, he hoped to never see Zhan Tiri’s malevolent face again—not even in the darkest shadows of his dreams.
✧✧✧
Eugene decided that the king was definitely up to something. The question was what?
Cornelius, the commander of the King’s Royal Guard, was snooping around in places he shouldn’t be: the Royal Vault, Varian’s lab, and even Eugene’s own office, where the captain caught him rifling through some of the papers on his desk. When questioned about what exactly he thought he was doing, the man looked bothered, embarrassed, but quickly explained that he had been told that the captain would be in his office, and upon his absence had decided to see if the duty roster was somewhere on his desk, as the king had asked for it.
“Why does the king want the duty roster?” Eugene crossed his arms. “And why not ask me for it himself?”
“I don’t question the king; I just follow his orders.”
Eugene opened the appropriate desk drawer and found a copy of the roster, handing it to Cornelius with only the barest minimum of a warning glower. “Next time, ask.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not that the king appeared to be doing anything other than gathering information. Whenever they met for dinner (which fortunately was less frequent after the Lantern Festival, though still frequent enough), Frederic would ask, almost casually, about Eugene’s duties and how they were progressing. And though it all seemed innocent enough—he was the king, after all, and it wasn’t surprising that he wanted to know how security in the kingdom was faring—Eugene couldn’t help but think his future father-in-law was setting him up for something.
The questions the king asked were just a little too specific—about Eugene’s personal work hours, guard details, the Moonstone and its whereabouts, even the portal and how it operated. Occasionally, he would even ask questions about Varian, though Frederic was careful to only bring up the young alchemist when Arianna and Rapunzel were both on the other side of the parlor talking, or out on the balcony.
“From what I have been told, the boy obeys you unquestioningly.”
The comment was jarring. “No,” Eugene protested, “it’s not like that—” He stopped, just as he was about to explain that Varian had his own mind and did his own thing, and it was a good thing he did, because his beautiful, unique mind had saved them all. But Eugene quickly pulled back, realizing that the king wouldn’t want to hear that, didn’t need to hear that.
“Varian’s a good kid,” Eugene stated instead. “He’s going to eliminate the black rock problem”—the problem you failed to solve—“once and for all.”
If Frederic had heard the unspoken accusation in the tone of Eugene’s voice, he didn’t show it, merely smiled pleasantly as he leaned comfortably back in his chair.
“I will admit, I’m quite excited to see it.”
Eugene brought the subject up with Rapunzel on several occasions, and she did listen to him. But whenever he tried to explain exactly what made him uneasy, it sounded silly, even to his own ears.
“I get that you’re worried,” she stated softly as the two of them left the royal apartments after another evening in her parents’ company, “but I think Dad really has given up. He’s not even attending the council meetings anymore. He’s probably just being nosy, to feel like he’s still involved.”
“Maybe,” Eugene replied, drawing out the word as he pondered it. Frederic had seemed mostly curious, he had to admit that was true, even respecting Eugene’s refusal to give him certain information, such as the current location of the Moonstone.
But there was still something about the king’s behavior that was worrying.
Or maybe Eugene just didn’t trust him.
Rapunzel hummed, the sound of one of her ideas, and she turned to him as she clapped her hands together. “How about you try spending some time with him? You could keep an eye on him and get to know him better! Feed two birds with one hand!”
Which—ugh. Not exactly what Eugene wanted to do.
Sensing his hesitancy, she reached for his fingers, clasping them comfortingly in her own. “He’s on your list, remember? You promised me you would take care of yourself. And to do that you should talk to him—tell him how you feel.”
“Right. My list.” He ran a hand through his hair as he pondered the idea. Once, the thought of confronting the king about his past treatment of him would have been terrifying to him. But now, it didn’t seem so frightening.
What was the worst that could happen?
“I’ll try. If I get the opportunity.”
“That’s all I can ask,” she beamed.
As it turned out, opportunities were few and far between. Between dealing with an influx of visitors to the castle (both welcome and unwelcome), ensuring that Varian had the help he needed for the portal project, and dividing his evenings between Their Royal Majesties (where the presence of the queen generally interfered with any such attempts) and his friends, Eugene was fresh out of hours in the day.
But he knew a confrontation was coming.
Even so, it seemed that the king was no more eager to initiate it than Eugene was. The days went by, and though Eugene continued to remain on high alert, there were no direct confrontations other than finding Cornelius in his office that one time.
And as captain, he had other things on his very full plate to worry about.
First and foremost, Varian, and the portal demonstration.
The day was off to a glorious start—the weather, as always, was perfect, the crowd that had gathered to watch accommodating. The initial test run was a success, though Eugene had to admit he was taken by surprise at the sheer power generated by the portal, which nearly knocked them off their feet. He was grateful for the forethought of using harnesses on himself and the kid, and insisted they were both buckled in every time the lever was thrown.
He understood Varian’s concerns about having an audience, but this was Corona, and a crowd was already gathering on the outside of the temporary wooden barriers that had been erected around the square. And as Eugene explained, it would be cathartic for everyone to see the nightmare that was Zhan Tiri banished once more, a banishment which would hopefully be permanent this time.
“You worry about the portal, kid, and I’ll worry about the safety of the audience. That’s my job, anyway.”
Varian nodded with relief, clearly glad to hand off that responsibility to the captain.
And Eugene felt supremely confident that everything had been checked and quadruple-checked by the time the guards opened the barriers on either side of the square, allowing for a line of townsfolk to shuffle toward the bleachers and into the stands that rose into the air, towering above the portal that stood between them. It was impossible to accommodate everyone who wanted to watch, but still, he was pleased with the way they had maximized the space, allowing them to fit over 600 enthusiastic spectators into a relatively small (but safe) area.
While Eugene was busy with that, Varian was running around the machine with his tools, tightening a screw here and tweaking a crystal there, even occasionally waving to the groups of children that gathered outside of the perimeter fence to ogle at the sight. It wasn’t until the bleachers began to fill that the kid quieted somewhat, darting nervous glances toward the crowds that were filing into the seats.
“Are we ready to go?” Eugene asked, placing an encouraging hand on Varian’s shoulder.
Instead of answering, the kid asked his own question as his eyes roamed across the bleachers. “Who all is coming?”
“Well,” Eugene began, pulling Varian close to his side, “there’s most of the council members, including Xavier, Sofia, Lord Durbin, and the like. The king and queen will be in attendance,” he stated matter-of-factly, jerking his chin to indicate a small box that had been set up in front of the bleachers, where the monarchs would be arriving any moment. “There’s of course Lance and Cassandra—as members of the team that brought down Zhan Tiri, they get front-row seats,” he added, spinning the kid around toward the other side of the square, where another small box had been set up in front of the bleachers. “And Lance is bringing the girls, and Cass her dad. And our dads are coming as well.”
“They are?” Varian asked, looking up at Eugene with a befuddled expression.
“Well, they seemed quite eager to be here for the occasion,” Eugene replied dryly, “Quirin especially.”
“Oh.”
“So—are you ready?”
Varian looked thoughtful for a moment, and then a smile spread across his face. “I’m ready.”
After everyone had settled into their places and the barriers around the square were closed, it began. Varian gave a confident speech, first facing one side, then the other, about the steps of the process. He warned the observers that the forces at work would be quite powerful, but there was no cause for alarm as it had been tested thoroughly. Eugene reinforced the message by insisting that everyone stay seated, and that anyone who attempted to approach the portal without authorization would be promptly arrested and removed from the premises.
He allowed his gaze to sweep from one end of the bleachers to the next as he spoke the warning, before spinning around and repeating it to the other side. The faces watching him looked grim, though all seemed to accept his words. He noticed King Frederic’s mouth tighten ever so slightly as he reached over to clasp the queen’s hand in his. Next to them, having been granted the privilege of sitting in the royal box, was Lord Durbin, his fingers steepled before him with what could only be deemed excitement, and a younger woman with riotous red hair, holding an elaborate fan which covered half her face, hiding her expression from the crowd. Lord Durbin’s younger sister, Clarissa, if Eugene recalled correctly.
On the opposite side, in the heroes’ box, Rapunzel waved cheerfully from where she was seated next to Nigel and Kiera. Lance was between his girls, one arm wrapped around each as if to personally assure himself that neither one would be going anywhere, which Eugene heartily approved. Next to Catalina was Cassandra and Captain Stone, both with closed, unreadable expressions as they sat stiffly in their chairs. Even Max was there, though he wasn’t seated in the box (for obvious reasons), but standing next to it, his neck arched as he stood proudly at attention.
“All right, then,” Eugene stated as he placed an arm around Varian’s shoulders, “I think we should get started.”
Varian grinned in response.
The first step of the process was freeing the amberfied demon from her pedestal. For this, Adira stepped forward from the crowd. She placed herself at the foot of the statue as numerous guards wound heavy ropes all around the trapped demon. As soon as the lines were secure, Adira pulled the Shadow Blade from its sheath and severed the black rock near the base of the amber, allowing the heavy block to fall back against the ropes and lowered gently to the ground.
When they finished, Adira resumed her place in the stands, while guards carried the block of amber to the portal, using the ropes around it to secure it in an upright position.
“This is it,” Varian breathed, and any nervousness the kid may have harbored seemed to vanish in the sheer excitement of what he was doing. He placed his hands on the lever before turning to Eugene, awaiting his signal.
Eugene allowed his gaze to sweep the square one more time—from the spectators in the stands and the boxes, to the guards that were stationed around the square and the people that were pressed against the wooden barriers.
He then turned to the horrifying effigy being propped up in front of the portal by six different ropes wrapped around it, each held taut by guards standing on either side of the activation zone. They, like Eugene and Varian, were all wearing safety harnesses, which were held by an even larger group of guards standing even further off to the sides.
The portal itself stood ready to go, its massive gold engines (“portal generators” the kid had called them) gleaming in the bright sunshine, its sparkling green crystals winking like the gems on a wedding band. The opening of the portal itself was wide, but there was some concern that with the forces generated, and the unwieldy nature of the block of amber, there was some risk to the procedure. The portal could be damaged if the amber hit the side of the ring and failed to move smoothly through the aperture in one motion, hence the attempt to direct the process with ropes. His eyes narrowed at the yellow pillar as he tried to imagine the forces that would soon be unleashed upon it.
And finally, his eyes swept back to where Varian was peering at him through his goggles, his expression solemn as both his gloved hands grasped the lever.
Eugene pulled his own goggles down over his eyes before nodding at the boy. “Go,” he ordered, unleashing the word.
A grin flashed across Varian’s face, almost diabolical, as he turned back toward the portal and yanked the lever toward himself. The blue glow arose from the vortex generators, creating a smooth film that covered the aperture of the portal, even as the expected wind whipped at them, tearing at their clothes.
Eugene and Varian were a little further to the side than they had been in the initial test runs, partly to be further out of the way of the activation zone, but also due to the nest of ropes that were now involved, which carried the greatest risk of the whole operation. Eugene pulled Varian down, covering him, even as the first two ropes, wrapped about the eerie statue’s head were released, snapping in the portal-generated wind as the statue itself tilted forward toward the aperture.
The amber block strained toward the portal, lifting itself off the ground as the four remaining ropes held it aligned perfectly for entry, head-first, like a diver into a deep pond. Eugene called the order and the remaining ropes were dropped, the entrapped demon flying toward the opening. There was a moment when his breath hitched as the base of the structure caught on the lower edge of the ring, dislodging one of the glowing crystals and shaking the frame of the portal. But then the entire amber block was through, gone from sight, and he and Varian released held breaths, even as the kid bounced upward to reach for the lever once more. He threw it forward, and the portal powered down, the smooth blue surface vanishing along with the intense pull of the vortex, revealing nothing more than the other side of the square through its round aperture.
“It’s done.” Varian sagged for a moment where he stood, the lever still in hand. And then he straightened, releasing the rod and pushing his goggles up as he turned back toward Eugene.
“It’s done,” Eugene repeated, and he knew he was smiling too wide, his cheeks stretched tight, but he couldn’t help it, it was done, and they need never worry about Zhan Tiri again. “You’d better unplug it,” he stated, indicating the device. “Just to be safe.”
“Right,” Varian responded, breathing deeply. He turned back to the power generator and with a few quick movements the cables that fed the portal were disconnected, even as Eugene shrugged his way out of his harness and removed his goggles.
And then Varian barreled into Eugene, wiry arms tight around his chest. “Did you see that? It worked! Well, of course it worked, Demanitus was a genius—”
“I saw it,” Eugene replied through Varian’s continued barrage of excitement. He hurried to unfasten the harness from around the kid, freeing him before he got them both tangled up in the ropes. “They saw it too,” he stated slyly as the last clasp loosened and the harness fell to the ground.
Varian stopped in the middle of a run-on sentence, a veritable army of commas, a voluble ode to the happiness of the moment. It was almost comical the way his eyes widened as his own silence finally allowed him to hear what was happening all around them.
A thunderous applause that grew and grew, until it seemed to explode as Varian turned toward the audience.
“Woah,” he breathed, stepping closer to Eugene.
✧✧✧
Was this another dream?
In the onrush of elation, Varian had entirely forgotten about the watching crowd, the masses of Coronan citizenry that had shown up to turn a simple case of demon banishment into a grand spectacle.
There was a moment when the sheer ferocity of the crowd sent his adrenaline spiking even higher than it had been, the roars of approval difficult to distinguish from roars of anger, and he took a step closer to the solid presence, the safety that was Eugene in his bright red uniform.
“You did it, kid,” Eugene stated good-naturedly, his eyes fixed on the far bleachers. “I think we’ll all sleep soundly tonight knowing Zhan Tiri is gone.”
Varian didn’t reply, but stepped forward, toward where he could see his father sitting in the first row of the rising stands. His gaze rose up and across the bleachers, taking in the hundreds of people who were cheering, clapping, stamping their feet. It was overwhelming.
But that didn’t stop him from taking another step forward and delivering a deep bow. He arose with both arms spread to the sound of renewed cheers, before spinning on his heel and walking toward the bleachers on the other side. He allowed his gaze to brush past the royal box before he once more dropped into a bow, whipping upright with a grin so wide he could feel it as cheers and applause echoed all around him.
Oh yes, he remembered this dream. It was one of his favorites.
Except, somehow, this wasn’t a dream. It was real, solid, as solid as the many arms that wrapped around him, exclaiming their happiness. Rapunzel, smelling like lavender, her hand soft on his cheek; Lance, jovial and kind, his deep voice bubbling with laughter as he swung him around; the girls quick and darting as they hugged him; his uncle Edmund and aunt Adira, both smiling and happy in their own mysterious ways as they beamed down at him from their impressive heights.
Cassandra was there too, her face alight with a strange glow, and there was a fierce curl to her lip as she stared toward the portal. And then her hand was on Varian’s shoulder and she squeezed, before surprising him by pulling him into a hug.
“Thanks, kid. You have no idea how much I needed to see her—gone. For good.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure, believe me,” he responded, meaning it with every fiber of his soul.
He had gotten a taste of the dream, back when he had first demonstrated the amber gun to the appreciative people of Corona. It had been lovely then too (even if it had been followed by hours of apprehension and hiding from a wrathful king), but it had been an incomplete experience. His father hadn’t been there.
But now at last he was. Quirin had watched as his son threw the lever, watched as the demon was cast through the portal and into oblivion, and watched as the crowd cheered and clapped, their endorsement echoing against the bleachers, resounding around the square. He, Varian, had done well, and the people approved.
He was no longer that little kid who kept failing spectacularly, to the consternation of everyone who knew him.
He hadn’t been that kid for quite some time now, but that image still surfaced in vulnerable moments, peeking out at him from deep and dark memories as he fell asleep—the cry of frustration and anger from the villagers, the disappointment and hurt in his father’s eyes.
“Not again, Varian.”
It was silly, he knew his father was proud of him, knew he’d done more than enough to make up for all his childish nonsense. But still, to have his father here now, seeing his son in action, proving once and for all that there was no longer any cause for his father to feel shame—
It was the cherry on top of the elaborately frosted cupcake.
Varian stepped clear of the multitude of well-wishers that surrounded him, toward the mountain of a man who was standing on the sidelines, patiently waiting for him. For a moment, Varian felt like a child again, rushing toward his father to beg his approval—
Did you see that, Dad? Did you see what I did?
He didn’t allow himself to speak the words out loud, but he wondered if his face betrayed his thoughts as his father reached toward him, sweeping him up into his arms.
“My clever boy,” the man rumbled, “you never fail to amaze me.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Varian replied as his arms settled around his father’s neck, his heart bursting with happiness.
✧✧✧
If it was awkward for Cassandra to find herself in a crowd of happy Coronan revelers, it was worth it—in spite of the occasional sneers that were cast her way—to watch as Zhan Tiri, her former friend, confidante, and tormentor, was exiled from this world. The relief she felt as Zhan Tiri was cast through the portal was freeing, like the shattering of chains.
Corona being what it was, there was of course another impromptu party, with music and dancing in the many squares of the city and courtyards of the castle, and street vendors seemingly materializing out of nowhere to hawk their wares. Adding to the beauty of the evening, the moon, full and bulbous and peaceful, rose above the mountains in the east and climbed the sky toward its zenith, bathing the magical island below in its soft light.
Cassandra didn’t participate in the celebration, though she did accept her father’s offer of a cupcake as she sat in the open window of her room and looked out over the courtyard below, to where people were wandering to and fro in the soft glow of moonlight.
Had she ever really felt at home in Corona?
Still, she was content, the foul shadow of Zhan Tiri gone from the world. It felt like her sleep was gentler, softer, the darkened shadows at the edges of her dreams no longer something to fear. She awoke that morning refreshed, and with a new determination to pull herself out of the pit she had fallen into and move on.
And to do that, the next step was to neutralize the Moonstone.
Not that she could do much about that herself, not directly, but she could help. Stepping into Varian’s lab that sunny morning, she immediately noticed the crates upon crates stacked against the far wall, overflowing with cables and metal components—the remains of the portal, broken down into rough pieces. Varian immediately set her to work, her job to sort through the crates and separate the gold from the other components, placing them in a pile.
“It’s almost a shame, to break down this machine,” Cassandra commented at one point as she used a screwdriver to dismantle the odd hourglass-shaped power generator she had helped him build, not that long ago. “Couldn’t this be used to generate power to, I don’t know, heat the castle, or something like that?”
“I thought that too, but it’s too dangerous,” Varian replied, staring down at the notebook in his hands. “The portal required power at an almost unimaginable level to function. Using this type of power generator for anything else would be—overkill.” He tapped the notebook with the pen he was holding as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be scaled down, I suppose. I’ll have to consider that.”
The morning continued like that, little conversations between them as they worked their way through the crates. She couldn’t help but notice how happy he was, how he seemed to almost dance around the lab as he fiddled with a device here or wrote down a series of notes there. At one point, she glanced over his shoulder to look at what he was doing, to notice that the diagram beneath his hands was one she had seen before—a blueprint for an elaborately complicated prosthetic limb.
“You’re working on that now?” she asked, surprised. “I thought the Unification Machine was your main focus.” She tried, and perhaps failed, to keep the irritation she was feeling from coloring her voice.
“It is,” he replied, casting her a glance that was almost—pitying. “Don’t worry, this is just a—a side-project, but I’d like to make sure I finish before June 1st, if I can.”
“Why June 1st?”
He looked back down at the blueprint beneath his hand. “That’s when—I heard Eugene say—your trial starts.”
“Oh,” she replied, as realization slowly dawned.
“I was thinking—if I can get Laurel her prosthetis before then—she might be a little less of a hostile witness for you.” He sighed as he rubbed at his forehead, brushing the hair from his eyes. “That was the worst part of my trial. Everyone who showed up to accuse me, to tell me exactly how I’d wronged them, the pain they’d suffered because of me.”
Cassandra felt ice flow through her veins at the image of facing Laurel and the countless other people she had hurt. She hadn’t really thought of that part of the trial—she’d mostly tried not to think about it, beyond what was to come after.
“Thanks, kid,” she mumbled as she leaned against his desk. “But I don’t want you to worry about me. Whatever I have to face, I’ll face. It’s only fair.”
“You have your dad’s support, right?” he asked cautiously. “I had Eugene. I couldn’t have made it through without him.”
“Yeah,” she replied with a heavy sigh of her own. The mention of those two particular men pinged something in her, a memory of anger and resentment. “You know,” she began casually, her thoughts wandering, “this was not how my story was supposed to go. I never imagined, when Fitzherbert first showed up at the castle, that one day I would be the prisoner and he the jailer. The world really is turned upside down.”
The smile he granted her was full of sympathy. And then his brows lowered as he brought a hand up to stroke his chin in thought. “Huh. Jail and prison are synonyms, and yet jailer and prisoner are antonyms. That’s kind of weird, if you think about it.”
She stared at him for a long moment, attempting to process what he had said, before succumbing to the very slightest of eyerolls. “Um—okay, yeah. Very profound.”
He shrugged, sinking more deeply against the backrest of his chair. “I wasn’t trying to be profound, it was just an observation. It’s one of those nuances of language that can make translations tricky. I should know.”
Before she could reply, there was the sound of the door to the lab being thrown open, and the subject of their conversation strode confidently into the room.
“Ah, Cassandra, there you are.”
She groaned dramatically as she pushed herself off the desk to stand. “What do you want, Fitzherbert?”
“A couple things,” Eugene declared as he promptly dropped an odd bundle he had been carrying down onto the nearest worktable. “I need to know if this is what’s left of that shapeshifting cloak.”
Swift steps and curiosity carried Cassandra across the room to where the bundle was placed. The last time she had had the cloak was when she had first attempted to surrender the Moonstone, and she and Eugene had both fallen into one of the underground tunnels. She remembered feeling the cloak being ripped from her as she fell, and then she had been dangling from the edge of a precipice and all thoughts of the magical item had fled her mind.
She placed her hand on the heavy black cloth, or rather what remained of it, as Eugene droned on about how the men rebuilding the tunnels had found it and brought it to him, and that he had been worried about its whereabouts. There wasn’t much left of the cloak, beyond part of the hood, but the clasp was there, or rather the one half of it, bearing the silver image of a chameleon.
“This is it,” she answered, “or what’s left of it.”
She tried it on, clasping the tattered remnants around her neck, but it would not function, refusing to alter her appearance at all, not even to color a single lock of her hair. Perhaps it wasn’t strange that Eugene looked relieved at the demonstration.
“Okay, so, now we know where the cloak is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s a relief.”
“It’s weird to think how powerful it was,” Varian murmured thoughtfully. He touched the cloak where it lay on the table, running tentative fingers across the silver clasp. “I wonder if it could be repaired?”
“Oh, no you don’t, kid,” Eugene groaned as he lifted the bundle from the table and tucked it under his arm. “This is going into the vault for safekeeping.” The captain exhaled loudly as he turned back to Cassandra. “Now that that’s settled, there’s one more thing. Your defense attorney has arrived and would like to meet with you for a preliminary interview. This afternoon.”
Varian’s eyes widened as he turned to see Cassandra’s reaction.
She simply shrugged, clasping her elbows in her hands. “Sure. My schedule is wide open.”
And so, on to the next step.