《Mal》


 Prologue

    The gray sky descends onto the barren land. Stagnant cold fog fills the empty spaces between mountains and rocks where nothing can live nor grow. There is no wind, no sound, only dead dreams and hopes.


    And dying thorns.


    Brittle tips of barbed vines stretch up high on a jagged cliff but never reach the top. Following them down they grow in number, forming jumbled masses like snakes entangled, growing denser and denser where they form an impenetrable wall.


    The shades, neither living nor dead, throw themselves at the wall with the bared teeth of snarling dogs and taloned limbs of a harpy. Their werewolf bodies are pure black save for their yellow eyes starved for what lays in the cave protected by thorns. All they crave is magic to quench the wrathful curses clawing at their stomachs, for shades are shadows of repressed human desires given form.


    Countless shades gather, snarling as they throw their bodies at the thorns as they have for the past one hundred years to no avail. Until today. One shade bites down and rips through a weakened tendril. The dry snap resounds into the pointed ears of every shade and they converge.


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    The tearing and snapping echoes deep into the cave where a single human body sleeps, a single blue rose laid upon his chest. His soft breaths are soon overwhelmed by the cacophony that soon stampedes inside and descends on him. A few shades snatch pieces in their mouth and dash back outside. Most fight amongst themselves for scraps, tugging bones and flesh between them until not a single drop of blood is left.


    But the chaos doesn¡¯t end, only crescendos as the shades turn on each other. Those that have eaten are now the ones being eaten, and those are then eaten in turn. For a day and a night the cycle continues until all have devoured and those that remain whimper and lower their heads for they don¡¯t know what they are meant to do next.


    Only a white skull is left where the boy had once slept, the single blue rose bursting out of its mouth. A ghost stares down at it, eyes haunted by the sight of his own demise. His gossamer, small body, slumps forward and eventually falls to his knees. Silent, he bends down and brings his lips to the pitiful, wilting flower. The lonely, mournful kiss is little more than a breath on blue petals.


    END SCENE

 1. EXT. OUTSIDE THE CAVE - MIDNIGHT

    Contrast to the darkness of the cave, the moon illuminates the entrance. What is left of the thorns cling to the outer edges, the night wind swinging them as they hang from the arch. With the fog dissipated the empty land outside is as clear as the starry sky.


    A stout silhouette peeks in. The Seventh Fairy pulls at a withered strand, accidentally breaking it off the wall.


    ¡°Oh dear,¡± she sighs. ¡°Those pesky shades are finally gone but it seems so is the flower.¡±


    Just as she is about to turn back a black blur dashes past her. The creature stops to peer back at her and they take stock of one another. She at its small body, the purest black, with yellow eyes and puppy-like body, long bone secured in its sharp teeth. And the creature up at the fairy, her round and homey shape with large, sparkling eyes.


    ¡°A shade?¡± Seventh exclaims. ¡°But why is it so tiny?¡±


    At her voice the shade scampers away into the darkness and after a moment of deliberation Seventh follows. At the flick of her wrist fairy lights flicker into existence and light the path. More tiny shades lay throughout the cave, apathetic to her presence.


    Seventh clicks her tongue. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve all had your fill. Leave it to humans to dump their curses like this. We tell them not to abuse magic but they just never listen.¡± She pauses in her steps and squints ahead while the fairy lights slowly continue ahead of her. ¡°There¡¯s still¡­a little bit of magic here¡­¡±


    A thick mass of thorns appear at the back of the cave. The shade she first encountered paces before it in agitated steps. After picking a spot it lowers the bone to the ground and pushes it lightly with its nose towards the mound. Thin tendrils creep out to snake around the bone and pull it in within its tangle. There¡¯s a rattle of bone against bone and the mound shivers before going still once again.


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    The shade attempts to come closer but is whipped back by a frenzy of slashing tendrils. With a yelp of pain the shade scurries out of range and drops to a far corner, whimpering as it licks at its wounds.


    The sight of the wretched relationship fills Seventh with pity and she shakes her head. ¡°What poor fate you¡¯ve been given,¡± she says to the mound of thorns. ¡°Abandoned here without sunlight. It¡¯s no wonder you¡¯ve become so prickly and scornful.¡± When she attempts to get a better look the mound trembles and expands like a bristling cat. Seventh lowers her voice to a gentle coo. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Darling. I know you¡¯re protecting your precious flower. No one will hurt it. Let me have a look at you. Yes, that¡¯s it, Darling. Let this old gardener get a look at you.¡±


    Edges of her laced skirt get caught on thorns as she stands before the mound, lifting her hands to pry through the thorns. Though her fingers bleed she doesn¡¯t wince nor complain. Instead she focuses on creating an opening and, with the help of the fairy lights, catches a glimpse inside.


    A single blue rose grows in the pocket, caged by white rib bones connected to a spine. Seventh releases a long sigh before following the spine upwards. Resting at the top, past the tangle of tightly woven thorns, she finds the skull.


    ¡°Oh Darling¡­¡± Seventh cups the skull, her finger tips softly rubbing the smooth surface and the mound jolts then goes still. ¡°I¡¯ve got you now. Poor child. The hurting will stop soon. Leave everything to me. There¡¯s no flower, shrub, or plant I can¡¯t help. But you have to let me.¡± With a quick glance around her she notices the shades watching them, some of them starting to creep near. ¡°Let all of us here help you.¡±


    One hand she keeps on the skull and with the other she waves the closest shade to approach. The thorny mound shifts when the shade is at Seventh¡¯s feet but doesn¡¯t attack.


    ¡°That¡¯s my Darling! This is a good start. I¡¯ll stay here with you until you¡¯re strong enough to move then we¡¯ll find a nice, warm spot for you. I can create a pretty little garden for you and we¡¯ll talk every day and once you¡¯re doing better we¡¯ll have tea under a flowering tree. How does that sound?¡±


    Tendrils reach out to her as if wanting to embrace her but stop short of touching her, unwilling to cause her the slightest harm yet desperate for her.


    ¡°Shh, don¡¯t worry my Darling. We¡¯ll tidy up this dreary place soon. I¡¯ll make sure you bloom bright and strong. You¡¯ll have the most beautiful roses in all the land.¡±


    In the black abyss behind empty eyes a ghost cries without a voice. His single rose holds on to his tear like a drop of dew on its petal.


    END SCENE

 2. INT. MAL’S CAVE - EVENING

    FOUR YEARS LATER


    Seventh sips her tea amongst the clutter of spools and thread upon the table as she watches Mal fiddle with the worn spinning wheel. The shades, now in colorfully embroidered outfits, chase one another around the two unconcerned adults. Well placed fairy lights illuminate the inner cave now smoothed and furnished. Amongst the half-finished embroidery projects haphazardly thrown about are toys and dirty clothes. Mal, in black conservative robes and hair of thorns, sits before one of three spinning wheels, each push on the wheel winding his frustration further.


    The porcelain cup clinks as Seventh sets it down on its plate. ¡°As I¡¯ve told you,¡± she says, exasperated, ¡°you were swindled.¡±


    Mal refuses to look away from the unspinning wheel. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t do that. Not after I helped with his daughter¡¯s wedding dress. He promised me it could spin the toughest wool, that there was still some magic living in it.¡±


    Seventh rests her chin on her palm. ¡°It¡¯s a common spinning wheel.¡±


    Mal tries again but it refuses to spin. ¡°Maybe the magic faded. Or it needs a deeper clean.¡± The wheel manages a spin but the taut thread snaps and Mal huffs and drops his hands in defeat. ¡°Oh, what am I saying? He gave me a broken spinning wheel. I should¡¯ve asked him where he learned his magic craft first! Any serious spinster would¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, Darling. But your own magic is enough.¡±


    Dark eyes look back at Seventh¡¯s. The man Mal helped, who invited him to his humble house for dinner of bread and porridge, had lied to him. And Mal had even considered telling the man of his magic. Mal had spent three sleepless days working on that wedding dress and the man and his entire family had wept in gratitude. Why swindle him like this? What had Mal done wrong? Mal forces back his tears and his grief quickly warps into anger. ¡°I¡¯ll track down his ship and toss his trash at his feet,¡± Mal says.


    ¡°And then what? Have him discover who you are?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Maybe if he learns I¡¯m the Eighth Fairy he¡¯ll think twice about lying to me.¡±


    ¡°Darling.¡± Her voice is stern. ¡°I did not declare you as the Eighth for things like this! And you know how humans are with magickers. What if he calls you a witch? You¡¯ll be chased out.¡±


    ¡°Fairy, witch, magicker, the name doesn¡¯t change my magic, as weak as it is. And chase me out? I rid the kingdom of the deadly shades and I¡¯m still swindled and lied to?¡±


    A side eye at the shades reveals her thoughts before she speaks them. ¡°You did make the shades your children.¡±


    ¡°How could I not?¡± Mal picks up one of the shades and rubs his cheek into his. The shade cuddles back with a delighted giggle. ¡°They carry a part of me, are extensions of me. And just look at how darling they are!¡±


    While they do paint an adorable picture, Seventh peeks behind them to the two shades wrestling on the ground, biting and growling, over a shiny rock and her brow furrows. ¡°Yes Mal, beautiful darlings. But I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re here messing with that thing,¡± she motions at the unspinning wheel, ¡°instead of preparing for the party tonight.¡±


    Mal cocks his head. ¡°What party?¡±


    ¡°What party? Why, to celebrate the birth of the princess¡­¡± When Mal¡¯s face doesn¡¯t light up Seventh lets the words die and takes a long sip of her tea. Mal slowly sets down the shade and though his face remains carefully neutral as he waits for Seventh to continue, Seventh proceeds with a slightly nervous, cheery tone. ¡°The invitation must be late. Your home is so far away, I think the letter boy lost his way.¡±


    Mal¡¯s face darkens. ¡°They know very well where I live.¡±


    ¡°Well, they must have a reason¡­¡±


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    Anger finds a way out through his trembling fists at his sides. It wafts in the air like hot chills and Seventh gets up to start clearing the table.


    ¡°Really, Darling, it¡¯s not that big of an event. In the last one we were so bored, Fifth and I were pinching each other under the table. And the food, blah!¡± She nonchalantly avoids all eye contact as she carries the dishes to the sink and starts washing them as she talks, not noticing Mal standing over her until she pulls the cup out of her hands.


    ¡°The guest shouldn¡¯t be washing the dishes.¡± Mal takes over and channels all his emotions into scrubbing.


    Unable to keep the pretense Seventh sighs her exasperation. ¡°Mal, there is no meaning behind not inviting you. They must¡¯ve lost your gold plate. Or didn¡¯t want to force you to come out after¡­everything. They must have thought you wouldn¡¯t hear about it, not knowing how often we come visit you.¡±


    Done with the dishes, Mal starts scrubbing the sink.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take this to heart,¡± Seventh pleads. ¡°Letting this¡­this grudge fester will do you no good. Let it go.¡±


    Becoming irritated herself she grabs Mal¡¯s arm and forces him to stop and look at her. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing fine without them and you will continue to do fine without them.¡± Her voice softens and she pats his arm. ¡°Worry about your roses. Nourish them and bloom. How many roses do you have now?¡±


    ¡°Three.¡±


    ¡°See? Three roses to care for. Don¡¯t let them wither.¡±


    Mal hangs his head as he considers her words. Seventh gives him a final pat before making her way to the coat hanger for her cloak. With her hand on the knob she pauses to turn back to him. ¡°Focus on spinning and I will come again soon. I love you my Darling and I want you to be happy, but you have to move on.¡±


    When she leaves Mal stares at the door, his nails digging into his palms. Seventh is right, she always is. He was able to regain some semblance of his old human body because of her. And his roses, he had three because she nurtured them when all Mal wanted to do was pluck them out and be done with everything. Listening to her and forgetting about the party is the right thing to do. And yet¡­


    A concerned shade tugs at his robes but Mal remains oblivious to it. His bottom lip quivers, jaw taunt. He has to move on and yet¡­


    Unable to withstand the weight of his decision he collapses on a chair and drops his head into his hands. He¡¯s simmering inside, memories of his plight, his loss, his rejection from a kingdom he ultimately helped save, fueling the fire.


    The day ends without him, the little light from the door¡¯s glass window soon dimming with the sunset. He can almost hear it, the joyous party guests laughing and dancing as another royal descendent joins them. They eat whatever they desire, embrace one another and share warmth between human bodies.


    Seventh¡¯s words are soon drowned out and Mal wipes away his angry tears as he finally boils over and bursts, slamming his hand down against the table with a dry laugh. ¡°You want me to forget? Just like they¡¯re trying to forget me? Even when they turned me into this?¡± His laughter goes cold. ¡°No. I will show them I am still very much here.¡±


    Mal storms to the unspinning wheel and breaks off a piece. Then he goes to his cabinet and sifts through until he pulls out a glistening silver thread and throws both down on the table. A curious shade hops onto a chair and looks closely at them. Mal smiles at her. ¡°No, no. You¡¯ll be hurt if you touch it.¡± He picks up the end of the thread and slowly starts to bind the broken wooden piece.


    ¡°Have they forgotten, have they erased, the reason for their blissful days? Poor spinster, left behind. Abandoned, out of mind. My poor heart they surely minced. And the prince¡­oh the prince¡­¡±


    The string begins to emit a soft glow and Mal shrugs off the memories.


    ¡°But enough about unpleasant things because¡­¡±


    He taps his foot and the shades come together adding to the music with bangs and claps. Mal sweeps the spindle and thread like one would a dance partner.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have a ball, a grand ol¡¯ ball. With songs of screams and woes. And I, the uninvited guest, shall dance in sweet repose. In dashing robes I sweep the hall to bear a gift divine. Mother, father, precious daughter, will surely not decline.¡±


    Mal returns to the table and sets down the glowing wood, carefully cutting the thread. Silver light fills his eyes that can¡¯t contain his spite. ¡°A spinster they betrayed and so a splinter they will get. A tiny prick, a bit of blood, and off I¡¯ll write their debt.¡±


    The harmony of claps and howls and song intensifies as Mal parts open the front of his robe to reveal three blue roses growing within his empty abdomen. Pain doesn¡¯t register on his elated expression as he grabs one by the stem and yanks it out. He holds it over the silver spindle like a dagger. ¡°Deem me a monster and a monster I¡¯ll be. With this rose I¡¯ll bring the royals to their knees. With this gift of your eternal rest, here comes your uninvited guest!¡±


    Mal strikes down and a burst of light swallows the room. All the shades drop their makeshift instruments and scatter to hide. The only sound reverberating in the cave is Mal¡¯s laughter, manic and loud, slowly dying down with the light until all is plunged into darkness.


    END SCENE

 3. EXT. EMPTY PATH TOWARDS CASTLE - NIGHT

    FLASHBACK


    Dead of night on an empty road. Rattling wheels are heard on the stone path leading to the castle gates. A lone wagon rumbles through with a single driver at the front. The back of the wagon is covered up, undisturbed until a slender hand slips through the curtained entrance. A young Mal peeks through for a single second before he is pulled back into the dark.


    He winces when he hits hard wood, pain being natural for a human body to experience. His mother clicks her tongue behind him. ¡°Mal!¡± She hisses in an attempt to speak quietly. ¡°Stay inside. You know we can¡¯t be seen.¡±


    Mal rubs his bottom and turns to face her. Her graying hair, partly from age and partly not, is bound in a tight bun, an embroidered shawl covering her chin and neck. Her stern, angular face softens to worry and she scoots over to him to fix Mal¡¯s hair from his face.


    ¡°But I want to see the castle,¡± he whispers.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have plenty of time to see it once we¡¯re inside.¡± Once she¡¯s satisfied she pats his head and makes herself comfortable beside him.


    Adjusted to the dark once again, Mal moves their bags to create a cushion. The words are on his tongue but he takes his time flattening a bag of clothes, stealing glances at his mother. When the question becomes too much he asks, ¡°How long are we going to be staying here?¡±


    ¡°Until magic is allowed again,¡± she says vaguely. ¡°Or the shades all disappear. Whichever comes first.¡± When he doesn¡¯t respond she pulls him into her embrace and rests her head on his. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. The king will protect us.¡±


    A scoff. ¡°Only because he wants our magic. If we said we didn¡¯t want to make his clothes and his cloaks¡­¡±


    ¡°Now, now, Mal. We spin and we embroider to protect those that don our wears. And what greater glory is there than protecting the king and his family? You could say we¡¯re protecting the entire kingdom!¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to protect the entire kingdom!¡± All his repressed thoughts he¡¯s held back for his mother burst out. ¡°Why can¡¯t we make his clothes from home? No one would ever turn us in. My friends would never¡­¡±


    The words soften into silence when Mal feels his mother¡¯s grip on him tighten around his shoulders. He sniffs but doesn¡¯t wipe away the single, angry tear. He¡¯s suddenly ashamed of himself for his outburst when his mother had to say goodbye to her friends, friends she¡¯s had longer than Mal¡¯s been alive.


    ¡°Hush now, Mal. You¡¯ll see them again someday.¡±


    Those words are as much for herself as they are for Mal so he quiets down. Soon after the wagon comes to a stop and Mal feels his mother¡¯s body go stiff. They listen intensely as a pair of footsteps come around to the back and the curtain is pulled open. A knight in full armor and helmet peers in for a couple seconds before he barks his order: ¡°Follow the servant inside.¡±


    Mal¡¯s mother shuffles outside with a firm grasp on Mal¡¯s hand. He squeezes back standing beside the tall knight who is content to ignore him so he turns around to the castle just a few feet away. Though they are at the back the structure is no less intimidating, a single tower piercing the sky, higher than Mal ever thought possible. He¡¯s pulled away through a little wooden door in the otherwise stone wall. They speed through hallways, staircases, narrow passageways in between walls at times, and then winding stairs up to the same tower Mal had seen from below.


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    The highest room is round, furnished into a workshop with new equipment and a partial loft where Mal assumes is the bed. Behind him he hears the servant talk to his mother. ¡°If you would follow me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡± She slips her hand from Mal¡¯s and he whips around, suddenly afraid of the dark. His mother places her hands on his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ll be gone for a moment. Go up to bed if you¡¯re tired. Don¡¯t wait for me.¡±


    Before he can tell her he¡¯s scared she¡¯s gone. Mal stands in the lone room listening to their fading footsteps and once he hears nothing he turns to the rest of the room. A single candle is left for him on the table and he hurries to its light. While he warms his freezing fingers over the flame he takes stock of his new home, too organized and too bare. A brand new spinning wheel stands to the side, one Mal would¡¯ve admired through the shop windows knowing he¡¯d never be able to touch it. But he misses his instead, the one they left abandoned, with uneven legs and scratches all over its body from constant use. The same spinning wheel he spun his first thread on.


    He starts sniffing again and he rubs away the first few tears pooling in his eyes. The sadness is consuming but before he fully drowns in it he hears a sharp thud. He seals his mouth shut and whips to the side table beneath the window. Moonlight reflects off the pair of scissors on the floor and beside it a little boot. Mal follows the leg, torso, chest and finally reaches the little face of a boy maybe a year younger than Mal. His scruffy hair is striking black framing vivid honey brown eyes.


    Mal takes a step back. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    The boy gulps and slowly stands up, a deep red cloak hanging off his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m¡­a servant.¡±


    The cloak blares its color in the dark and Mal scrutinizes it. Gold embroidery runs along the edges with more subtle red designs throughout the fabric. Realization dawns on Mal¡¯s face. ¡°I helped Mother make that cloak. For the prince.¡±


    ¡°You made this?¡± All initial distress is gone from the boy¡¯s face as he rushes forward with an elated grin. ¡°You¡¯re the witch that saved my life?¡±


    Mal stumbles another step back more from surprise as the boy comes around the table to him. ¡°What?¡±


    The boy continues on with fast words. ¡°But you¡¯re not wicked and mean, so you must be a magicker.¡± He raises a corner of his cloak. ¡°I was ambushed some days ago by a thief. He came at me with a dagger but I didn¡¯t get a single scratch. Father said it was because the cloak was spun by magic.¡± His finger pokes through a tear and he wiggles it. ¡°But it got torn. Father says I¡¯ll get a new one but I want to keep this one.¡±


    His pleading face is enough for Mal to lower his guard and approach him for a closer look at the damage. ¡°I think I can fix it.¡±


    ¡°You can?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯ll have to spin new thread first.¡±


    ¡°Wow! You¡¯re amazing. I was expecting the spinster to be some old woman, but you¡¯re rather pretty.¡±


    Not expecting such a compliment Mal¡¯s face goes red and he attempts to hide himself by combing his fingers through his loose hair. He clears his throat. ¡°If you leave your cloak with me I¡¯ll have it ready in a few days.¡±


    The boy nods and pulls it off with care and folds it into a neat square, saying, ¡°Normally I wouldn¡¯t entrust my cloak to just anyone but since you helped make it I¡¯ll make an exception.¡±


    Mal laughs. ¡°It¡¯d be difficult to fix it while you¡¯re wearing it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Mal. Should I address you as Prince or¡­?¡±


    The boy gives him a toothy grin. ¡°You can call me Phellious.¡±


    END SCENE

 4. INT. PRINCESS’ BALL - LATE EVENING

    The grand ball is truly a princess¡¯ ball. No expense was too great and no guest casually dressed. Colored fairy lights drift above to light every crevice in the lively and vast room. Music, food and drink drift throughout freely and plentiful while gloved hands take in everything offered to them. The king and queen converse with guests near their thrones while a maid bends over the royal cradle. All are festive and joyous, but along the edge of the room within the privacy of an alcove, the seven fairies huddle together speaking in hurried whispers.


    Second holds out her fist with seven wooden sticks tight in her grip. ¡°Alright now, remember the rules. No matter what lot you pull, you keep. No trades, no begging, and no do-overs!¡±


    To her left, First shrugs and asks, ¡°Why not just go in order.¡±


    Seventh scoffs at that. ¡°Convenient for the first in line!¡±


    Fifth giggles behind her fan crafted from pages of an old book. ¡°Oh, I¡¯d love to see what you¡¯d come up with Seventh.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Fourth pipes in. ¡°Like that prince she gave the gift of clean cloth!¡±


    Seventh lifts her nose, slightly miffed. ¡°Well, that king was revered for his clean image at all events.¡±


    Third and Sixth share a look and smartly keep their thoughts to themselves.


    ¡°Enough now,¡± Second says. ¡°We must hurry up. Everyone make your choice.¡±


    Everyone pinches the tip of a stick.


    ¡°On the count of three we pull. Ready? One, two, three!¡±


    Each of them inspect their stick with a different number of painted rings. Seventh stares, horrified at her stick with seven colored rings. ¡°What miserable luck!¡± She cries.


    Fifth peeks over and stifles a giggle. ¡°The poor princess!¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± Sixth says while motioning with her eyes. ¡°Look, the king is standing. It¡¯s time to present our gifts!¡±


    They pick up their skirts and tails and make their way to the thrones where they stand before the cradle in their predetermined order. The king and queen sit in silence but with a smile on their lips. The queen, tall and elegant, watches on with the same honey brown eyes as the portrait of the old king hanging on the wall behind her.


    Third is the first to step forwards, pushing her round glasses up with nervous hands as she does so. She waves her hand over the cradle and presents her gift. ¡°I bestow the princess the gift of beauty.¡±


    Hidden by the applause Seventh mutters to Fifth, ¡°What an obvious gift.¡±


    Second is second, her movements more confident and assertive. ¡°I bestow the gift of goodness.¡±


    All the fairies take their turn and every gift is followed by applause.


    First: ¡°I bestow the gift of grace.¡±


    Sixth: ¡°And I bestow the gift of dance.¡±


    At the word ¡°dance,¡± Seventh¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°Dance? Then I¡¯ll give her the gift of song.¡±


    ¡°I bestow the gift of song,¡± Fourth says.


    Fifth giggles, cut short by Seventh¡¯s pinch to her arm. Scowling, Fifth quickly rubs her arm before straightening her posture and expression to step up for her turn. ¡°I bestow the gift of wit.¡±


    ¡°They left me with nothing once again,¡± Seventh laments. ¡°Looks like I¡¯ll have to go with¡­¡±


    The merry guests all go quiet and in the silence a heavy set of boots push through the crowd. The queen frowns seeing an attendant make his way to her to whisper something in her ear. Her gaze suddenly flickers up to the main entrance and Seventh follows with her eyes but is unable to spot what she does from her raised seat.


    But soon the crowd begins to part, guests gasping as Mal, in sweeping black clothing, comes before the queen and king. Some of the fairies give Seventh a curious look but Seventh has no explanation. She can only witness with a pale face.


    With learned poise Mal takes an elegant bow, eyes flickering to the portrait for a second before speaking with a pleasant smile on his lips. ¡°What a wonderful ball you¡¯ve thrown.¡±


    The royals share a frightful look before the king responds. ¡°It is a pleasure¡­that you have been able to make it.¡±


    ¡°It seems my invitation was lost.¡±


    The smile fails to reach the queen¡¯s eyes as she says, ¡°Y-yes. Allow us to prepare you a seat.¡±


    An attendant hurries to the fairies¡¯ table to set down plates and silverware at the fairies¡¯ table and although they are gold they don¡¯t glisten with the same radiance.


    The king wrings his hands. ¡°The cook roasted the meat with exotic spices from¡ª¡±


    ¡°I bring a gift,¡± Mal cuts in.


    Murmurs wash over the guests like a wave tinged with curiosity but the queen does not allow relief to overtake her. Instead she maintains her cautious pleasantries upfront and says, ¡°My, how generous of you.¡±


    Seventh, however, knows better. ¡°Oh no¡­¡± she whispers. Dread squeezes her chest tight and she hopes that Mal is not as unforgiving as she believes.


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    ¡°Yes.¡± The smile doesn¡¯t leave Mal¡¯s face. ¡°To celebrate the birth of the princess, and the continuation of your wonderful bloodline. It¡¯s a gift that her great-great-grandfather once bestowed onto me.¡±


    This time Seventh attempts to get to Mal, shouting, ¡°Mal! Wait a mome¡ª¡±


    Mal pulls out the bound piece of wood and tosses it onto the floor. It rolls, the sound echoing in the now silent room. Everyone watches it until it comes to a stop. The thread pulses a soft glow.


    When Mal speaks again his voice booms throughout the entire castle, vestiges of his curse like spiders in each person¡¯s ear. ¡°I bestow an ending. By the night of her sixteenth birthday, before the dawn of a new day shines, she will prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die!¡±


    The wood trembles, cracks crescendoing into an explosion of black rose petals that rain down in the entire room. Everyone feels the wicked curse beneath their skin and shudders as Mal grins at the display of power. Then Mal laughs as justice at last is in his hands. The people snap into movement, dashing for the edges of the room in fear of the petals¡¯ touch. The queen jumps to her feet and though her command is swallowed by cries her finger pointing at Mal is enough. Guards rush forward with swords in hand but at the first strike Mal¡¯s body bursts into rose petals.


    Mal can¡¯t stop laughing as he suddenly appears back in his cave. Candle flames waver with his abrupt return. ¡°I did it! I really did it! For ignoring me, for neglecting me, it¡¯s what you deserve. The mighty king Phellious must be rolling in his grave! Oh how alive I feel.¡±


    Humming, he picks up a shade and twirls, dancing to his own tune. More shades gather around, lifting their arms up to be his next dance partner.


    ¡°Now, now. The night is long and the party young. Everyone will get a chance!¡±


    The front door suddenly bursts open and Seventh storms in. Her elegant gown embroidered with flowers by Mal¡¯s own hands is bunched in Seventh¡¯s trembling with rage. ¡°Mal! What have you done?¡±


    Mal continues dancing, spinning faster as the shade in his arms squeals with delight. ¡°Has the party ended so soon?¡±


    ¡°With the dreadful air you left behind? Ugh, no.¡± She pinches at her forehead. ¡°I didn¡¯t come to talk about that. Show me your roses.¡±


    Mal freezes mid step and whips his head towards her. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I knew it! You went and pulled out a rose. You know how long, how much effort, it was to nurture them! And you rip one out for¡­for¡­this curse! ¡°


    Sensing the argument the shade wiggles out of Mal¡¯s arms leaving Mal free to stomp to Seventh. ¡°You think I wanted these roses? Or this body? They had it coming.¡±


    ¡°But not at your expense!¡± Seventh drops her head into her hands and takes a long breath before making her confession. ¡°I undid it.¡±


    Anger drains from Mal¡¯s face and he bites at his pale lip. His hand slides up to his stomach to the hollowed dirt his rose once lived. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I had yet to bestow my gift.¡±


    His hand trembles and he grips at his robe. Then what did he rip out a rose for? What could fill this void in him if not revenge? If she undid it, it was almost like Seventh had ripped out that hole in him. He thought she understood him and how much pain those of the royal family had given him. ¡°You¡­why?¡± His voice quivers, unable to convey his hurt through words. ¡°You said you¡¯d be on my side.¡± He stumbles back a step. ¡°But even you as well¡ª¡±


    ¡°The princess will prick her finger on a spindle,¡± Seventh says, raising her head. ¡°I could not change that. But instead of dying she will sleep for a hundred years.¡±


    ¡°A hundred years,¡± Mal echoes. His body goes still and his arms drop at his side. There are too many emotions that he goes numb to try and process what she said. No, the princess won¡¯t die, but sleep instead.


    ¡°I hoped that would be enough for you.¡± Seventh closes the space between them and takes Mal¡¯s hands in hers. A gentle smile rises on her face, partly pleading, partly stern. ¡°Forget about humans. They are so fickle and young and so full of destruction. We aren¡¯t prosecuted only because we gift them our magic. But you¡­¡± She squeezes. ¡°they will never let you heal.¡±


    Mal slips his hands from hers only to throw them around her in a tight embrace. Seventh is the only one capable of healing him and her alteration only proves it. This is the justice the royals truly deserve and Seventh understands that. She understands him. ¡°You are the only one who still loves me!¡±


    Her hot breath tickles his neck as she scoffs. ¡°My Darling! Are you forgetting about the others?¡±


    ¡°And why are they not here?¡±


    ¡°You know how they are; the less involved in human affairs the better. Ah, but Fifth sent a message.¡± She pulls back and clears her throat to emulate Fifth¡¯s haughty tone, ¡°I applaud you for your dramatic entrance and stylistic choice of wardrobe.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she liked it?¡± Mal smooths down his clothes and spins to get another inspection of his outfit. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if my waistline¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not the time Darling. You all need to hurry up and pack!¡±


    Picking up on her urgent tone Mal stops, hands slightly up in preparation for whatever came next. ¡°Pack? What for?¡±


    ¡°You think the queen will do nothing? She¡¯ll send even the stable boys after you.¡±


    Mal frowns and cocks his head in befuddlement. ¡°But that¡¯s not how curses work. Even if I die or they burn every spinning wheel in the land, somehow, someway, a spinning wheel will find its way to the princess.¡±


    ¡°You think humans so rational. If you say you can''t undo it they¡¯ll kill you anyway and search for another solution.¡± Her voice softens with pity. ¡°It¡¯s all they can do.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, but,¡± Mal spreads his arms out to indicate at all of the shades that have gathered around them, ¡°where do I and my twenty-three children go?¡±


    Similarly Seventh gives them all a look over. Transporting and rehoming a family of twenty-four, twenty-three of whom once terrorized humanity, is not going to be so easy to accomplish. Seventh could take them in but her gardens are much too close to human towns. If one of her business partners sees them it¡¯d be all over. Florists are big gossipers after all. ¡°The mountain,¡± Seventh says after a moment of thought. ¡°That will have to do while I search for something more permanent. And please keep your children under control.¡±


    It is Mal¡¯s turn to scoff. ¡°What sort of parent do you think I am?¡± He claps his hands twice to get the shades¡¯ attention. ¡°We are moving! I need you each to pack only what you need. If you can¡¯t carry it then you can¡¯t take it. And I will say this now: we can¡¯t take the swing, and no live animals. And don¡¯t leave out your brush to fit your shiny rocks! Understood?¡±


    The shades cry in unison and dart off to pack. One shade carefully packs a teddy bear while another stuffs shiny rocks into every available pocket. Mal goes around his room looking at each tapestry, blanket, and embroidered decor that had been tossed aside for later without a thought, not knowing it wouldn¡¯t be picked up again. He goes through his clothes and packs simple clothing but when his fingers touch a certain red outfit he can¡¯t pry them away.


    Seventh comes up behind him and her eyes light up with recognition. ¡°And here I thought you didn¡¯t like that color. That dye was a tough one to get.¡±


    Mal runs his hands over the soft, unworn fabric. The red is vivid like roses in full bloom. Similar to the cloak he once made for a young prince and he hates remembering him. ¡°I¡¯ve never looked good in red,¡± he says. ¡°And there hasn¡¯t been a special occasion for it.¡±


    A firm hand rubs his arm before it reaches past him to pull out the outfit. ¡°Darling, you don¡¯t need some special occasion. Wait too long and you¡¯ll find it ruined by moths. Wear it once you have settled into your new home. I¡¯ve exhausted my magic but I will try to salvage what I can.¡± She folds it with care and passes it over to Mal.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Darling. I will always be on your side.¡±


    END SCENE

 5. INT. MISTRESS’ HIDDEN LODGE - MORNING

    The abandoned house is dark, with all the windows covered or boarded up. Once dazzling wallpaper now peels off the walls and the many layers of dust paint the furniture gray. Forgotten trinkets lay scattered and the decor is fashionable but it is clear the modest house has been neglected for years. The front door opens to reveal Mal¡¯s hooded silhouette in the bright morning light. He enters hesitantly, his steps waking light clouds of dust. He inspects with his eyes and keeps his hands close to his body. When he reaches the table he swipes his finger along the surface, grimaces, and wipes his finger on his robe.


    Mal pulls back his hood and frees his thorns. ¡°And no one knows about this place?¡±


    Behind him enters a tall, broad man. King Labos, with golden eyes that look down at the place with disdain, keeps his hands locked behind him as a trained soldier does. His black mustache wiggles on his lips before he speaks. ¡°Only I, my father, and the delivery boy we will be employing. Grandfather and his mistress already passed. It¡¯s close enough to the castle but there are enough trees to hide it.¡± He smirks. ¡°Only secrets lie here.¡±


    Mal continues to walk around the room. On one of the shelves a small frame lays face down and Mal picks it up. The young woman¡¯s portrait meets his eyes with no emotion on her beautiful face. Her skin is milky unlike that of King Labos and his kingdom, and in her lap sits a golden harp. Mal puts it down, unable to look at her any more. He turns back to King Labos. ¡°It certainly is a good hiding place¡­for me and my children.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± King Labos booms, almost shaking dust loose into the air. ¡°What do shades eat? Dead animals? Human flesh?¡± He waves his hand dismissively. ¡°Enough criminals the world can do without.¡±


    It¡¯s difficult not to sneer at that but Mal accomplishes it. ¡°We¡¯re vegan.¡±


    ¡°Ah, even better.¡±


    Mal moves further in to a furnished sitting room and stands over the fireplace, rolls his head back to the tapestry hanging over it. It has the image of a grand apple tree adorned by dulled red apples. ¡°Will we be safe here until the curse takes effect?¡±


    ¡°Queen Iremena would never suspect you here. Her greatest ally harboring her greatest enemy? Absurd.¡±


    Without turning back Mal replies as he takes the poker and nudges whatever remained of the logs, awakening a nest of baby spiders that disperse in all directions. ¡°And why would her greatest ally harbor her greatest enemy?¡±


    The prior confident voice of the king hums, quieting to a calculating, precise choice of words. ¡°I am a king, first and foremost. I have a kingdom to protect, as small as it may be in comparison.¡± There¡¯s a pause and his voice sounds closer, paces from Mal¡¯s back. ¡°The fairy said your curse would last a hundred years, that it may even be great enough to put the entire castle to sleep.¡±


    When Mal straightens up and faces the king he finds King Labos baring down at him, eyes gleeful like a scheming child. Mal backs away until he hits the stone fireplace. The air in the room thickens making it harder for Mal to gulp it down. He cannot do anything but listen to King Labos as his hidden plans finally have a chance to burst out.


    ¡°When Queen Iremena and all her kingdom¡¯s leaders are gone, I come in to provide support. Of course, I won¡¯t force the people under my rule, as I¡¯m sure they will want to wait for their true rulers. I and my bloodline will wait with them. Then, after those one hundred years pass, and it¡¯s a descendent of mine that wakes the pitiful princess and then marries her, why, won¡¯t that be the happiest of endings?¡±


    Mal swallows bile down his dry throat. ¡°Romantic indeed.¡±


    King Labos chuckles and backs off. He resumes his more aloof and loud persona. ¡°I am glad you see it that way. Now then, I¡¯ll leave you to get acquainted with the place before your¡­children and other supplies arrive. Whatever you don¡¯t like in here you can toss.¡± With an unfitting grin King Labos makes his exit, plunging Mal into silence.


    Alone at last, Mal lets his face contort into a sneer as he dusts off his clothing. King Labos jumped on this opportunity seemingly since Mal gave his curse. How humans govern themselves is no longer Mal¡¯s concern but to be used like this puts him in a bad mood. But there is nothing he can do, nor does he care about what happens once the princess falls under the curse. Mal¡¯s mind is preoccupied with how he¡¯ll survive the next ten years left to complete the curse, let alone think about what will come in the following hundred. Seventh told him this body was no longer human and therefore, not limited to a human lifespan. He¡¯ll die when his time comes just like anyone or anything else on this land.


    Feeling stifled, Mal goes to the closest window to pull back the old curtain but shrinks back. The blinding light strikes his eyes and he shuts the curtain with a scowl. ¡°Ugh, too bright.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what happens when you spend so much time in the dark,¡± a voice says behind him.


    Startled, Mal spins around to see Fifth on light feet as if simply standing there disgusted her. At her side stands Seventh, her nose wrinkled as she peers around the room, arms tight against her body. The surprise falls and irritation takes its place as Mal responds, ¡°You could¡¯ve shown up earlier.¡±


    Seventh, with her cautious hope, walks around the room to take account of what¡¯s been left for them. ¡°Well¡­King Labos is too¡­¡±


    ¡°Too much,¡± Fifth finishes. With the tips of her fingers she lifts up a book abandoned on a table and holds it at arm¡¯s length. ¡°And this place? Too little.¡±


    ¡°Nothing a little dusting can fix,¡± Seventh says. When she spots an empty vase her eyes light up. ¡°And some plants! A vase here, and maybe hang a vine from the ceiling. And bigger windows!¡± At her words the window suddenly expands, the curtains vanishing altogether. Mal and Fifth shield their eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight.


    The magic sets off a cloud of dust and Mal sneezes. He wipes his nose miserably. ¡°The cleaning can wait. Are my children safe?¡±


    In response, Fifth reaches under her skirt and after pulling out various items¡ªa broom, snacks, multiple books¡ªfinally pulls out a dollhouse. It¡¯s no bigger than a birdcage, two stories high with lilac walls and yellow accents. ¡°Right here,¡± she says and sets it down on the floor. Carefully she pinches the doorknob and turns it to open the front door. Delighted little shades the size of coins start pouring out. The moment their bodies exit the dollhouse they pop into their usual size and they disperse, curiosity shining bright in their eyes.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Mal starts counting them off with a single pat on their head, saying, ¡°Don¡¯t go off too far!¡±


    At the other end of the room Seventh continues her planning on her own. ¡°Yes. Some sunflowers will do nicely here¡­and a pretty little succulent here¡­¡±


    Fifth scoffs. ¡°Flowers and succulents? No, what this child needs are books. Let¡¯s fill this wall with bookshelves.¡± One wave and shelves pop out of a wall with bookends taking the shape of miniature spinning wheels.


    ¡°So he¡¯ll end up lost in hills of books like your place? What he needs is fresh air! Flowers to greet him each morning!¡±


    ¡°His mind needs nurturing!¡± Fifth collects the books she had pulled out of her skirt and begins setting them up on a shelf. ¡°Love poems for the heart. Adventures for the soul.¡± She wiggles her eyebrows as she puts away the last book. ¡°A raunchy read for a fun night.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s here is fine,¡± Mals says. ¡°Just magic up new curtains. What does any of the other stuff matter?¡±


    Both Seventh and Fifth stare at him, aghast, as they exclaim in unison. ¡°Other stuff?!¡±


    ¡°If you sit here in the dark you¡¯ll become another dusty chair!¡± Fifth says.


    Mal shrugs. ¡°If I turn into a bed, even better.¡±


    Seventh tries a kinder approach. ¡°And what of your craft? New tapestries, doilies? You don¡¯t even sound excited about spinning a new thread for a curtain!¡±


    Mal hugs himself but quickly switches to cross his arms instead. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­I don¡¯t know. I just want to lie in bed and not think about anything.¡±


    The other two fairies share a look before Seventh comes to his side and gently rubs his back. ¡°Are you tired, my Darling?


    ¡°Very much so¡­everything is too much. I dread every morning and dread every night. I¡¯m unweaving.


    Fifth lets out a sigh and likewise comforts Mal with soft pats on his shoulder. Then she gives Seventh a nod for her to commence. ¡°If you are tired, my Darling, well, we¡¯ll share a bit of our insight.¡± She clears her throat. ¡°There are days I find myself stuck in the muck of misery. Weighed down, depressed, thinking: why is joy such a mystery?¡±


    Fifth adds, ¡°And days I can¡¯t stand the world beyond my blanket. My favorite foods all taste so bland and I think: Am I living in a casket?¡±


    ¡°On those days¡­¡± Seventh laments.


    ¡°Those bad, ugly days¡­¡± Fifth bemoans.


    ¡°I tell myself¡­¡± Seventh makes a fist and when she unfurls her fingers a pretty pink carnation blooms into life. She offers it to Mal and says, ¡°I¡¯m a flower.¡±


    Mal picks it up and twirls it by the stem. ¡°A flower?¡±


    Fifth gives Mal a quick inspection and clicks her tongue. ¡°In the midst of winter, looks like.¡±


    After sending Fifth a stern look she quickly regains her smile for Mal. ¡°If being a person feels like too much, become the stem that holds a bud.¡±


    After attempting to and failing to pinch Seventh, Fifth grins at Mal. ¡°Every flower needs love and care and then I think: that much I can bare.¡±


    Unable to keep looking at the beautiful flower Mal drops his hands. ¡°What if I¡¯m a weed?¡±


    ¡°Even weeds fight for their right to bloom,¡± Fifth says.


    ¡°Now, Darling Mal, what does a flower need to bloom?¡±


    Mal huffs and gives in to the fairies¡¯ game and answers, ¡°Water?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Take a drink and take a shower!¡± Seventh gives Mal an encouraging wave to answer again.


    ¡°And light?¡±


    With a wave of Fifth¡¯s hand the boards on another window poof out of existence. ¡°Opened windows on the hour.¡±


    Mal¡¯s face softens and answers a third time. ¡°Dirt!¡±


    Seventh grabs a broom and starts sweeping away dirt and trash. ¡°Clean home that¡¯s free of clunk.¡±


    This time, Mal scrunches his brow as he offers, ¡°And the worms?¡±


    Fifth passes out dusters and rags to the shades, exclaiming, ¡°That¡¯s us that clear the junk!¡±


    Flowers can¡¯t bloom in the dark,¡± Seventh says. ¡°And no flower is ever unloved. On days when being you feels too hard,¡± she takes hold of Mal¡¯s hands to take the flower back again, ¡°become the flower beloved.¡±


    ¡°The blossoms on a tree,¡± Fifth says.


    ¡°Dandelions on a weed,¡± Seventh says.


    ¡°Tulip whose color adorns,¡± Fifth says.


    Seventh raises the pink flower and tucks it behind Mal¡¯s ear. ¡°And yes, the rose amongst its thorns.¡±


    The fairies each take one of Mal¡¯s hands and lead him to the sunshine beneath the window, saying, ¡°Be the flower that blooms in the light. The one that won¡¯t give up the fight.¡±


    Seventh squeezes. ¡°In the same way you¡¯d love a flower, love yourself with that same power.¡±


    Mal looks out into the small clearing outside this strange new home and breathes, feeling his roses sway with the warm air. A gentle breeze sifts through his thorns and he shivers slightly at the cool touch. Life in the mountains wasn¡¯t difficult. In fact, it was easy. So much so that Mal didn¡¯t know what to do with the time. Once the rush of revenge subsided, nothing he did brought out emotion. Spinning, dying, embroidering, he¡¯d barely start when he grew tired of it and went to bed. Now, he can¡¯t recall the last time he stood in the sun and just¡­be. For once his heart feels at ease and he basks in it. Except¡­this gnawing thought creeps forwards slowly. He has no lungs to fill, no skin to feel the warm sun. There has been no sign of a third rose growing to replace the one he lost. ¡°But what if¡­¡± he says.


    Fifth scowls. ¡°What now? Spit it out!¡±


    ¡°What if I still can¡¯t bloom?¡±


    Again, the two fairies share a look and they puff up their chests with pleased grins. ¡°Well, what do you think a gardener¡¯s for?¡±


    ¡°An expert gardener.¡± Seventh says.


    ¡°A magical gardener.¡± Fifth adds.


    ¡°Some flowers need help and that¡¯s fine too. I¡¯ll love you enough for the two of us because I¡¯ll never give up on you.¡±


    At last a smile forms on Mal¡¯s lips and he caresses the pink flower by his cheek. ¡°Be a flower, huh?¡± He chuckles. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too hard with the literal flowers growing in me.¡±


    Seventh gives him a warning look. ¡°Those roses are you. Don¡¯t forget, if those roses wither or you lose them, you¡¯ll lose yourself.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know.¡±


    ¡°Could have fooled me,¡± Fifth pipes in.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll clean and take whatever hand-me-downs you have. I wouldn¡¯t sleep in this mess anyway.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my Darling! Lose one more rose and I¡¯m potting you.¡±


    ¡°Yes yes.¡±


    Seven and Fifth split up, recruiting the shades along the way, to clean up different areas of the house. Mal turns back to the window and holds out a hand in the sunlight. ¡°I¡¯ll grow back my rose. Once my revenge is complete dozens more will grow.¡± He looks up at the sky with a taunting smirk. ¡°Won¡¯t that be wonderful, Phellious?¡±


    END SCENE

 6. INT. PRINCESS’ CASTLE - EVENING

    The grand ballroom is marvelously and lavishly decorated for the young princess¡¯ 16th birthday. Fairy lights float along the ceiling, some clinking against the bulbous chandeliers or bumping into the colorful streamers of quality silk that hang down over the heads of the invited. Every guest dons their most extravagant outfit as they converse with glasses in hand or pluck food off the pass trays. The atmosphere is joyous, celebratory, but there are a couple here and there that whisper between each other and look around in fear. With no word of the vanished Eighth Fairy most have forgotten the curse but there are always the cautious. The Queen and King stand at the edge of the celebration smiling and greeting the guests while they whisper to one another in between.


    ¡°Maybe we should end it now,¡± the king whispers, worried wrinkles appearing on his brow the moment the guest walks off. ¡°Close the gates and have every guard search under every bed!¡±


    The queen does a better job of maintaining her poised smile as she whispers back, ¡°Now Dear. You know she¡¯s tougher than that. And we have guards and¡­¡± she leans closer to him, ¡°the you-know-what all over the outer walls.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±


    They greet another guest and wave them along to the drinks and food, the queen hissing through her teeth, ¡°The spells Dear.¡±


    ¡°Right. The spells.¡± He smiles, but then it wavers again. ¡°But are they safe? Was the magicker we hired reliable?¡±


    ¡°Yes. My grandfather fostered relationships with a selected number of magickers, those that¡¯d agreed to aid for amnesty. We were doing so well in bringing back magic, good magic, and then this happens with one of the fairies¡­¡±


    ¡°It was that servant that stole the gold plates!¡±


    The queen shakes her head. ¡°It was our oversight. But we are here now. Labos¡¯ forces are here and the spells are up and no thief or magicker¡ªor fairy, or witch¡ªwill pass our gates.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Love. The day is almost done and not a sound from him these sixteen years.¡± He scans the crowd, his scowl deepening when he doesn¡¯t find the reason for the party. ¡°That girl, even though I pleaded with her not to run off on her own.¡±


    Near him is a closed door to the hallway alone and forgotten. The hallway, mainly for the servants, is kept dim and the king¡¯s voice is hardly more than a murmur. However, a young girl passing by pauses upon hearing the familiar voice and she places her ear against the door.


    The queen sighs and does her own scan, though not as distressed. ¡°Vespera must have gone out for a breath. She¡¯ll be safe so long as she¡¯s within the castle walls.¡±


    ¡°Still, Vespera must be here to greet the guests! We must find her at once!¡±


    The young princess, with pitch black hair bound in golden clasps, and honey-brown eyes, wrinkles her nose at that. ¡°I¡¯ve greeted everyone twice! Is that not so, Daisy?¡±


    The raven perched on her shoulder ruffles her feathers and caws.


    Vespera assumes a high-pitched voice and proceeds to talk for her friend. ¡°It¡¯s so hot in there it¡¯s hard to breathe!¡±


    Then she nods and resumes speaking in her normal voice. ¡°Precisely! And to reward ourselves and to really celebrate my birthday, I say we stop by the kitchen for a bit of cake and enjoy it quietly.¡±


    Daisy cries out in agreement, eager for any excuse to enter the kitchen.


    Just as they are about to march off a voice comes up behind them, making them both jump.


    ¡°Sneaking off already, little princess?¡±


    King Labos steps out of the darkness into the soft glow of the torch on the wall. He keeps his hands clasped at his back, a toothy grin on his face.


    Vespera places a hand over her fast heartbeat. ¡°O-oh! King Labos.¡±


    King Labos¡¯ armor glistens in the firelight like his eyes that are trained on the princess. Until they spot Daisy and his grin wavers. ¡°Still have that bird with you? Be careful. Crows are symbols of misfortune and death.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Vespera scratches Daisy beneath her beak to Daisy¡¯s delight. ¡°A good thing Daisy is a raven. Why, I raised her myself after she¡¯d fallen out of her nest so I know she¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­And what is the good bird and her good mother doing out here?¡±


    Vespera¡¯s eyes shine with mischief. ¡°We¡¯re sneaking into the kitchen.¡±


    For a moment King Labos stares at her before he chuckles. ¡°What an honest young lady. But¡­¡± He leans closer to her to share a secret. ¡°I know some more interesting places.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    He has her attention instantly as she gets closer. ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The tower.¡±


    Hearing this the princess straightens up again, hands on her hips, and she huffs. ¡°Everyone knows about the tower. Ever since King Phellious sealed it away no one¡¯s been allowed in. Not even Mother.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. All true. But while I was visiting the kitchen I overheard the most insightful prattle. A maid will be cleaning it up tonight, while everyone¡¯s busy at the party.¡±


    For a second only the muffled music of the party next door is heard. Vespera¡¯s face twitches in contained emotion as she says, ¡°Is that so?¡± She turns aside as if uninterested but she excitedly whispers to Daisy. ¡°We can finally find out what¡¯s in there!¡± Then she clears her throat and addresses King Labos with her regal attitude. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in the slightest. Now, we¡¯ll be busy visiting the kitchen to¡­test the cake for poison.¡±


    King Labos bows. ¡°Of course, little princess. I do hope everything turns out well.¡±


    Vespera returns the gesture before she heads down the hallway, her steps even and poised. But as soon as she turns the corner and checks that she and Daisy aren¡¯t being followed, she makes a dash for the tower. ¡°Can you imagine Daisy? Of all nights, tonight¡¯s when the tower room will be opened. What a wonderful birthday gift! If it truly holds some of King Phelious¡¯ secrets we might find out how he got rid of all those shades. He must have used magic. Or maybe a magical beast. What if we find a dragon in there? We could become friends!¡±


    Vespera races up the stairs and pauses at the slightly opened door. Breathing hard she turns to Daisy with a wide grin and pushes through. A single light illuminates a portion of the room surrounding the worn table. A layer of dust coats the little furniture in the room, many of the strange contraptions having gone years without being touched.


    She comes across a mannequin wearing a single red cloak. She touches the hem, running her fingers along the golden embroidery. As old as the cloak appears Vespera is impressed by the quality and vivid color even in the soft glow of the lantern, but her attention is soon drawn away by a spinning wheel. Intrigued, she walks towards it, her hand about to touch it when¡­


    ¡°Old, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Vespera jumps and clutches at her chest as she whirls around, searching for the source of the voice. When she spots an old maid holding a candle she clears her throat and composes herself. ¡°H-hello.¡±


    The old maid¡¯s features are difficult to see with her bonnet and collared blouse. But her smile is visible enough as she asks, ¡°Young lady, what brings you all the way up here?¡±


    Vespera eases into the soft tone of the old maid¡¯s voice and relaxes. ¡°Well, the door was opened and I wanted to take a peek.¡± She turns her attention back to the spinning wheel. ¡°What is this?¡±


    The old maid comes around to it. ¡°This old thing? Why, it¡¯s a spinning wheel!¡±


    ¡°What does it do?¡±


    ¡°I used to spin thread on it many years ago.¡±


    ¡°It makes thread?¡± Vespera thinks about it for a moment. ¡°I suppose I never thought about where thread comes from.¡±


    The candlelight wavers as the old maid moves before the wheel. Her wrinkled, knobbed fingers touch the wheel and with a gentle push she spins it. ¡°It comes from something like this. I spun the thread, my mother dyed it, and then we¡¯d embroider fabrics with it. Beautiful gowns and robes and cloaks.¡± She snickers as she shares a secret. ¡°There were rumors we used magic.¡±


    Vespera¡¯s eyes go wide. ¡°Did you?¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little.¡± She gives the wheel another push and watches it spin and spin like her memories of bygone days. Then she brushes down her apron. ¡°But that was many, many years ago. All forgotten now.¡±


    ¡°How could anyone forget magical gowns? I¡¯d never forget.¡±


    The old maid laughs. ¡°Why remember when you¡¯re allowed to forget. When you¡¯re so young, any promise or pledge today will seem like a dream years from now. What is this tiny slice of time against years of happiness and fruition?¡±


    But Vespera is more hopeful as young people often are. ¡°Still, some things should never be forgotten.¡±


    ¡°You have a point. Then would you like to come closer to have a look? To remember our history.¡±


    The creaking wheel continues to spin with a rhythmic beat. Vespera approaches and starts feeling the tool, running her fingers along the wood. When her hands go to a chipped protrusion the old maid comes to stand beside her.


    ¡°Be careful, child. Looks like the tip is chipped.¡±


    ¡°Is it broken?¡±


    ¡°See this part here? It¡¯s snapped off. It¡¯s where all the magic was.¡± Carelessly the old maid taps the jagged tip, huffs, and starts looking around on the floor. ¡°Where has it gone?¡±


    Vespera¡¯s eyes are mesmerized by the idea of magic. She reaches forward for the tip but Daisy hops onto the spinning wheel and spreads her wings.


    ¡°Tch, Daisy! I only want to check if there¡¯s any magic left.¡±


    ¡°Be careful not to prick your finger,¡± the old maid says as she keeps searching.


    ¡°Oh, I wo¡ª¡±


    Distracted, Aurora reaches out and accidentally pricks her finger. Without a chance to even blink she falls onto the floor, asleep. Daisy drops soon after, her wing blanketing a black shoe where the Old Maid¡¯s dress once draped over.


    ¡°Silly girl,¡± Mal says as he removes the bonnet and his strands of thorns spill down. He prods the raven¡¯s wing before pulling back his foot, accessing the situation. ¡°You too? My rose is more thorough than I thought.¡±


    He stands back and waits for something. For elation, relief, but none of it comes. Instead he is flooded by memories, a time in his life he¡¯ll never get back, a family he¡¯ll never see again. His home, his workshop, was sealed in time and he knows no one resided in there after his mother. He finds remnants of her habits throughout the room: the spools disorganized in corners, a basket of scraps beneath the table. Her precious plate painted with little apples is in its place on the cabinet and he can still recall her eating her slice of apple pie off of it.


    Eventually he stands before the red cloak and he remembers the young boy that snuck into the tower so long ago. His laughter seems to echo still, haunting Mal with a happiness he can¡¯t feel. His hand reaches for the cloak but he can¡¯t bring himself to touch it. His outstretched hand trembles and his eyes well up with tears. ¡°A spinster you betrayed¡­¡± he murmurs. ¡°Left me alone and so afraid. Despite your words of love for me¡­¡± The tears turn hot and he suddenly grasps the cloak and buries his face into the mannequin''s chest. ¡°You still left me to decay.


    His voice cracks as his grief at last crawls out from the depths of his being and out his throat. ¡°Why Phellious?¡± he sobs. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you come back for me?¡±


    END SCENE

 7. INT. THE TOWER - AFTERNOON

    FLASHBACK


    In the four years they have been living in the tower, Mal and his mother turned their room completely their own. Though the layout saw little changes, not much of it is visible under the mountains of plain fabric. New furniture spilling out supplies and clothing, bundles of dyed thread hanging from the wall, the room is a near maze-like with carefully laid out paths to navigate through. Mal works the spinning wheel, humming lightly in tune to his mother¡¯s metonomic pace at the loom. Phellious sits beside him on a stool eating an apple and tapping his foot to the melody. Then he leans into Mal¡¯s ear and whispers something, making Mal giggle. The swift sliding of wood across taunt thread stops. Mother raises an eyebrow at them. ¡°Boys. Do I need to separate you two again?¡±


    Phellious drops the grin and bows his head. ¡°I apologize, Miss Marova.¡±


    Mother resumes her work with quick, expert hands. ¡°If we don¡¯t finish your outfit in time for your birthday, the one Mal chose to take charge of, well, what would the king think of his reputation?¡±


    This time Phellious goes a little pink in the cheeks. ¡°I¡¯ll behave, Ma''am.¡±


    Mal slows down his spinning to give Phellious a slight jab to his side. He winks before addressing his mother. ¡°He was telling me about the apples from the garden. The cook said if we picked a few for her she¡¯d make us an apple pie.¡±


    Mother¡¯s eyebrow twitches but doesn¡¯t stop her hands. ¡°An apple pie, you say?¡±


    Mal similarly continues his spinning, his tone nonchalant. ¡°I¡¯m ahead in my work, so I hoped to pick them today, before they¡¯re overripe.¡±


    His mother takes a step back to get a better perspective of her work, then looks to the window to measure the sunlight. ¡°Well, we have been at it all morning. A break wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea.¡±


    Phellious is quick to take the opportunity. He clears his throat and does his best to maintain a leveled voice. ¡°If he can go with me now, we can have the pie ready for dinner.¡±


    The two boys gulp under her scrutinizing eyes but then she breaks character and laughs. ¡°Alright. He can go apple picking. I¡¯ll use the peace and quiet to finish this.¡±


    Mal and Phellious grin at one another and dash to the door. Phellious grabs Mal¡¯s hood for him and dons it on him before Phellious dons on his own. The two then hurry down the stairs. Phellious throws back his head and his laugh echoes. ¡°To use your own mother¡¯s weakness!¡±


    ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn to convince the cook to make us an apple pie.¡±


    ¡°Easy. She adores me!¡±


    They reach the bottom of the staircase where Mal shakes his head. ¡°To be so adored.¡±


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    ¡°But you are.¡± Phellious comes around Mal to find his cheek hidden by the hood and gives him a peck. ¡°By me,¡± he says with a grin, and without giving Mal a chance to retort, moves past him to hold the door open. Mal tugs down his hood lower to hide his giddy smile, not willing to give Phellious the satisfaction of his reaction.


    The two exit the castle, eyes constantly looking around any corner to avoid any people in their path. They snicker and tease one another the entire way, Mal suddenly pushing Phellious out into the open and then running away giggling when Phellious chases him.


    At the edge of the well curated garden are a few apple trees in a curve that work as a boundary, a vast meadow and pond beyond them. But all they see is the juicy red apples weighing down the branches. Mal picks those on the ground and Phellious climbs the short trunk for the ones just out of reach. They pile them on Phellious¡¯ brown cape and once the pile is large enough they take a break and sit by the roots of a tree. Sweet juice dribbles down Mal¡¯s chin and he salivates for the pie they¡¯ll be eating later. Phellious, on the other hand, stares ahead, lost in his thoughts with his half eaten apple on his lap.


    A cool breeze brushes past them and birds tweet above them. Mal tosses the core into the open and soon a rabbit appears to finish off the rest. Mal hugs his knees and watches it, content with the quiet, the peace.


    ¡°I heard we might lose the apple grove to the shades.¡±


    Mal turns to Phellious at his soft, doleful voice. Right, the shades. Despite their tranquility in this garden of the royal family, the shades run rampant beyond their safe little world. And they are approaching.


    ¡°Are they that close?¡±


    Phellious nods and tosses what¡¯s left of his apple to the rabbit. ¡°The town at the edge of the canyon has been abandoned already. The shades are getting desperate. With less and less magic they¡¯re going for any town they find.¡± His honey eyes focus on the rabbit bite into the apple. ¡°It¡¯s getting harder to hold them back.¡±


    Mal holds his knees tighter, his nails digging into his pants until they¡¯re white. ¡°What if they¡¯re coming for me? For Mother?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t let them.¡± Warm hands grasp Mal¡¯s and he looks up at Phellious kneeling over him. His usual teasing and carefree expression is serious and Mal finally sees the little details, dark undereyes, tight shoulders. And yet Phellious¡¯ confidence doesn¡¯t waver. ¡°They will never breach the castle. Even if the witch that created them is dead, we can still find a way to kill them. We know they seek magic and feed off misery. Maybe we can lure them away into a trap. Father says we don¡¯t have enough magic roses to build a big enough border but¡­¡±


    ¡°Have you told your father about your ideas?¡±


    Phellious scoffs and slumps back down against the tree trunk. ¡°He keeps brushing me away, saying he¡¯s busy with planning and meetings. But the longer we wait the more people will suffer.¡± He leans his head back. ¡°For my kingdom, for the people that give me everything, I have to give back. I have to protect everyone.¡±


    Mal knows when Phellious has something to say. He can see the gears spinning in Phellious¡¯ head and waits patiently for him to share. Phellious bites his lip and then slowly starts to reveal what is on his mind. ¡°Father keeps a few magical items locked in his study. I went through it and found a strong sleeping potion. It¡¯s supposed to work on anything so it has to have an effect on the shades. If they can be lured away and tricked into taking it¡­¡±


    Phellious meet¡¯s Mal¡¯s eyes. ¡°If the two of us worked together¡­¡±


    Impossible. If knights and magickers were unable to stop the shades, how will they? But Mal¡¯s fear and uncertainty diminishes at Phelliou¡¯s courage. Mal reaches for it and squeezes Phellious¡¯ hand. ¡°We can save the kingdom,¡± he finishes.


    Phellious nods. ¡°I have a plan¡­¡±


    END OF ACT I

 8. INT. MAL’S ROOM - AFTERNOON

    ACT II


    Bright sunlight peeks through the gap in the thick curtains where only dust sways. The slim beam of light pierces the darkness like a sword, creeping upwards until it reaches a shade¡¯s face. Her slumbering expression contorts in discomfort and she rearranges her small body in the pile of other sleeping shades on the bed. Similar piles of tangled bodies are spread throughout the bedroom on the floor, squeezed on an armchair, or bundled on a rug. A shade slumbers in a pot hanging from the ceiling and another is draped over a bookcase. The bed itself is a jumble of shades, blankets, and Mal beneath it all with only a hand sticking out.  All that echoes is the symphony of light snores and the occasional shifting bodies.


    A loud knock interrupts the silence. Seventh¡¯s voice calls out from the other side of the door as impatient as her knocking. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there!¡±


    Mal grumbles and buries himself deeper, his hand devoured into the void.


    Another voice calls out to him, a gentler one. ¡°Sweetie, I think you¡¯ve been sleeping long enough. How about spending some time with us today?¡±


    ¡°Don''t be so easy on him,¡± Seventh hisses at Third. ¡°This is the fourth time this week!¡±


    ¡°But what if he¡¯s having a nice dream?¡±


    ¡°That is exactly the point!¡± Again, Seventh raises her voice. ¡°Mal, we¡¯re coming in!¡±


    Seventh bursts in with her peeved eyes scanning the state of the room. Her frown grows deeper with every new detail she picks out. Trash and dishes are strewn about, and dirty clothing drapes over the spinning wheel. And the smell, Seventh stomps through to the window but seeing the withering flower on the sill is the last straw and she storms straight to the bed instead. Third watches meekly at the door swaying from foot to foot, unable to decide if it would be rude to enter without being invited in first. At the bed Seventh immediately starts digging through the shades.


    ¡°It is morning¡ªNo, past morning, and you need to get some sunlight.¡±


    Once she finds Mal¡¯s arm she grasps it and tugs with all her strength. ¡°Right,¡± she huffs and pulls. ¡°Now.¡±


    Mal falls in a heap on the floor, half asleep and grumpy though he does not attempt to fight back. ¡°Good morning¡­¡± he mumbles.


    ¡°The morning has passed.¡±


    Her stern words don¡¯t phase Mal who sits up and lays his head on the low bed, eyes closed. ¡°Then might as well get ready for bed tonight.¡±


    Finally making her decision, Third maneuvers through the room with light movements, lifting her skirt as she steps over the sleeping shades on tiptoes. ¡°Sweetie, I didn¡¯t give you Sweet Dreams so you can ignore your real life.¡±


    At her voice, Mal perks up. He didn¡¯t realize Third accompanied Seventh and his body tenses. He¡¯d have shoved the mess into a closet, pretending that he is more put together. Shame colors his cheeks and he looks aside. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°And your children!¡± Seventh exclaims.


    They all look around them at the lethargic shades who slumber on undisturbed. Seventh plucks one off the bed and holds her up, the shade¡¯s head lolling from side to side in her half-sleep. ¡°Look at her! She¡¯s always been so full of energy.¡± A sniff and Seventh keeps the shade at arm¡¯s length. ¡°When¡¯s the last time she¡¯s bathed?¡±


    Third covers her nose with the back of her hand in an attempt to remain polite. She sits on her knees and rubs Mal¡¯s shoulder with her other hand. ¡°Are the dreams really helping?¡±


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    Dismissing the question would be easy. Mal can lie and say the dreams helped, that he had it under control. Because only in his dreams, where he returned to his life in the tower, did he feel anything. Happiness, excitement, satisfaction, even anxiety as someone tried on the clothes he created, or disappointment when a midnight meeting fell through, Mal prefers that to numbness.


    He takes back the shade from Seventh and rocks her against his chest. Seventh is right. All of his children were energetic, and the house was always filled with pittering footsteps. But now¡­Mal looked around the room, his children listless and groggy, and something inside him droops. He has no heart that tightens, no lungs that compact, but he feels the pain of shame and regret all the same. ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know,¡± he says with his eyes on the floor. ¡°But in my dreams, I¡¯m not¡­like this. I¡¯m back in my life before the cave¡­¡±


    Seventh and Third soften at his broken voice and kneel at his sides. Third brushes Mal¡¯s thorns aside and lifts his head up to meet her eyes. ¡°Sweetie, Sweet Dreams are a respite, a brief rest to give you the strength to go on another day. But they¡¯re fueling your regrets rather than your ambitions; they¡¯re draining you.¡±


    Panic seizes Mal. He clutches the pretty stone hanging from his neck at the thought of an endless numbness. ¡°Will you take it away?¡± he whispers.


    Third sighs and glances at Seventh who nods with fervor. Turning back to Mal, Third holds out her hand. Mal¡¯s eyes glisten with tears but with a trembling hand, he removes the stone and returns it. Third then rolls it between her fingers before pinching at the middle, thinning the stone like clay until it splits into two. ¡°I¡¯ll give you back half,¡± she says.


    Seventh gapes at her decision, yelling out her disapproval. ¡°But¡ª


    ¡°And the other half,¡± Third continues with a mischievous smile at Seventh, ¡°I want you to give it to the princess.¡±


    ¡°The princess?¡± Mal asks.


    ¡°Yes. I want you to check up on her, and make sure she is having nice dreams. Simply lay this stone on her chest, tap yours to hers, and take a little nap.¡±


    Mal stares down blankly at the stone half the size it once was. Although he repeats Third¡¯s instructions over and over in his mind he still can¡¯t comprehend them. ¡°You want me to visit her dreams?¡±


    ¡°You still have the connected doorway, do you not? Visit her dreams to confirm they are not all nightmares. As a Fairy, you have to be responsible for what you put out in the world, especially if it is a curse. Or you¡¯ll end up like the one who created the shades.¡± She then takes the shade off of Mal¡¯s hands. ¡°The two of us will tidy up and bathe your sweet children.¡±


    Seventh is quick to jump on and waves Mal off. ¡°Yes yes, check on her.¡± At Mal¡¯s suspicious silence, she narrows her eyes at him. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve left her on the floor these seventeen years.¡±


    Mal looks away. ¡°Of course not¡­¡±


    Third and Seventh usher Mal towards the back of the room where a shallow alcove is curtained off. Seventh draws it back to reveal a door on the wall. Mal¡¯s hand grips the knob but doesn¡¯t turn it. He saw no reason to visit the very person he cursed. But if there is a chance Third allows him to keep Sweet Dreams, and Mal swears to himself that he¡¯ll be more careful with it, then he has to take it.


    Mal pushes the door open and steps into the tower of the princess¡¯ castle. Once he shuts the door behind him he finds himself engulfed by silence. ¡°Why me?¡± he laments as he moves forward in a room equally as abandoned as he was. His feet take him to the spinning wheel and he spins it. Spiderweb snaps off and flutters in the air like loose threads. The sound unravels memories and snippets of recent dreams and, overwhelmed, his hand shoots out to bring the wheel to a sudden stop. His tense shoulders tremble but before he can make his cowardly escape his eyes fall over the sleeping princess by the spinning wheel. She¡¯s sprawled out, drool slipping down the side of her mouth. Daisy sleeps by her head, her wings outstretched.


    That¡¯s right. Mal is here to check on her. If he gives up now and Seventh sees her on the floor he¡¯ll hear about it for years. So he grits his teeth and picks up the princess off the floor. He struggles to carry her up the steps to the loft. ¡°Why¡­are you¡­so heavy?¡± he complains in between breaths. When he reaches the top he drops her on the sheets, releasing a cloud of dust around them. After mulling over the thought he goes back for Daisy and plops her on the bed too. ¡°There,¡± he says, wiping his hands of the whole ordeal.


    Next, Mal places one of the stones on her chest and taps his against it. A hollowed, echoing ring resonates around them. Then he grabs a chair and settles in, grumbling to himself all the while. ¡°Just a quick peek and I can go back to my own dreams.¡±


    At this point he¡¯s mastered the art of falling asleep. All he has to do is lean his head back and close his eyes. He concentrates on his breath, each one deeper and heavier than the last. And then he is gone from the wakened world and enters the world of dreams.

 9. EXT. VESPERA’S DREAMLAND

    A serene warmth basks his body and what was a hard seat is now cushioned. Light permeates his eyelids and Mal knows he¡¯s in a dream. His soul aches for the faces alive only in dreams but when he opens his eyes he is met with a scrutinizing gaze inches from his. Mal yelps in surprise and tumbles backward in his seat. Grand auroras dance in the morning skies and Mal stares, dumbfounded, at the fishes swimming in the colored streams. Twittering birds sing around him, melodies accompanied by great roars of dragons somewhere in the distance.


    Mal rolls off the chair and stands up to see the vast meadow where trees are thicker than carriages and twist upwards with windows and doors and stone roads connecting them. And amongst these strange homes are remnants of human structures, stone rooms, and hallways as if someone took apart a castle and spread out the pieces. And in the center of this world is a tiny round tea table from which Mal had appeared seated in front.


    The girl makes her way to her seat opposite Mal and sits, her honey eyes never leaving Mal. She rests her chin on her interlocked fingers, not moving in the slightest even when her raven swoops from nowhere to land on her shoulder.


    They are silent for a long while until Vespera says quite simply, ¡°I didn¡¯t conjure you here.¡±


    Of all the things she could¡¯ve said, Mal did not expect that. He did not expect to talk to her at all, just take a peep at what she is up to and leave. Now that he is confronted by the very person he cursed all he manages to say is, ¡°I¡¯m, uh¡­passing through.¡±


    Vespera tilts her head. ¡°So you aren¡¯t here to wake me up?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Well, I am dreaming, am I not?¡± When Mal doesn¡¯t respond she leans back and waves her hand in the air as she talks. ¡°I overheard my nanny talking with a servant once. They were arguing if, when my curse put me to sleep for a hundred years, I¡¯d age or not. Father told me it was all nonsense but I never saw them again after that.¡± She shrugs and leans back in her chair, her legs stretched and splayed out unladylike. ¡°I¡¯ve forgotten about that until recently.¡±


    Mal picks up the chair and takes a seat and though he remains straight and proper, he can¡¯t help but fiddle with his thumbs clasped on the tabletop. ¡°And what makes you think this is a dream?¡±


    To prove her point Vespera snaps her fingers and a ten-layered cake explodes into existence on the table. Then it leans to the side until it topples off, each layer splitting and rolling away like wheels. ¡°Because everything I want to happen, happens.¡± She slams her palms on the table in exasperation. ¡°But it¡¯s so boring now! I¡¯ve done everything already. Mister, how long has it been?¡±


    ¡°¡­Seventeen years.¡±


    ¡°Seventeen! That means I still have¡­¡± She counts on her fingers. ¡°Eighty-three! I¡¯ll die of boredom first!¡±


    Daisy hops onto the table and slumps just like her companion.


    Mal looks between the two of them and can¡¯t help but ask, ¡°You¡¯re not scared?¡±


    Vespera sits back up and snaps, making a clear, diamond coin appear which she rolls back and forth along her knuckles. ¡°I was at first. But Daisy¡¯s here with me so I assume my family is sleeping somewhere too. If they¡¯re with me when I wake up, even after a hundred years, I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Mal huffs. ¡°Of course you will be.¡±


    ¡°So, who are you, Mister?¡±


    How unfair it all is. Mal woke up all alone but the princess gets to have her parents. He crosses his arms and answers, ¡°The one who cursed you.¡±


    The coin stops and Vespera settles her gaze at him. There¡¯s no anger, no anguish, but her gaze is piercing all the same. ¡°Are you?¡± She says and sets the coin down, sliding it around with her finger. ¡°How did I ever offend you so?¡±


    Mal puffs up his chest. ¡°It is Phellious¡¯ offense. As are your parents¡¯.¡±


    A fragile tension festers between them. Although Mal hangs on to his feigned calm demeanor, in actuality he is tense, body wound up as he prepares for her outburst. But the princess retains her cool attitude.


    She leans forward. ¡°My great-great-grandfather and my parents offend you, yet you curse me?¡±


    Mal leans back. ¡°W-well¡­¡±


    ¡°I, a sweet young lady, who has done nothing to you other than be birthed by my mother who, along with my father, have offended you, is cursed? I, an innocent little flower?¡±


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    ¡°But they¡ª¡±


    Vespera stands with enough force to knock over her seat. Daisy flaps her wings and caws, prepared to fight. ¡°The cowardice! The audacity! To strike a helpless, beautiful babe such as I for the offense of her forefathers! You, Mister, offend me!¡±


    She stalks around the table, stomping her way to Mal as she talks until she has him cornered in his seat. Her words strike him, the truth in her reasoning like a weight that keeps Mal immobile and mute. ¡°And for offending me,¡± she continues, ¡°now I shall curse you.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Mal¡¯s eyes focus on her raised hand fully expecting a violent retribution. But when her hand comes down it is not in a slap nor a snap of her fingers. She points at him instead. ¡°Teach me.¡±


    Her command hangs in the air as Mal tries to wrap his head around such an absurd thing. ¡°Teach you? Teach you what?¡±


    Vespera throws her hands in the air. ¡°Anything. Everything! The curse can¡¯t be broken; I will be stuck here for a hundred years.¡±


    ¡°But you can create whatever you want.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not the same¡­¡± She taps her finger against her lip in deep thought before she turns to her Dreamland with open arms. ¡°I¡¯m imprisoned in this paradise where all my wishes come alive. And yet I¡¯m reminiscing, all this power but there¡¯s something missing.¡±


    Behind her, Mal quietly gets up and tiptoes backwards to make his escape. But the princess turns back to him and locks her arm in his to lead him along as she snaps more things into existence. ¡°Snap a cake, snap a dress. Consume it all without a thought. Then I think of the cook, watching me eat with her gratified look!¡±


    The massive treehouses part and the two plus the raven enter a massive room without a roof full of half-dreamt dreams. Mal picks out pieces of a kitchen, a cold oven, and tools splayed out. But there are also malformed swords and armor, and unfinished paintings. Mal finds her frustration in each abandoned project and her lack of knowledge in each mistake. Vespera releases him to pick up a hammer. ¡°How do I use my hands?¡± she pleads. ¡°How do I build, create, construct? All I¡¯ve owned made by hands like mine, but my mind has nothing to instruct!¡±


    To further explain her dilemma she tugs at dress. ¡°My dresses don¡¯t come from nothing. Not the shape, the color, the thread.¡± Then she muses at her room of endless puzzles. ¡°How does a painter paint a picture? How does a baker bake the break.¡±


    All interesting questions but not meant for Mal. He frowns. ¡°I¡¯m the Spinning Fairy. How am I supposed to¡ª¡±


    Vespera gasps and stares at him, her eyes shinning. ¡°The spinning wheel! Why yes, of course. You¡¯re going on ahead. Biggest question of them all: how does the spinster spin the thread?¡±


    With a snap, a spinning wheel appears before them. It is an exact replica of the one in the tower, still broken where Vespera had pricked her finger. But that memory doesn¡¯t register in her eyes as she circles it with curiosity instead. ¡°It looks just right, spins just right, but,¡± she pushes the wheel into a spin, ¡°I don''t know how thread comes out of it.¡±


    She continues to play with it, pulling at it and putting more force behind her push. Unable to bare much more of her blasphemous treatment he jumps forward to stop the wheel. ¡°Thread doesn¡¯t ¡®come out of it¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Vespera says, hanging onto his every word.


    ¡°You feed it wool or cotton and spin the wheel round.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh, uh-huh.¡±


    Taking command of the dream, Mal waves his hand over the missing part and the wheel becomes complete. Then he brings forth a mound of cotton and begins his work. ¡°You twist it to form thread and fill the spool like so.¡±


    ¡°And then from there?¡±


    With a defeated sigh Mal spins. ¡°How does a spinster spin the thread, as if I were a any mere spinster. Princess, you forget I¡¯m more. Watch my magic pour.¡± Vespera leans close to look at his fingers move. ¡°The thread should be even. No bumps, and twisted so. As it passes your fingers, here¡¯s the key: all your intentions you must set free.¡±


    Vespera lifts her head. ¡°Intentions?¡±


    ¡°Good intentions, bad intentions. In creating you lay your heart out bare. In every thread, I spin my will for another to don on and wear.¡± He spins faster. ¡°How does a baker bake the bread? With a need to make hunger despair. How does a painter paint a picture? With a vision their souls plead to share.


    Mal stands and motions for Vespera to take his place. She does so and mimics Mal¡¯s movements and starts feeding the spinning wheel. She starts off slowly, struggling to get into the motion but as she starts to get the hang of it a bright smile spreads on her face. ¡°With my own two hands, magicless, I still create. With this their love I will repay. To my people, my heart I¡¯ll display.¡±


    Mal looks down at Vespera a little taken aback by her admission. He hears a whisper of Phellious woven into her words and can¡¯t help but to gently smile at her. He thinks that maybe it won¡¯t be so bad to visit her again. Who was he to deny her learning a craft as important as spinning thread?


    But the moment is broken when the string in Vespera¡¯s hand snaps. She stops the wheel and looks up at Mal with a fierce determination ablaze in her eyes. ¡°Now show me again until I get it.¡±


    Mal¡¯s face scrunches up in horror as he realizes that to be a teacher he will, in fact, have to sit there and teach her. And because one cannot teach an entire craft in a day, he¡¯ll have to come again tomorrow, and the day after. The only thought in his mind is thus: What did I get myself into?


    Back in Mal¡¯s room in the waken world, Third and Seventh finish the last of the cleaning. All the shades are newly bathed and dressed and trading shiny rocks with one another. When the two fairies hear the connecting doorway open they drop their rags and broom and dart over to meet Mal.


    The person before them is not the same lethargic, depressed Mal, but a more irritated yet contemplative Mal and they know that he has found an issue to focus on. He¡¯s found a new goal, one that will not prove simple to achieve. Carefully, Third asks, ¡°How did it go, Sweetie?¡±


    Mal meets her eyes and answers with persistent disbelief at this new turn of events. ¡°I¡¯ve been cursed.¡±


    END SCENE

 10. INT. MAL’S KITCHEN - MORNING

    YEARS LATER


    First and Mal stand in his kitchen side by side, First upon a crate to reach Mal¡¯s height and the countertop. She is a round woman in a humbling muslin dress and plain apron. She is in a much cleaner state than Mal, a novice at baking, evident in the little clumps of dough clinging to his sleeves. A warm, sweet aroma wafts around them in the tidied-up kitchen as they both study the single loaf of bread perfected baked, and perfectly shaped. First cuts a slice, movements precise and calculated like her baking. She breaks off a piece and shoves it into Mal¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Taste that hint of cinnamon?¡± she says. ¡°How it gives a slight kick as you swallow it? No more, no less than what I¡¯ve said.¡± Then she shakes her head and grumbles. ¡°If only you could take my recipes with you¡­memory is such a fickle thing.¡±


    The bread, though delicious, is too big a piece, giving Mal more than enough time to study the taste and swallow it. Indeed, there is that hint of cinnamon, but not overpowering. Mal reaches for another piece even as he chatters on. ¡°Considering I don¡¯t have a human brain, and memory flows through me like water, I¡¯d say it¡¯s better¡ª¡±


    ¡°Exact measurements!¡± First cuts in and taps on the written recipe with a fury. ¡°Baking isn¡¯t like cooking where you can throw everything into a pot. If I didn¡¯t have this blessing planned for that ungrateful fool¡¯s wife¡¯s brother¡¯s third child, I¡¯d go with you.¡±


    After another bite, Mal frowns at the mention of a blessing. ¡°Then don¡¯t go.¡±


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    ¡°And have him ¡®accidentally¡¯ send all the sewage into the river that flows to my home?!¡±


    Of course that is the issue. Mal considers himself lucky he hasn¡¯t been invited to anything, his only obligation being to the kingdom that is currently asleep. Not even the royal family housing him has invited him as it could raise suspicions about King Labos¡¯ involvement.


    Soon, First urges Mal to the connected doorway now framed by two podiums holding vases, and an embroidered curtain of flowers and ravens hanging from the frame.


    ¡°Move along now,¡± First says. ¡°Go and teach her before you start to forget.¡± Then she turns to the shades and switches to her sweet, motherly voice. ¡°Now, who wants a little piece before I head out? Come come, form a line, little biscuits.¡±


    Mal clicks his tongue at the clear distinction of affection and crosses into the tower room. Over the years, all of the fairies have had a hand in remodeling the room. With all of Mal¡¯s and his mother''s mementos safe in Mal¡¯s current home, that left ample space for new furniture. First¡¯s everlasting pastries in the breadbox, Second¡¯s instruments occasionally playing melodies, Third¡¯s comfortable bed set up below while on the loft is Fourth¡¯s tiny kitchenette. Fifth¡¯s books take up a wall, Sixth¡¯s kegs and chalices by the high counter, and Mal¡¯s embroidered tapestries all come together in a cozy, organized clash of mastered crafts. Mal moves through the cluttered room with ease, eyes briefly glancing at the red cape displayed in the corner, before heading up to the loft. Pages of Mal¡¯s sketches and patterns lay scattered at the foot of Vespera¡¯s bed and Mal sifts through them briefly before sitting down on the cushioned chair nearby. With the flute playing a lullaby Mal falls asleep in seconds and enters Vespera¡¯s Dreamland.


    TRANSITION

 11. EXT. VESPERA’S MASSIVE DREAM WORKSHOP - MIDDAY

    What had once been a simple forest within castle walls has now expanded into a complex, deconstructed structure. Open-walled and open-ceiling rooms float with bridges and branches connecting them. Each room is a workshop for different crafts with all the necessary tools and projects, some completed and some half done. Beside the workshops is another massive structure, a partial barn, and a partial greenhouse. Gone are most of the fairy-like creatures and fancies, replaced by a more grounded reality, but a reality that is only possible in Vespera¡¯s dream. Mal enters the massive dream workshop from the ground into the bakery where Vespera¡ªin proper baker¡¯s clothing¡ªawaits tapping her foot.


    ¡°You¡¯re late!¡± she says.


    Mal clasps his hands behind his straightened back as the dream changes his clothes to a simpler set with an apron and linen over his head to hold back his thorns. He raises an eyebrow as he comes to the counter. ¡°Time is a little warped here. I am, in fact, on time.¡±


    With a snap, the recipe appears in his hand and he checks how detailed his memory transferred over. ¡°Everything seems accurate.¡± When he sets it down Vespera scoots to his side to read along. ¡°With baking,¡± Mal instructs, ¡°We have to follow what it says, to the exact measurement, or it all falls out of balance. We aren¡¯t throwing everything into a pot and calling it soup.¡±


    Vespera nods with rapt attention while she ties her hair back. ¡°I see. Doesn¡¯t seem too difficult to follow¡­¡± Her words drift off as she notices a strand of Mal¡¯s thorns slips into her line of sight. It coils slightly over the recipe like a cute, bristled snake, but is soon flung over Mal¡¯s shoulder who shows little care for it.


    She considers his frank dismissal, how he knows her whole life but hardly shares his own. All the fairies were human once until too much magic made them not. Mal was human once, too, but now exists in a body he fed because he had to, lived in because there was nothing else. But Vespera has always been captivated by it, from the first time he appeared in her dreamland. It had been so easy to intimidate him, and her nonsensical curse, as silly and useless as it was, Mal has complied with seriously.


    Staring at his head of thorns now, Vespera is struck by melancholy. How strange to be standing beside her teacher, the same fairy that cursed her and trapped her in this inescapable dream. Worse yet, there¡¯s no more hate in her heart. She searches for that same despair, the same anxiety that ate at her during those first endless days, and grasps at fignents of them. Time has eroded them, like waves on rocks. Instead, there¡¯s an unrelenting curiosity to know more about him, to reach out and touch him despite his thorns.


    Her body moves in time with her thoughts and her gentle hand comes up to pull back a thin strand he missed. But she pricks her finger instead. Mal gives her a side eye and the exasperation is clear in his tone. ¡°Are you paying attention?¡±


    Vespera pouts. ¡°I am. It¡¯s only¡­¡± While she struggles to put her complex and contradicting emotions together she transfers her irritation at the recipe before them. ¡°Since I already have this here I can bake this any time. There¡¯s something more pressing.¡±


    Mal raises an eyebrow. ¡°And that would be?¡±


    With no clear explanation yet, Vespera pulls at her hair, flustered, and lets her mouth run off. ¡°You see, I don¡¯t know what to do with my hair anymore. I want to try new styles, do something different.¡± When she sees Mal¡¯s pressed lips open she rushes forward to say, ¡°AND I don¡¯t want to ¡®snap it up.¡¯ There¡¯s no point if I can¡¯t learn it and recreate it once I¡¯m awake again.¡±


    Mal, with a deadpan look, snaps a mannequin head with long, luscious locks onto the counter and starts to make his way out. ¡°Okay, have fun.¡±


    Vespera catches his arm and pulls him along out of that workshop and into another one. Like a spoiled princess, she gets her way and Mal finds he can¡¯t resist her. He can complain, and he can look for the quickest way out of her dreams, but so long as she holds him there he is powerless. Because, in the depths of his nonexistent heart, he knows she¡¯s the only reason he gets up anymore, why he desperately searches for new things to teach her. Without her, he¡¯d be asleep too and that scares him.


    So he goes along with her whims and listens to her chatter. ¡°No, no, no,¡± she says. ¡°Why settle for a doll when a real person is here.¡±


    She leads him to another workshop and sits him down in front of a vanity. Mal grimaces at his reflection, his wiry head of thorns, and rolls his head back to look Vespear in the eye. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t noticed, I don¡¯t have hair.¡±


    Unperturbed Vespera picks up an ivory, bristle brush and wiggles it in front of his face. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t noticed, this is my dream.¡±


    The moment the brush touches the thorns and swipes down, the thorns snapp off and the vines are broken into locks of hair. Mal is breathless at the smooth and graceful movement of the brush. His eyes are enraptured by the transformation in the mirror, his thorns raining down at their feet. He can¡¯t bring himself to touch it out of fear of suddenly waking up. For the first time in years, he finds his humanity in his reflection, and he is suddenly not the Eighth Fairy, but Mal. Just Mal, a spinster.


    ¡°It¡¯s how I imagined your hair would be¡ªlong and dark,¡± he hears Vespera say. ¡°And when the sun shines it will shimmer a deep emerald, like Daisy¡¯s wings.¡±


    Mal remains silent, his expression carefully neutral as his fingers clutch onto his robe on his lap. Vespera¡¯s voice is like a lullaby as she sets down the brush and starts weaving his hair with her slender fingers, effortlessly, and tenderly. ¡°My mother used to fix my hair. I remember her gentle hands and her silly songs. But she became so busy, my nannies took over. I was seven the last time she brushed it and I¡¯ve never had the confidence to ask her. She has a kingdom to rule after all.¡± After a pause, she asks, ¡°How is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s sleeping. In the ballroom, I believe.¡± Her hands slow and Mal glances up at her reflection to find her gaze lowered.


    ¡°Do you visit her dreams too?¡±


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    Mal reverts his eyes to his hair. ¡°No. Only yours.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I see.¡±


    A thin braid thumps against Mal¡¯s back. They both avoid looking at one another through the mirror. Mal feels the hesitation in her fingers as she braids another section of his hair. ¡°Could I¡­could I share a dream with her? Like we¡¯re doing now?¡± She asks.


    Mal bites his lip. Despite his opened ribcage and the emptiness his roses live in, something feels compressed. Stifled. He wants to run away but also wants to keep feeling her hands in his hair. So he swallows down his discomfort and manages to keep his voice a little playful. ¡°I¡¯m under your curse, am I not?¡±


    ¡°You are.¡±


    She starts to bring the braids together to weave them into a thicker braid.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask the Third Fairy,¡± Mal says.


    For a brief second their eyes meet before Vespera resumes her work. A soft smile forms on her lips. ¡°Thank you.¡± Pause. ¡°And¡­there¡¯s one more thing.¡±


    Mal chuckles as he fiddles with his fingers. ¡°What¡¯s making you shy today?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not! There was a correct time to ask but it¡¯s long passed. You¡¯ve told me how my parents offended you, but never about King Phellious.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you know all about Phellious.¡± When he rolls his head with his derisive laugh he feels a yank and keeps his head still.


    ¡°I know what I¡¯ve been taught: that he was a good king, had a fascination with magic, and that he rid the kingdom of the shades, though he never shared how. I want to know how he offended you.¡±


    Mal opens his mouth but then closes it along with his eyes. Vespera¡¯s nails graze the top of his neck and she raises his hair and he remembers his mother¡¯s hands playing or fixing his hair when she comforted him. How she¡¯d ask him what was wrong and wait until he was ready to talk, however long it took. And he always talked because she¡¯d listen carefully, just like Vespera is doing now.


    When he opens his eyes again to see his fingers unfurled on his lap, the words pour out like a long breath he¡¯s held for so long.


    ¡°I¡­used to live in the tower room. Mother and I spun thread for Phellious and his family. He and I¡­he was my¡­friend. I always knew he would be a great king because he loved his people, and I trusted his judgment. So when he came up with a plan to get rid of the shades, I followed without question.


    ¡°But things went wrong. We were trapped in a cave, surrounded by them. The only solution was for me to stay behind as a beacon for the shades while he escaped. He promised¡­he gave his word he¡¯d come back for me. I waited, asleep, for a hundred years but I woke up alone¡­and he was dead. My mother was dead too, along with everyone I ever knew.¡±


    He remembers following Seventh to his kingdom, how he stood, little more than thorns with legs, beneath honey-brown eyes. Phellious portrait told Mal how life went on without him. Pellious¡¯ legacy sat on the throne, listening but unwilling to step down to greet Mal. Instead, she offered him thanks, some gold, and sent them on their way. Mal didn¡¯t even have the chance to ask to visit the tower he once lived in. That was when his rage was born.


    ¡°I hated him,¡± Mal admitted. ¡°I hated him so much. For moving on, getting married, having kids, for being happy without me.¡± He lets out a dry laugh. ¡°And all I got was this wretched body.¡±


    The final pin slides into his hair and Vespera¡¯s touch is gone. At last Mal lifts his head and sees another person staring back at him, his bountiful black locks braided and wound around his head. How lovely this man is. How lovely Mal could have been.


    Behind him, Vespera says, ¡°Solemn King Phellious. That¡¯s how people remember him. When I went into the tower I thought I¡¯d be able to find what made him so. And I found you. He protected what remained of you even after death. Maybe he was never able to get to you.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter anymore,¡± Mal scoffs. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    The pain, scorn, heartache, and acceptance in his words strike Vespera¡¯s heart and she finally understands. She sees all that led up to this moment. Like a veil falling away she sees King Phellious¡¯ portrait in the castle, grandiose and out of reach, the spinning wheel she never considered the existence of, and she sees Mal in front of her so small, so human.


    Everyone, regardless of status, of background, is human, like her. Everything she owned, was presented to her, she never questioned, though it all came from somewhere. Her dresses, her food, the paths she walked on, the flowers she smelled, someone created them. People like her. And just like her, people have their own struggles, lives, and regrets. And when they hurt, when they feel cornered or abandoned, they lash out.


    Despite having cursed her, Mal returned, again and again, to teach her about a world she had lived apart from, safe in her castle. Recalling Mal¡¯s stunned face when she cursed him, Vespera can¡¯t help but smile. Even the Eighth Fairy can fall to the whims of a girl. With her mind at peace, and her heart filled with empathy, she wraps her arms around Mal¡¯s neck and kisses the side of his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m still here,¡± she says. ¡°You are my teacher, but I also consider you my friend, and I¡¯d be overjoyed if you see me the same.¡± Her honey-brown eyes lock with his through the mirror. ¡°And I¡¯ll never give you my word; I¡¯ll show you my actions instead.¡±


    Mal wavers, his eyes brimming with emotion he¡¯s too prideful to show her so he turns away first. He lets a few moments pass until he¡¯s sure his lips won¡¯t quiver and then he pats Vespera¡¯s arm as a sign to release him. She does so but not before she gives him a loud smooch on his head.


    Laughing, Mal wiggles out of her reach and stands up before her, smoothing out his clothing. He touches the back of his bare neck as he adjusts to the strange sensation and the concentrated weight on his head. A pity he¡¯ll have thorns again upon waking up, like all the other times, but it feels different this time. His time here with Vespera doesn¡¯t feel ephemeral. His fingers itch to spin, to embroider, and his mind bursts with new ideas for patterns and projects.


    He realizes he¡¯s happy. Vespera considers him a friend.


    Unwilling to give in to his giddiness he clears his throat and snaps, making a short stack of papers appear in his hand which he holds out to Vespera. ¡°These are designs I¡¯ve been working on, but something feels off and I can¡¯t figure it out. If you don¡¯t mind putting baking off for a while longer, maybe you could help me finalize them.¡±


    Vespera takes the pages and sifts through them. With each page she skims faster, her furrowed brow gaining more wrinkles as she takes in the complexity and mastery of the work. ¡°Is this¡­some final test?¡±


    ¡°No. Personal projects I¡¯d like your input on.¡±


    Excitement flares in her eyes and she grips the papers tight to her chest. ¡°What are the designs for? Clothing? Tapestries?¡±


    ¡°Many things. But the best one will be for a dress for a certain sleeping princess, a gown of silver to shine like an evening star.¡±


    ¡°For me?¡± Vespera hops from foot to foot, unable to contain herself. ¡°Mal, you¡¯re the best teacher I¡¯ve ever had. When I wake up, I know I¡¯ll be ready to enter the world again. And¡­¡± Kindness softens her face, tenderness showing in her smile and her words. ¡°I forgive you for your curse, and I free you from mine. But I hope you continue being my teacher, forever and ever!¡±


    ¡°So long as my patience doesn¡¯t run dry.¡±


    ¡°How could it when I¡¯m the best student ever!¡±


    The two share a laugh. The years ahead of them suddenly seem short.


    END SCENE