Page 13 of Down from the Tower

“Ten minutes and you’ll be escorted to dinner, Rapunzel. Don’t be late.”

I don’t say anything until the doors slam shut again, and familiar sounds of a key turning and locking the doors in place follow. I bend down to collect Cheshie before sparing the man a glance, but when I turn he’s standing halfway across the room.

Scoffing, I nuzzle my kitten with the side of my face, keeping my eyes on the shadow man. My poor cat is rather on the fat side, and as my only companion most days I tend to over-indulge him. He’s barely able to squeeze through the bars on my window some days. “Don’t tell me the Queen scares you too.”

It’s meant to be a joke. People fear Dorah for her wild behavior and ill-temper, and anyone wise should be afraid. She doesn’t get physical with me like Midas occasionally does, but she’s still dangerous.

Shadow man isn’t even looking at me, his eyes locked on Cheshie. There’s terror across his face, maybe like he’s seen a ghost, and those red-orange eyes of his flash, his lip curling.

I turn, hiding my cat from view. “Don’t you dare. Have words with me but keep Cheshie out of this.”

“Cheshie?”

“Yes, he’s a Cheshire cat. A friendly one when you don’t glare at him.” I narrow my eyes, stroking Cheshie’s unique fur to keep myself calm. “This is his room too. He’s been my cat for years and you aren’t going to scare him off by glaring. I don’t know how you keep hiding in plain sight, but make yourself scarce when I go to dinner. Don’t hurt my cat, shadow man.”

He glares down at my feline, who lazily looks back. “Trust me, Princess. I wouldn’t dare harm Cheshie.”

With that he pivots on his heel, and part of me is disappointed he’s already through with this. I narrow my eyes, watching as he approaches the barred window and wonder what his angle is.

When he reaches it, he peers back at me. “We’ll see each other soon.”

He tumbles backward, maneuvering through the bars like they aren’t even there and slipping from my room in a single breath. Yesterday taught me that falling isn't a fear of his. For a moment he was a man with the shadows stalking him, and now he is the shadows.

Disappointment and jealousy shoot through me. Clenching Cheshie to my chest I dart to the window, looking out to see if I can spot him in the fading light.

A blur of shadows flies across the sky, and it’s the only sign I see of him. My heart aches watching the stranger leave, our time together abruptly cut to an end.

Despite myself, I can’t stop my thoughts as I stare off into the emptiness once more, the city mocking me from beyond the walls of this tower.

Take me with you.

4 Zarev

Traveling from Tressa to anywhere else is a royal pain and with how difficult it is to cross over the wall, I find myself stuck on this side. I need to finish my investigation and get one curious princess off my mind as quickly as I can. Shadow hopping within the walls only makes me anxious, but being confined to the castle for too long makes me want to slip into the shadows and never return. Maybe the princess doesn’t mind her solitude so much because her room isn’t caked in blood and gold.

Midas has a unique design approach. It seems he likes to leave reminders of his terror throughout the castle, and even on the palace grounds. I’ve seen more golden statues of people trying to flee in terror here than I’ve seen statues anywhere else in Mystica, except perhaps the Red Court. People frozen in time, cowering or running or standing to fight, Midas doesn’t appear to hold back on much. I’ve seen some poor people have twisted beneath the gold, suffering a half life no one will put them out of. Before I leave this place I’ll at least snap the necks of these victims and send them on from Tressa. It’s torturous how he’s handling his power and control over people’s lives.

This kind of torture is only rumored around Mystica. Each kingdom has its secrets, and the royals will pay handsomely to learn the inner workings of other courts. I’ve even heard of the Sherwood Fae going in to trick certain divisions and stealing the jewels and coins. It’s not nearly as chaotic here as it is out in Neverland, or across Storybrooke Sea to Ander’s Way, a large continent comparable to Mystica.

But here, locked in a golden castle, the souls scream in pain, cry for help. I can sense the unease, the terror bleeding into these halls, yet the spirits allude me. There’s no reason at this point that I shouldn’t see the dead, yet none appear.

Midas wants to play god where he doesn’t belong, and he’s crafting his daughter into the perfect likeness he can control. Her outburst in her bedroom three days ago proved there’s some strong will hidden behind the sadness, but I can’t spend all my time in this kingdom fawning over a princess.

I’m here to fix the spirits of Mystica. Reapers only help the dead pass on through the Great Divide. We don’t gain or lose anything by them loitering in Mystica, but it does add to the spiritual pressure. Too many souls trapped in one place can cause unrest, and there’s no particular reason Midas should be hiding the dead of all things.

So how is he?

Three days of ignoring the princess turns into a week. I visited her bedroom once more when she was asleep, sitting above her and letting my shadows play along her skin, but it just worked me up more than it entertained me. I’d rather she be awake so I can see that fire in her pretty eyes again. Asleep she’s too complacent. I’m willing to bet she’s a spitfire when the mood is right.

Since no one ever lets her out of her tower, she doesn't see me during those days. Arthur is gone, so there are no other royal guests to entertain. Even following the king down to his ship did me no good. If Arthur knows about the secrets in Mystica he doesn’t speak of them.

If I wanted to confront Midas, I could. When I clamp down on the shadows and fight the darkness, I can pass as a regular man. If I drop the illusion the living can see me, but it’s not something I do very often and certainly not in a hostile environment like Tressa. Visibility is something I only ever do in places that bring me comfort, or when I absolutely must be seen by someone I’m tracking. If the Queen or King sees me, they are as good as dead. I’ll let the princess be my one exception in this kingdom.

I tug at my hood as I walk, the comforting veil of my shadows putting me more at ease. My appearance is jarring, proven by the princess who can see me. I know the orange-red of my eyes equates to evil to most people, and they would be right. I’m cursed to exist this way, and even if I only did one truly bad thing in life, it was enough to condemn me to this death.

Thinking back, I should’ve known all along that Little Red was the Queen’s friend. That mistake cost me dearly. Along with my friends.

Almost a week into walking through the Golden Castle, I finally find something of interest. I refuse to believe the suffering of Tressa’s souls is the result of something that the princess did. It must be the King.

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