Page 16 of Rewitched

Face those fears that you well know.

Pragmatic, shrewd, courageous, bold,

Remain of mind for fate foretold.

She rushed to say the words aloud and fired a desperate finger at the wall, anticipating the flurry of sparks to follow that would end the unfolding nightmare.

Nothing. The feeling of magic that she knew so well stayed dormant. There was no rush. No warmth—other than the rising real panic making beads of sweat form damply at her temples. It wasn’t even a spell.

“You have got to be kidding me. A riddle? A fun little brainteaser? Now?”

Belle yelled in between gritty mouthfuls of sand, kicking out to try and loosen her legs under the vast, thick weight. She stared at the piece of paper, willing her brain to work it out. But every thought spluttered and stalled the same moment it began. Spells only worked with full understanding of what was being cast, full comprehension of cause and effect. She had to know what she was casting before any kind of magic could successfully happen. She tried to centre her mind, line by line.

There couldn’t be another hidden door involved if a key wouldn’t work. Nor could she smash anything down—frustrating, because destroying the place sounded particularly appealing. Break illusion…So it wasn’t real? Good to know. The wall was a glamour, a false reality, however realistic it might look or feel in the moment. But that didn’t help much, either, while her very real claustrophobia insisted on believing otherwise.

Transfigurate this path’s conclusion. Transfiguring was somewhat in her arsenal, the basics at least. Usually turning a soggy forgotten bag of salad into a fresh one or a pair of old jeans into a one-size-bigger pair of jeans, but still. The same principle surely applied when it came to transfiguring stone walls into something else. Anything else.

That cold tapping finger of panic was back again and now felt all the more real.

In the pitch black, a parched whisper reached her ears. “I knew you’d amount to nothing.”

It didn’t just speak. It reached inside her skull, breathing at the bone.

“Everything I sacrificed for you.”

She recognised it. “Mum?”

It was Bonnie’s voice, but stretched out to a different, painful octave. It sounded low and tortured, choked with tears and thick, opaque revulsion. Speaking everything that Belle could ever fear, had ever feared.

Face those fears that you well know.

“I loved you so much when you were small. You were so special, so clever and so beautiful.”

Belle’s hands flew to cover her mouth, disguising an appalled disbelieving sob.

“You were gifted. And now look at you. Never daring to try. Nothing special, tumbling behind everybody else. A burden to everyone. In my nightmares, I couldn’t have imagined facing such a disappointment. So much promise and potential, wasted over and over. I’m ashamed of you.”

“It’s not real. This is not real,” Belle murmured on repeat, hands against her ears, headache thrumming.

“You are no daughter of mine.”

Remain of mind.

It didn’t even matter anymore, the sand. She couldn’t focus on the rising pressure of it clinging to her skin and cementing around her. The voice stole her from the physical. Bonnie sneered a vicious, howling laugh that morphed into a piercing, ear-shattering scream.

And then it changed.

“How could you lie to me?”

Belle’s eyes snapped open wildly.

“Ari?”

“And for all this time. Do you hate me that much? Do you not trust me?”

“Ariadne…What is happening?” Belle yelled.

“How could you do this to me? Keeping such a giant, ugly secret from me. We’re supposed to be friends. Best friends. It’s us.”