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Jay laughed in delight, and it was no longer an old man’s gruff chuckle.
“‘To whiten my hair, a scream of fright!’” said Evie, watching as her hair went back to the dark, beautiful blue hue. Mal’s thick purple locks returned, and the black seeped back into Carlos’s white hair.
Evie was almost done now, and her voice gained confidence as she remembered the last words of the incantation. “‘A blast of wind to fan my hate, a thunderbolt to mix it well, now reverse this magic spell!’”
All four of them cheered and yelled and jumped around like crazy idiots. Even Evie was grinning now.
She had never been so happy to see herself in the mirror, and now that she was herself again, she found that for once in her life, nobody even cared how she looked. Not even her.
It was like magic.
As she trudged behind the others, M
al thought about what she’d said to Evie—how everything at the Forbidden Fortress had been a test.
Carlos had faced the gargoyles, and Jay, the Cave of Wonders. Evie had endured the Magic Mirror.
What about me?
What’s in store for me?
Was danger—in the form of a challenge all her own—waiting for her, just behind the next castle door?
Or would it be even more like my mother to ignore me altogether? To leave me alone, and think I wasn’t worthy of any kind of test at all?
She closed her eyes. She could almost hear her mother’s voice now.
What is there to test, Mal? You aren’t like me. You’re weak, like your father. You don’t even deserve your own name.
Mal opened her eyes.
Either way, nothing changed the place where they were standing.
Maleficent’s home. Her lair.
Mal was on her mother’s turf now, whether or not she was welcome there. And she knew that whatever happened next was about the two of them, test or not. Quest or not.
Even, Dragon’s Eye or not.
Mal couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone was watching her; she’d felt it since she left home that morning, and the presence was even stronger in the fortress. But every time she looked over her shoulder there was nothing. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
Past the mirrored hallway, Mal and the others walked through a corridor hung with purple and gold pennants and great tapestries, depicting all the surrounding kingdoms. It was hard to tell one from the next, though, mostly because the dust was so thick. As they walked, they even made tracks across the dusty stones, as if they were instead trudging through hallways of snow.
But on they went.
The corridors bent and twisted, the floor sometimes seeming uneven, the walls angling one way or the other, making them all feel as if they were in a dream or a fun-house or someplace that didn’t really exist.
A fairy tale come to life.
A castle—only, the way castles looked in nightmares.
Every wall and every stone was rendered in shades of gray and black, a faint green glow sometimes seeping through a wedge here and there.
Mother’s home, Mal thought every time she noticed the green light.
The total effect was excruciating for all four of them—even for Mal.
Or, especially for Mal.
