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Even though they all looked exactly alike, the witch in the middle somehow seemed older than the other two. She wasn’t joining in their antics. She just stood there, staring right at Aurora, taking her measure. “So you’re the princess Aurora. Maleficent will be so pleased that we found you.”
“Who…who are you? And how do you know Maleficent?” Aurora said hesitantly.
“My name is Lucinda, and these two rather animated witches are my sisters, Ruby and Martha. As for Maleficent, well…she is a very old friend of ours,” the witch in the middle replied.
Aurora studied the odd sisters. The women were clearly magical, but Aurora sensed that their powers were limited by the twilight magic of the dreamscape.
“Are you Circe’s sisters?” the princess asked, putting it together. She had seen a beautiful young witch named Circe at Morningstar Castle with her cousin Princess Tulip. Circe had been fretting over her sisters, who were trapped in the land of dreams.
“How does the sleeping Rose know our little sister?” Ruby screamed, her face contorting itself horribly.
Lucinda shot her sister an evil glare, silencing her. “Don’t squawk, Ruby. And let’s please try to talk plainly and in a straight line for the princess here. This place is confusing enough without us adding to the bedlam.”
“Oh, no! Are we doing that again, Lucinda? Please! Please tell us we don’t have to!” Ruby and Martha yelled.
“Tell us how you know our sister!” Ruby snarled, making Aurora jump back in fright.
“Stop this, Ruby, and let the girl answer the question!” Lucinda scolded her.
Clearly Lucinda is in charge of the other two, the princess thought.
“She’s not in charge!” squeaked Martha, reading Aurora’s mind.
“Oh, you know she’s in charge! She always has been!” said Ruby.
“Sisters, please! Let the girl speak. She was going to tell us about our sister,” Lucinda said.
“Well, I wasn’t, actually. It seems to me since I have information you want, it might be better to keep it to myself,” Aurora said bravely.
Lucinda smirked slyly. “I see.”
What happened next was entirely unexpected. Lucinda stepped through the mirror like a specter from the fathoms of death, her long bony hands grasping at the princess. Terrified, Aurora fell backward onto the ground, suddenly seized by a terrible burning sensation within her.
The three sisters cackled. “Careful, dear! You haven’t discovered all the magic in this place, or the magic within your own soul. Now tell us what you know about our little sister!”
Circe sat on the floor of her eerily quiet house, surrounded by her sisters’ books. She had written her letter to Snow and was now searching for something—anything—that could help her wake her sisters. The house’s stained glass windows, depicting her sisters’ many adventures, did nothing to inspire ideas about how to wake them up. It was so strange being in that house alone, flipping through her sisters’ books and going through their pantry. She had found countless sleeping enchantments and their antidotes, but nothing to bring someone out of the realm of dreams—if that was in fact where her sisters were. If history told Circe anything, it was that there had to be some addendum to whatever curse had sent her sisters to the land of dreams in the first place. It was likely that the person who had cursed them would have to be the one to bring them back. Nevertheless, she searched.
The black onyx crows that flanked the fireplace stared into nothingness while Circe searched in vain through her sisters’ many spell books and journals. Circe had to use all her willpower not to be distracted by the stories inside. Her sisters were so much older than her. She’d often wondered what their lives were like before they had to care for her. They never spoke of it—of the time before she was in their world, or of their parents, or how they had died. Circe’s childhood was a mystery to her. She remembered nothing of her upbringing. Whenever she had tried to ask her sisters about that time, they had simply rambled off senseless words so that she would drop the subject. If only her power to rewind and look at time worked on her. She couldn’t help wondering if those years were documented somewhere in the books. When she was a child, her sisters’ spell books would either refuse to open or scream in pain if she touched them. Her sisters had been alerted anytime she had tried to spy on them. But now her sisters weren’t there. She needed only to open the books, which simultaneously thrilled and frightened her. If her sisters’ protection spells were broken, did that mean they would never recover from their ordeal? Usually a spell stopped working only when a witch was dead.
Circe recalled Nanny telling her how Circe’s spell had gone haywire when Ursula had taken Circe’s soul. Nanny had worried that something terrible had happened to Circe, but she had recovered, hadn’t she? That at least gave Circe hope.
As Circe sat with a stack of books before her, the light coming through a stained glass window featuring a single red apple caught her eye. She had seen the window countless times over the years, and she knew the meaning behind it. She knew fragments of the story, anyway, as she knew only bits of the tales that had inspired all the windows in her home. But right then, the apple caught her eye and tugged at her heart. She thought of Snow White’s book and wondered what secrets it might hold.
Just then, she heard a light tapping on the doorbell, so soft that she almost missed it. She opened the door to find a tiny owl hitting its beak against the large brass bell visitors normally rang to make their presence known. The tiny creature was so enchanted by his own reflection in the brass that he was completely oblivious to Circe.
“Come in, little one. I will give you a biscuit,” Circe said, scooping him up. The little gray owl hooted his thanks as Circe placed him gently on the kitchen table. He promptly stuck out his tiny foot, waiting for Circe to take the scroll that had been tethered there. He looked somewhat wobbly as he stood on one foot. Circe had to wonder how long the little owl had been delivering messages and with what success. She found the biscuit tin, broke a biscuit in half, and gave it to the owl to nibble on while she read the message. He gave her a strange look, as if she was being stingy.
“You’re a wee one, little sir. You may have the other half when you’ve finished that,” Circe said as she unraveled the scroll and began to read.
Dear Circe,
Thank you for your lovely heartfelt letter. I wanted you to know I received it and my mother ha
s agreed to help me with the instructions for the travel charm you sent. There is so much more I want to say to you, but since we will be together soon, I think I will leave it until then.
With kindest regards,
Queen Snow White
