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—or fairy, or witch—will 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.”

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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—”

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