“You..mmph,” Mena exclaimed before her mouth was muffled. Maggie’s anger over the betrayal welled up inside of her, but there was no where for it to go.

“You will not speak in MY kingdom, pigmalian,” King Ink ordered, as his guards secured a black fabric binding inside Mena’s mouth. She could only watch helplessly as the king paced with an indignant look.

“This was our moment of triumph,” the king remarked, and Chad nodded along while sneering at Mena. “And so, there is nothing more dastardly and cunning than gaining entry into my castle in the dark of night, hoping to take my daughter hostage.”

“MMMPHH,” Mena protested loudly, trying to spite the cloth in her mouth. There were so many words that couldn’t be said: How she was deceived by Chad in a fit of jealous rage, how Plumerella invited her into the castle herself, and how a ruler of a kingdom should not celebrate victory over the deaths of hundreds in such a gruesome manner.

“There will be no trial,” the King pontificated with his enormous golden plume. “How could there be? You’re an enemy of the state. You don’t deserve to be tried like a…human.”

Tears stung the edges of Mena’s eyes as they drizzled down her face, but something else loomed within her. The room fell silent, and all she could hear was a soft voice calling, “Take me…take me…” from the Golden Plume. Suddenly, Maggie’s hand jerked upwards, raised towards the plume.

The king’s voice flew into a rage. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The guards immediately bounded her, safely positioning her arms behind her back.

The king’s eyes bulged, and his nostrils flared hard like a regal bull. “How DARE you raise your hands to me, vile swine. Guards, take her away. The next time she’ll see the light of day, it will be on the day of her execution.”

The king tempered himself and turned to Chad. “I thank you, humble countryman. Without you, this kingdom would be in peril.”

Chad tipped his hat to bid Mena goodbye. “For king, country, and most of all, the fair princess.”

Cold iron bound Mena on the dungeon floor. If daylight had dawned, there was no way she would know—everything was so cold, dark and damp. As Mena sat, waiting on her fate, she wondered how she had become fused with Maggie’s body. I thought this was a flashback, Mena thought to herself. But now I’m part of it? Miserable magicaps.

“Miserable magicaps is right,” a much lower voice said from inside her body.

“Maggie?” Mena asked, looking back and forth, but Maggie only responded with a cold laugh.

“When you grabbed that Golden Plume,” Maggie said in a matter-of-fact manner, its power split to both of us. Now you feel a part of me, and I feel a part of you.”

“If that’s the case,” Mena protested, “Set me free. I don’t want to be part of you.”

“Who would?” Maggie responded softly. “But now, since you are here, you’ll get to feel true empathy…to the point of dying with me.”

“Dying with you?” Mena exclaimed, rattling her chains in horror. “I’m going to… die?”

“You will,” Maggie said grimly. “With my body, my dear Mena. You will be destroyed.”

Mena let out a few choice expletives. “Dang it to heck!” she sobbed “I don’t want to die…Not like this…this isn’t fair.”

“And you think it was fair to me?!” Maggie demanded. “Someone who had merely befriended a princess? Should I have died for that?”

Mena was silent as the iron boots of the jailer stomped down the stairs. His keys rattled for the only prisoner in the dungeon.

As an inch of light danced at the bottom of the stairs, Maggie’s voice grew increasingly self-satisfied. “Well, this is curtains for you, young Mena. Unless…you think of something.”

A dreary, heavy rain poured in the morning as Mena was transported in a horse drawn cart to the central square. A dark sack was draped over her head so all she could feel was every bump in the road and hear the sound of the overhead rain. Her heart and mind raced frantically together; the latter attempting to find any kind of solution to her miserable misfortune. As they drew closer, she heard voices.

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“They caught a pigmalian in the castle last night?” a woman’s voice said.

“That’s what I heard, dear,” a man responded. “Fortunately, they nicked em before they could cause any damage. At least we can witness the punishment of the scumbag swine.”

“Here here,” the woman responded back. “Praise the king for keeping us all safe.”

Mena was whacked on the back of the head. “Alright,” a gruff voice said. “Get it out of there.”

Someone else grabbed her, placed her on the ground and ripped the sack right off her head. The rain immediately drenched her whole body, and she realized she was standing before the stairs of an execution platform. It was in the center of the square, where the dank smell of rainy lingered with the charred pigmalian they were toasting last night. The fear in Mena only grew exponentially and her knobby knees trembled as she walked up the creaky wooden stairs.

When she reached the top, her eyes drew upon the gleaming instrument of death, wet with rain. The guillotine remained ominously high above her, seemingly surveying her pale white neck. Her head and hands were placed on the block, and everyone finally got a look at her. “It’s hideous,” one woman gasped. “Shield your eyes,” another one shouted.

As Mena watched everyone chanting furiously, her mind flashed back in time. Suddenly, she remembered her own execution. Back in the castle town of Growden, she was put on trial for merely being a witch. If it hadn’t been for Gemini and the Dream Castle, she would have been finished. As the people’s condemnations grew harsher and more distorted, she realized that this time, she wouldn’t be so lucky. There was no Gemini or Dream Castle in this realm. No one would save her. She was alone with an army of bigots who wanted her dead over a mere misunderstanding.

King Ink mounted the stage and with his golden feather pen glowing in the early morning rain, he made his pronouncement. “Here we have it: the one threat that could have brought this whole kingdom down.”

Everyone gasped, and King Ink, reveling in their fear continued, “This sordid creature made an attempt on my dear Plumerella’s life. She is, as you know, my only heir. In the middle of these festivities, your beloved princess could have been done in, and for that, not only will this pig pay…THEY ALL WILL PAY.”

Slowly, but surely, a chant rose from the crowd. “Kill the pig. Kill the pig. KILL THE PIG. KILL THE PIG.”

A twisted knot seemed to form in Mena’s stomach. She clenched her fists and gave a tremendously ugly scowl. She wasn’t only scared, now she was angry. In fact, she was the most furious she had ever been. She didn’t deserve to die…Not for being a pig… or for being a witch.

“Well well,” the King said, “We mustn’t dally. Let us cut the rope and there will be sausage.”

“Take me…take me…” whispered the Golden Plume to Mena.

Everyone cheered, but their voices quickly died when Mena’s hand twisted towards the Golden Plume. It immediately flew out of King Ink’s hand, and she closed her fingers around it. She only had one thing on her mind: With this golden pen, she would punish all the bigots who cheered senselessly for her death. She would unleash a black-and-white pestilence onto everyone and steal their magic ink, and lastly, she would rewrite all their stories and give them miserable ends.

There was the sound of a cut rope and time seemed to slow down. Mena had the perfect chance to ascend into the role of the Ghost Writer. But right before she did, an image of a woman flashed in her brain. It was a beautiful ginger haired woman in a light green sundress and a large, floppy sunhat…It was Deidre Love.

Mena shook her head, snapping out of her anger. “What am I doing?” she asked herself. She looked up and saw the blade about the fall on her neck and instead, she thrust it up in the air, directly at the guillotine, shattering it harmlessly.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? !” Maggie’s voice screamed frantically as the world flickered between monochromatic and colored, before dissolving away completely.

When Mena opened her eyes, she found herself and Maggie-within-Plumerella’s body floating together in a greenish-blue void. “Why did you do that?” Maggie’s voice implored her.

Mena looked at her arms and her feet. She was back in her old body.

“Why did you do that?” Maggie howled in her deep voice. Mascara like black ink poured down her bloodshot eyes. “You had the perfect chance to give into the darkness. The darkness that Anguish wanted so badly to consume you. Why didn’t you?”

Honestly doubting herself, Mena still told Maggie the only truth she knew about what happened. “There was a time I was going to be executed like you, Maggie. I felt the same exact anger and betrayal. It felt like the whole world was against me…until I saw her.”

“Who?!” Maggie screamed manically with her hands outstretched.

Mena remained calm and spoke with a candid expression. “The one magicless woman who loved me…even if I had magic. Deidre.”

“Why would that change things?” Maggie demanded.

“To know,” Mena remarked, suddenly feeling very little fear. “That one person in that crowd of bigots loved me, even when she learned the truth about me, well, it changed my feelings entirely. I wasn’t alone in my last moments.”

Maggie’s head dropped low. “I didn’t have that. Nobody cared about me.”

“Your pig dad,” Mena said, quickly. “Pigchard has stopped at nothing to bring you back. He loved you. He brought you back to his house when you had perished.”

Maggie looked up, mascara stains still blotting her face. For the first time ever, Mena saw some realization in her eyes.

“And…” Mena said, putting her hands behind her back. “I don’t think he was the only one who grieved over your death. How about you ask the very person who you are inside of. How about you let her free and talk to you in her own words.”

“Plumy…” Maggie said softly, before she frantically grabbed her head. “But I don’t know how she’ll react. I murdered her father…and Chad and…”

“You never know until you try,” Mena said.

“I…uh…okay,” Maggie closed Plumerella’s eyes and released her spirit from within the princess’ body. There she waited eagerly with Mena to hear Plumy…in her own words.