The Beauty of Mist, the Beast of Dawn {INDEFINITE HOLD}

Chapter 9: The Prince

"Hello there, Princeling. We need to talk." I swayed, the world feeling insubstantial beneath my feet, as the seven words sank in—the seven stunningly familiar words. The seven familiar words formed by nine syllables; the nine syllables pushed out by two familiar lips—her lips. The witch's lips.

Perhaps they held no significance, the witch herself, her words, their meaning. Perhaps they meant nothing but the obvious. Perhaps they were little more than a beckoning. Even so, I, for some reason, could not help but think. I knew those words; I'd recognized them immediately. It may have been two years since I had last heard them, but they were memorable.

Hello there, Princeling. We need to talk. I could recall the shock of seeing her again after so long. After seven years of riddles and games, seven years of untraceable clues and mysteriously delivered messages, of haunting visions and dreams, seven years of being 'The Beast', we finally met face-to-face. She had gone from my life, and then returned when I was fifteen, exactly how she'd said she would. Those words, those seven familiar words, were her greeting.

It was no wonder I continued to obsess over them at age seventeen, no wonder why my brain fixed on the words, looping them over and over and over again. Hello there, Princeling. We need to talk. I felt my temple throb, pain beginning to flare. With each repetition, my thoughts became louder and louder. Hello there, Princeling. We need to talk. Hello there, Princeling. We need to talk. Hello there, Princeling—

An agonized scream tore from my throat, and I pulled at my hair. The throbbing in my head crescendoed to a full-blown pounding. It hurt. A lot. Why did it hurt so much?

Another repetition. More pain. Another shout. Another repetition. More pain. Another shout. On and on it went, a ruthless cycle of agony and brutality. I was beginning to think it would never end when, with an accompanying rush, a curtain of rich, purple fog swept into my mind. I tensed on instinct, but the mist whispered soothing nothings, causing my thoughts to hush. Shhhh. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

I did as I was told, inhaling then exhaling several times.

Better? The mist seemed to ask. When I gave my reply, a cautious "yes" and a hastily added "Thank you," it continued, I now present to you a choice. Should you choose, you may return fully to reality, or you may choose to explore the origins of the pain you feel.

I wasn't connected to the real world? To real life?

No, you are in a lucid state, in between reality and dreams. You can hear and feel what is happening in the real world, but your conscious is focused on your thoughts and memories.

I hesitated, hovering indecisively. Yes, I wanted to escape this trap my mind had built, but I did want to know. I wanted to know what the witch's intentions were, why she chose those words. Which was I thirstier for?  The safety? Or the knowledge?

Safety won out. I was tired, exhausted, and in pain. I wanted to stop fighting. I wanted to be free.

If you wish. I would not have chosen that if I were you.

Then, the purple mist twisted and twirled, tying up the seven words and carrying them away. The pain receded, and the spots dancing before my eyes slowly faded. I was safe from my mind.

I laughed incredulously, bordering on hysterics. "I'm back. I'm safe!"

"Yes, you are. For now." I jumped at the witch's voice. I had forgotten she was there, had forgotten what had triggered the agony in the first place.

Sighing, I inquired, "What do you mean 'for now?'"

"I mean you are going back. I am sending you back."