A Modern Fairytale

The great transformation

Truth—is it really worth dying for? Is it really worth risking anything for? I see it—I can see it all now; when I was born into this world, I knew in my soul what it was that I owed and to whom I owed it. I knew his name, I knew his fate, and I knew the burden was on me to fulfill that promise. The ancient spell book followed me like an imprint, and I used it to wipe away my own memories—completely, starting anew. A soul, though, is the same no matter how crooked the mind is.

I tried so hard, you know. Yes, you do know. I tried so hard to run away—I even escaped to another dimension.

The witch-like fairy and the fairy-like witch.

But you were relentless, just like that spellbook. We were in no competition, but you would not allow me to exist this way. Who are you to decide? You would not allow me to lie to myself and torture a man for a thousand more years, not once it came to your attention that it was happening—even if you did not know me personally when you learned about it, however you learned about it. Your self-serving justice pushed me into the mirror that sent me back to where I came from.

Since I erased my memories, I did not recall them again in this new body either, although the spellbook continued to follow me. I lived a life with him not knowing it was him; I lived a life with him intending to kill him, then when I changed my mind about killing him, I ended his life. Only then did I pay the book proper attention.

He must have been searching for it, that book. He must have loved and hated me in equal measure, just as I did before I cheated my way out of the situation. Before you came and meddled with a life that was not yours to mess with...but that is what you do, isn't it? Changing lives with more ease than a normal person changes minds, and you play regardless of how strong or powerless your target is.

The king I knew, I bet, is not exempt. And even if he is, he will not be persuaded of it. That is the price you must pay for the history you cannot rewrite.

☆☆☆

The ground was blanketed with feathers, much like the sky. Valerie and Ulric stood on the soil of what used to be Venethema, staring at the sight before them—rubble of what was left, torn clothes, sand under their feet that could easily be kicked up by footsteps alone, and none of that they found shocking.

The shocking part was what predominantly occupied the space of this land: creatures with dull white human bodies and feathered wings resembling those of angels'. They seemed to be a variety of sexes, but there were no pupils in their eyes. From head to toe, they were white—not the sacred kind, but marble-white, like unfinished statues. Some had ragged pieces of cloth draped over their bodies, but most were entirely naked. The winged creatures floated in the air, not a single one of them moving. They appeared to have no spirit and no communication amongst themselves—at least, not what was capable of being interpreted by either Valerie or Ulric.

"They..." Valerie murmured, confused for once.

"They seem to be...hm. I am unsure of whether I want to say it," Ulric responded.

"That's not what angels look like."

"And definitely not what fallen angels look like."

"Unfinished false angels," Valerie concluded, "And they are unfinished because...?"

"The late queen was your mother, wasn't she? You killed her, didn't you?"

"But she was...!"

In the middle of speaking, Valerie blinked. Within that blink, one of the winged creatures had immediately appeared in front of her, barely an inch from her face—before she'd blinked, the nearest creature was a street away. Though startled, the fairy did not scream—long did it take to learn not to. At the same time, Ulric grabbed her by the waist and kicked off, flying backward and restoring distance between them and the ones that seemed to be unfinished false angels.