The Curse of Maleficent

by Elizabeth Rudnick

  Despite her optimistic nature, Aurora began to think that maybe there was nothing to the Wall after all. That it was just what it looked like: a way to separate the kingdom from whatever lay beyond.

  Still, Aurora couldn’t stay away.

  On one particularly beautiful, sunny afternoon, she stepped out of the shadows of the woods. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked that her aunts hadn’t followed her. They had been growing more protective of late.

  Aurora thought it was ironic, as she was going to be sixteen in a matter of months. She was no longer a child, yet more and more, her aunts treated her like one. Telling her to stay close. Asking her where she was going when she was just setting out to hang the laundry. They had even taken to checking in on her at night, making sure she was tucked in bed. It was as though they thought she would just up and leave them. Part of Aurora chafed at this sudden protectiveness, but another part was touched. Her aunts just loved her very much. Perhaps they were just beginning to realize that she was growing up and didn’t want to let go of their little girl.

  Still, it would do no good for them to discover her visits to the Wall—which was why she was always careful to take a different route whenever she left the cottage, and why she now made sure they weren’t behind her. Satisfied she was alone, Aurora crossed the road.

  White clouds drifted slowly through a bright blue sky. In the woods behind her, Aurora could hear the birds calling to one another. By the Wall, though, the sounds of nature seemed muted. Aurora gently placed her hand on one of the thick branches. She had learned to avoid the sharp thorns after her first encounter with the Wall. The branch was warm from the sun. It seemed to pulse under her fingers, and Aurora thought, not for the first time, that the Wall was alive.

  She smiled to herself. It was a silly thought, she knew, but it made her feel safer in some strange way. On occasion, Aurora had even thought she could hear the Wall talking to her, calling her closer. It was as though it were willing her to find a way to the other side.

  Standing on her tiptoes, Aurora squinted and peered through the branches. She had tried countless times, but she was never able to see what was on the other side. Today was no different. With a sigh, she dropped down and began to walk slowly along the Wall’s edge, lost in thought.

  Suddenly, a loud screech filled the air, startling Aurora. Looking around, she tried to determine where the noise was coming from. The road behind her was empty. To her left and right were the woods and the Wall. The noise couldn’t have come from either of those places. It sounded horrible, like metal on metal. The noise grew louder and louder. It was coming from somewhere ahead. Picking up her pace, Aurora began to move forward.

  The road bent to the left, and suddenly, in the distance, Aurora could make out a wagon and several men in heavy armor. The wagon appeared to have broken down.

  She stopped in her tracks. Her heart beat furiously. Aurora didn’t know what to do. It looked like the men needed help. But her aunts had warned her that men could be dangerous and clever. They had always said to run straight home and tell them if she encountered strangers. “You cannot trust anyone out there, especially men,” they’d warned. “Men are full of traps.” What if this was a trap?

  Aurora sighed. But what if it wasn’t and they truly did need her help? She couldn’t just turn and go back to the cottage as though nothing had happened. Sure, her aunts wouldn’t be happy if they knew she was approaching strangers. But they wouldn’t be happy knowing she’d ventured this far from home, for that matter.

  Aurora’s mind was racing. She needed to make a decision: show herself or disappear. Either way, the time to act was now. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and started to call out.…

  And then her nose twitched as a strange scent suddenly filled the air—a soothing mixture of honey, flowers, and soil. A moment later, her eyes grew heavy, and before she knew what was happening, Aurora sank to the ground, hearing the sounds of horses charging and men shouting.

  A plethora of questions flooded her mind. What was going on? Were the men attacking the Wall? Was she dreaming? Aurora rapidly lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.

  felt like she was floating. She heard muffled voices and her eyelids fluttered open. Above, she saw a full moon hanging bright in the sky. She could make out trees on both sides of her and the shadow of a large bird. Opening her mouth, she tried to speak, but the effort was too great, and after a moment, sleep claimed her once more.

  Strange dreams overtook her. Dreams about the sweet shadow figure she’d known all her life. The shadow had a pet dog…or was it a pet wolf by her side? And she was at the Wall, keeping a whole army of invaders out. Aurora knew she should be scared, but she wasn’t. In her mind’s eye, she merely watched calmly, floating over the scene, knowing the shadow and the wolf would be okay.

  She awoke sometime later, this time feeling less groggy. Slowly Aurora sat up and looked around. She was in the middle of a glen. Trees surrounded her on all sides, and nearby, water burbled in a small stream. In many ways, it looked like her clearing in the woods. But in many other ways, it did not.

  The trees seemed older, their branches thick with dark green leaves. The air smelled crisper. The grass underneath her felt softer and Aurora had the distinct feeling that the glen was alive, similar to how she’d felt whenever she’d touched the Thorn Wall, only magnified. In that moment, Aurora knew without a doubt she was no longer in the human world. But if that was the case, where was she?

  Sensing a presence behind her, Aurora was reminded of something. What was it? Suddenly, she felt warmed by a burst of clarity, as if a cloud had shifted to reveal a shining sunbeam. She smiled knowingly. There could be only one explanation for how she had gotten to this magical glen. “I know you’re there,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid.”

  There was a moment of silence and then, from somewhere behind her, a voice replied, “I’m not afraid.”

  Aurora nearly clapped her hands together in excitement. “Then come out,” she urged.

  “Then you’ll be afraid,” the voice said.

  “No I won’t,” Aurora said, shaking her head. How could she be? If she was right, the shadows of the trees hid the one person she had waited her whole life to meet.

  As she watched, the trees rustled, and a moment later, a figure stepped out into the middle of the glen. Aurora’s eyes grew wide. Standing in front of her was a faerie. In nearly every way, she looked human. She was tall and thin, with long dark hair and luminous, pale skin. Her lips were ruby red and her heavily lidded green eyes gazed at Aurora hesitantly. But on top of her head was a pair of large, dark horns. The same dark horns that Aurora had seen in the shadows for so many years.

  “I know who you are,” Aurora said, getting to her feet.

  The faerie took a step closer. She raised one eyebrow. “Do you?” she asked.

  Aurora nodded. “You’re my faerie godmother,” she replied.

  A smile tugged at the corner of the faerie’s lips. “Your…what?”

  Aurora could see that the creature was trying hard not to laugh, but she didn’t care. She knew it was true. “Faerie godmother,” Aurora repeated. “You’ve been watching over me my whole life. I’ve always known you were close by.”

  Her words seemed to surprise the faerie. “How?” she asked.

  Aurora pointed at the ground behind the faerie. In the bright moonlight, the faerie’s shadow stretched out behind her, the horns distinct. “Your shadow,” she replied. “It’s been following me ever since I was small. Wherever I went, your shadow was always with me.”

  A sudden caw made Aurora look up and her eyes widened. A big black raven had flown into the glen. With another caw he landed on the faerie’s shoulder and stared at Aurora with his beady black eyes. The bird had been as much of a shadow as her faerie godmother. A memory of lying in her crib giggling as the bird rocked th
e bed back and forth flooded Aurora’s mind and she laughed. “I remember you!” Walking slowly over, she reached out and gently rubbed the raven’s feathers. “Pretty bird.”

  As she stood there, next to her faerie godmother, Aurora saw the bushes at the edge of the clearing rustle. A moment later, a small faerie, its translucent wings fluttering furiously, appeared in the glen. Aurora’s eyes grew wide. Then another faerie appeared, and another.

  Within moments, the glen was full of faeries. They ranged in size, some no bigger than a stone, others the size of a fern. Some had blue wings, while others had clear ones. There were females and males and older faeries and younger ones. But not one looked like her faerie godmother.

  A huge smile spread across Aurora’s face as she gazed upon the magical creatures. The Moors were what lay beyond the Wall. The beautiful, fantastical Moors! How had she not realized it till now?

  Turning to her faerie godmother, she reached out a hand. The tall, striking faerie stepped back, avoiding the gesture. But Aurora was not deterred. “I’ve always wanted to come here,” she said. “But my aunts told me it was forbidden.” Then a thought occurred to her. “How did we get through the Wall?”

  Her faerie godmother shook her head. “It’s time to take you home,” she said in way of answer.

  Aurora opened her mouth to protest. “So soon?” she asked. “May I come back another night?” Aurora didn’t want to go home yet. She wanted to stay and meet all the other creatures in this world. But she could see that her faerie godmother would need convincing. The faerie’s green eyes were cautious and she seemed to have grown paler.

  Aurora wanted to ask why visiting made her so upset. She wanted to assure the faerie that she wouldn’t tell her aunts, that it would be their secret. But before she could utter a word, her faerie godmother reached into her pocket, pulled out a yellow flower, and gently blew on it so its sweet pollen flew toward Aurora.

  The familiar floral smell wafted up to her nose. Once again, a strong sleepy feeling overtook Aurora. She struggled against the sensation, but it was no use. A moment later she sank to the soft ground, which cushioned her like an earthy blanket. Her last conscious thought was that somehow she would come back to this world and spend as much time as she could with her faerie godmother.

  Aurora woke the next morning and glanced around her small bedroom. She almost expected to see the large raven sitting on the window ledge, cawing at her in his friendly way. But the ledge was empty and Aurora’s heart sank. Had she dreamed it all? Had she actually just been in bed this whole time, not in the beautiful glen among all those wonderful faeries?

  Her eyes fell on her shoes, which lay beside the bed. A fine layer of yellow dust covered the tips. Letting out a sigh of relief, she smiled. No, she hadn’t dreamed it. She had gone beyond the Wall and met her faerie godmother. And she couldn’t wait to go back.

  Aurora spent the rest of the day in a haze, reliving the evening’s events over and over again in her mind. What an incredible haven the Moors had been. Even more majestic and perfect than she’d imagined. While she wanted to go back to the Moors, she didn’t know how that would be possible. She didn’t remember getting through the Wall, which meant she couldn’t retrace her steps. And she didn’t know how to get in touch with her faerie godmother to ask for her help.

  As the hours passed, a feeling of dread began to grow in Aurora’s stomach. What if that had been it? What if she was never allowed to walk in the breathtaking faerie world again? And, even worse, what if she never got to see her faerie godmother again? The thought made her sick.

  For so long, her faerie godmother had been just a wish, a hope that there was someone out there who cared about her unconditionally. That there was someone out there who truly loved her.

  True, her aunts took care of her, but Aurora had never been able to shake the feeling that they looked at her as a chore. She loved them dearly, of course. But she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. And now she had met someone she believed didn’t look at her as a task. Someone who could possibly be a friend. And there was a chance she would never see her again.

  By the time Aurora crawled into bed that night, she was a mess of emotions. She tossed and turned, trying to stop the negative thoughts from racing around her mind. She recalled some of her earliest memories of the horned shadow standing over her bed, its peaceful presence lulling Aurora to sleep. If only her faerie godmother would come now!

  Finally, Aurora forced herself to stop wallowing in sadness. What she needed was a plan of action. She decided she would just have to go back to the Wall in the morning and shout for her faerie godmother for as long as it took. While it wasn’t the most surefire plan, Aurora started to feel better.

  Just when Aurora was starting to fall asleep, a small gust of wind blew through her room. A moment later, her faerie godmother appeared in the window.

  Aurora sat up eagerly, taking in the sight of the beautiful faerie in front of her. This was real. She was really here! Putting a finger to her lips, the faerie once more reached into her cape and pulled out the now familiar yellow flower. Aurora smiled widely. It looked like she got to go back after all.

  had never been happier. Every day she went about her chores, cleaning the cottage, picking vegetables in the garden. And every night she frolicked among the faeries. Her godmother had told her all about the world they lived in. The Faerie Moors, she explained, was a place of great magic and incredible beauty. Nature was the center of the world, every creature working to ensure that trees grew bigger, plants bloomed brighter, and water ran sweeter.

  With each passing night, Aurora learned more and more about the world. She met a family of wallerbogs, tiny brown creatures with sad droopy eyes that lived in the peat bogs. These creatures used their slobber to create mud to keep the bog healthy. While not the prettiest of beings, they were incredibly playful, as Aurora soon discovered. On more than one occasion, she got caught in the middle of a mud fight that left her laughing and covered in grime.

  Aurora watched in awe as water faeries skated along the top of a pond, their little feet leaving barely a ripple on the surface. Aurora laughed when the beautiful creatures stopped suddenly to admire themselves in the water’s reflection, running their hands through their long hair, which mimicked the grasses of the pond. Vain little things that somehow reminded her of her aunts, they seemed to love Aurora and would show off for hours, diving down to the depths of the pond only to fly up and out a moment later. Aurora would clap and then glance over her shoulder to see her faerie godmother watching her with a bemused expression on her face. She seemed surprised by the ease with which Aurora settled into life in the Moors.

  It didn’t surprise Aurora. She felt at home in the Moors in a way she had never felt in the cottage. It was the same feeling she got whenever she was in the woods by the cottage, only heightened. In the Moors she felt more in tune with nature, more at peace with herself. She began to see the world as two parts—the human and the faerie. And she began to realize that perhaps her true place was in the faerie part rather than the human one.

  With every night that passed, the feeling that she and her faerie godmother were meant to be together grew stronger as well. At first, the faerie had seemed reluctant to have Aurora in the Moors. She had kept her distance as Aurora made friends with the other faeries. She had hesitated to introduce Aurora to the stone faeries, with their tough gray skin and big hearts. Her faerie godmother had hemmed and hawed when Aurora first asked to venture beyond the glen.

  Yet slowly, as the moon waxed and waned, Aurora sensed a definite shift in her faerie godmother’s feelings. She sensed—because her faerie godmother would never dare tell her—that the faerie had closed her heart years earlier. Now she was slowly opening it. And Aurora couldn’t be happier. The faerie no longer walked two steps ahead as they explored the meadow where snow faeries frolicked. She didn’t roll her eyes every time Auro
ra asked what type of plant that was or what that tree was called. Instead, she began to go out of her way to show her all the beauty of the Moors. And Aurora could tell her godmother loved this beautiful place as much as she did.

  Every night there was a new place to visit. The Moors seemed endless to Aurora. There were hundreds of lakes and dozens of beautiful glens. There was a huge precipice that she and her faerie godmother would sit on for hours as the stars grew brighter in the sky above. There was the Faerie Mound, where her godmother lived. Then there was the Wall itself, which loomed over the Moors, a constant reminder that the two worlds did not coexist.

  Those were, for Aurora, the best days of her young life. She loved the Moors. She was fascinated by every creature she met. And most importantly, she adored her faerie godmother. She no longer saw her as the horned shadow of her childhood. She was now Aurora’s friend and confidante. The only thing that saddened her was that every night, despite her protests, her faerie godmother would pull out a yellow flower, blow on it, and put her to sleep.

  She would wake in the morning, the covers tucked up around her chin, her aunts none the wiser that she had been gone for the greater part of the night.

  The air had grown colder. Fall had given way to winter, and Aurora continued going to the Moors. Her faerie godmother continued to teach her new things every night, and with each visit, they grew closer.

  And then, overnight, Aurora sensed a change in her faerie godmother.

  She noticed as they made their way up a hill one starry night. While never overly chatty, her faerie godmother seemed even quieter than usual. She kept looking at Aurora, as though about to speak, only to glance away quickly. Confused, Aurora began rambling about everything and anything. Finally, noticing a dew faerie flitting between the petals of a nearby flower, Aurora asked, “Do all of the Fair People have wings?”