The crystal glowed hot at this point. “Please stop!” Elsa screamed at the top of her lungs, as Zamir's claw tore into Theo's flesh, sending blonde fur everywhere. “I can't take this anymore. I don't know what you want. I don't know what to do.”
“There's nothing to do, my dear,” Freja said. “Except die. You could do that favor for me.”
If Elsa didn't do something soon, she would witness the wild and crazy Zamir, in all his strength, tear apart the one person she ever truly loved. She watched his violent claw rip apart Theo's flesh and his angry teeth sink into his neck. After a few second, Theo's lion form lay there silent, lifeless. Zamir turned to Freja, ready to eat her now, and it was clear to Elsa that Freja was deathly afraid of Zamir. He lunched at her, and shaking, Freja held up her wand. “Not so fast, Dark Prince. If you touch me, she dies,” and Zamir looked over at her, his eyes almost busted with a radioactive green at this point. Zamir didn't want to hurt Elsa, and Freja could kill her in a single snap of the wrist, so fighting Freja meant killing Elsa.
The crystal continued to glow red and hot, burning through the table. Elsa tried to use the spell one more time. But she was losing energy fast. “Dark solitudes.awful wells.” Nothing happened, and Elsa sank further into a darkness in her mind, her eyelids getting heavy, losing focus. “Heavenly contemplation.dwells.” Again, nothing.
“My heart.the heat.leave me.” She trailed off, nearly unconsciousness. As she approached the breaking point in her journey, the point at which she truly had given up all hope, floating in mid-air by a magical blue wire, her true love dead at her feet, murdered by the shifter with whom she shared some mysterious, inexplicable great passion she would never fully understand, as he tried to save her, there was one thought that emerged from the depths of her grief. She spoke it aloud.
“Ok, you win, God. I love them both. I made a mistake. I don't have the answers. That's the truth.” And with that, she dropped her head, ready for anything, accepting her fate as it might come, given the circumstances. The crystal, as it lay on the wooden floor, suddenly glowed to life, brighter than anything, and a red and ruby light flooded the room. Far away in her mind, Elsa could hear Freja scream as the blue wire wrapped itself around her own neck, slicing off her head like an angry Medusa, sending it rolling across the floor. Elsa fell to the floor, her energy returning as the crystal's red hue brought Theo back to life. Elsa could see his chest, now in human form, move ever so slightly. She grabbed his hand and spoke the only words she could think to say.
“Theo,” she said, breathing heavily, “I'm back.”
CHAPTER 49
Elsa rushed outside to find Zamir, afraid something had happened to him. At the edge of the forest, she could see him standing there, the same mysterious expression on his face, simultaneously evil and passionate, even in his wolf form. He took one look at her before entering into the forest silently. Elsa wondered if she had broken his heart, or whether he cared at all. The emotions oscillated between anger and jealousy. She stood there with Theo and Augustus, feeling more alone than she ever had. But looking back at Theo, she realized she could finally form her relationship with him, however damaged it may be.
CHAPTER 50
The days and months after Theo's fight with Zamir were hard. He struggled to recover from his injuries, as he fought the only creature in existence who was stronger than he was. Elsa did everything she could to nurse him back to health, and after much apologizing on his part for trying to kill her, they started a new life together. Augustus watched over Elsa for a few days, but told her he needed to venture back into the forest, to find his brother and his friend. Elsa understood and wished him luck. Augustus, along with Elsa and Theo, was finally free of the Forbidden Forest, and he decided it was important for him to make peace with his past. He knew the Forest would let him be as long as he stayed honest, told the truth, and didn't try to be someone he wasn't. All these lessons he learned from Elsa's epiphany, and she knew he would be all right. He knew Dorien was out there, in the forest, and he wanted to make sure he had not captured Niklas and Kirbleitz. Augustus knew had an obligation to save them, find them, and show them the way out of the forest. He wanted to teach them what Elsa and all of them had learned.
Elsa and Theo continued to make a life together, in the aftermath of all that had happened. He loved her with all his heart, but he knew her situation—that the moment she tried to choose him over Zamir was the moment the forest would pull all of them back into its clutches. So Elsa remained faithful to Theo, but still occasionally wondered about Zamir and whether he would ever come back to her
Theo and Elsa finally would get the chance to consummate the love that burned between their hearts so long ago. Elsa could see through her own nature that Zamir was waiting for her, somewhere in the distance, and even though she tried to communicate with him during the day, she only managed to talk to him at night in her dreams. Maybe one day he would return to her, and when that day came, she would decide what to do about the two men whom she truly loved, the two men who completed each half of her divided soul. She laid the crystal on her nightstand, fearful but excited for the possibility that it would, in the not so distant future, come sparkling to life.
BONUS STORY - WATCHED BY WARLOCKS
WARNING: The following book is an account of one woman's nightmare come true. They say all good contains evil, and that all evil contains some good. If you are interested in experiencing the decadence, pleasure, and heat of passionate desire, step forward or you'll most certainly miss out.
“Uncle Sam's gold…has, in this respect, a quality of enchantment like that of the devil's wages. Whoever touches it should look well to himself, or he may find the bargain to go hard against him, involving, if not his soul, yet many of its better attributes; its sturdy force, its courage and constancy, its truth, its self-reliance, and all that gives the emphasis to manly character.”
—NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE,
The Scarlet Letter
CHAPTER I
This happened in 1656, the same year Ava's sister was married. In fact, all of Ava's sisters had married and she was now left alone, single, doomed seemingly to work as a waitress in a tavern on the main street of her hometown. Her job had perks, though, considering the dive was the only place in town singles had to go on the weekends. Her tavern consisted of strong, wooden tables lined in a row; two candles lay on each end. The walls were log, packed with frozen mud, and surrounded a giant fireplace in the center of the place. Along the longest side of the tavern was a bar, where Mitch served ale, spirits, and other relaxing drinks.
Ava was 22 years old, by far the oldest waitress in the place. Most of the girls looked up to her, but at the same time, took a protective stance to her when half-inebriated men entered before Ava's boss said she could go.
"A man's hands are for work, not play!" they'd say.
"Ava you tell me if them boys try anything, ya hear!?"
Ava consented to her co-workers, but she could tell the other girls felt sorry for her. Somewhat curvaceous, from the poor side of the tracks, without consistent access to a bathing tub, Ava nevertheless possessed a striking beauty if anyone would take the time to notice. Her hair was a dark chestnut brown, her eyes emitted a near supernatural blue hue, and her skin was porcelain-like. Being judged prematurely by your appearance was an experience with which Ava found herself very familiar.
Many people, not just her girlfriends, wondered why Ava hadn't taken an interest in specific men. And the truth was, not many men had taken an interest in Ava. But beyond that, Ava had a tendency to dream of a more perfect life. There was something in her nature missing, and the best way she could describe it to herself—or to anyone else, for that matter—was a nagging feeling of "being lopsided," overly endowed with certain traits found in all human beings, but mostly just in females, and underdeveloped in other areas, most typically found among males. Ask Ava about her talents in sewing, housekeeping, recording journal entries, and attending babies, and she could give a professorial lecture. But with regards to fishing, hunting, manual labor, or carpentry and blacksmith work, she couldn't even give you a moment's understanding. The truth was, if she stopped to think about it, Ava was constitutionally feminine, and there was something too relatable about the guys whom she knew in her hometown. Maybe you'd call it lack of mystery or surprise. They all seemed too predictable, too consistent, too one-dimensional: every one of them worked as a blacksmith, or jockey, or carpenter; every one of them wore the same suspenders in the same boring boots; each of them wanted nothing more than to stay home for the rest of their lives, making a living, working from paycheck-to-paycheck.
By contrast, Ava longed for something more romantic, something a little more out of reach and therefore more perfect. She wanted a guy whose personality was so masculine that he seemed almost like a different species, altogether unrelatable. It wasn't enough that he liked hunting and fishing, but that he hungered for mystery, being alone, independent, able to survive by the fruits of his own strength. He'd never talk unless you pried him, and even then, he'd only be interested in one or two-word answers. Separated, her man was, not just from society and people, but also from himself. He held not an ounce of self-consciousness or embarrassment. He was primal, pure action and reaction to the living world. Even his body radiated vitality and lust for life—tall as a statue and broad as oak. For Ava, knowing him would give real life to her dream, a place more real than anyone or anything she had experienced thus far in her two decades of life.
Ava stepped out of the tavern just as Mitch finally closed the place for the night. Her footsteps were crispy as she walked along the pathway to her little cottage in the woods. She lived by herself, as her mother thought it necessary for Ava to "get out on her own," away from her parents. This was really code for an insistence on her parent's part to get Ava married as soon as possible. Ava knew she could not make it on her own for any length of time past the age of 25. So the clock was ticking.
Her dwelling was quiet, dark, and cold. She put a log on the fire and struck a match. The sound struck against the silence. There was something quite unsettling about that night, because the moon shone down in the forest harder and whiter than any candle she could use to see her way through the darkness. Normally around 2 AM, the coyotes would emerge from the forest, howling their calls through the night. Most nights there was even a storm, or at least the quiet hiss of wind invading her doorsill.
But tonight there was nothing. Just dead silence.
She gave milk to her cat, locked the door, and started for the one window of her cottage. She stared outside for a brief moment, where the moonlight evaporated into the darkness of the forest. Something called to her, and she sensed that someone or something was watching her. The door to her cottage opened, and Ava turned around frightened. She stepped onto the snowy porch of her place and looked out into the distance.
"Hello!"
There was nothing.
"I have a huge dog that sleeps with me in bed at night, so don't you think of trying anything!" she said.
Silence.
And then the wind came alive, and electrified her skin through her clothes. Ice.
Ava walked back into her cottage and sealed the door with the biggest, thickest log she could find. She curled up into her bed and pulled the covers over her eyes.
CHAPTER II
Ava was fighting with Mitch at the beginning of her shift.
"Ava! When are you going to get married?"
"I'm so tired of hearing that sir. Please leave me alone," she said.
"I'm only asking because I know someone who would be right up your alley."
"Who's that?"
"Me course," he said.
Ava snapped her head away and bit her lip. Death. Death before marrying Mitch. Tall and angular, with an aquiline nose, and beady eyes, he reminded the patrons of a starved buzzard. Although Ava recognized his inner goodness, she herself couldn't help but agree with the other patrons and workers who didn't see into his soul as deeply. Thankfully Mitch had at least one soul who saw past his ghastly exterior, and Ava would make a conscientious effort to continue that acknowledgement.
Mitch motioned toward the door as it swung open.
"Or him," he said.
At first Ava couldn't see him. The door opened, she thought, by itself and a ghost made the sounds of footsteps. But then looked down and saw the skinny, short man enter the tavern. His clothes seemed like a wet rug he carried on his back, heavy and burdensome. His eyes were downcast, as if he were afraid of offending someone by looking at them. His hands, feet, and torso were almost doll-like. For a moment Ava thought a living mannequin had entered her tavern.
Without waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence, the man sauntered over to the bar and waited for Mitch to offer him some drink.
"What can I get for ya, sir?" Mitch asked.