Aidan Masters

Ages come and go, ceaselessly without fail,

History and prophecy the lives of mankind's tales.

And lo another story starts to flow

As across the land the wind doth blow...

The wind really is the greatest audience in the world. It’s heard a million confessions of love, a million deceitful dealings, a million births, and a million deaths. It’s heard the voice of Shakespeare, of Lord Byron, of Keats, of Chaucer - all in person and in the flesh. And it hears the frustrated curses of a modern day writer, Aidan, who sits over an antique typewriter. For years Aidan struggled as a writer, receiving just enough recognition (never fame) to feed him – both physically and egotistically – and convince him of the most beautiful lie: that maybe being a writer was indeed what he’s called to do. Except, more often than not, he faces nothing but this: the empty desperation of a deadline and the gaping absence of a story filling his cavernous mind. But then, as he mutters under his breath four simple words, his life turns down a path that would change him forever, that would inevitably change all of us forever.

“I’d sell my soul…”

There was no crash of thunder, no sulfurous smokes of Hades, no chasms opening to the underworld. The romance and theatrics of Hollywood were His greatest creation; to convince the mortal inhabitants of Earth that the supernatural only existed with improbable fantasy made His work all the more easy. Anyone can turn away from temptation when it’s full in your face – humans are remarkably heroic when it’s obvious exactly how to be a hero. No, He had perfected his work on Earth long ago, how to make these humans do His bidding. Let them think His whispers are their own brilliant ideas. Let them hang themselves on their own rope. No martyrs here; just mix up some greed, a dash of hope, a healthy dose of paranoia, and garnish with some genuine nobility. And just to prove how everyday His work is, Evil incarnate came for young Aidan Masters with the ring of his cell phone.

“What is it!?!” Aidan snapped as he lifted the phone to his mouth. “This better be fucking important. I’ve got twelve chapters and three plots to write tonight; and unless whoever you are is calling to tell me that I’ve won either won the lottery or my editor has dropped dead, you’re wasting my goddamn time.”

There was a long pause on the other end before a shaky voice could finally speak. “Aidan, it’s about your father.” Even over the phone, Aidan could tell his mother was dancing the razor thin edge of sanity. “He’s in the hospital. He collapsed at work today and… and… he’s got lung cancer. The doctors said it today. He’s got lung cancer, and he’s got a week to live with the treatment that I can afford…”

Aidan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really remember the words that he spoke, the conversation with his crying mother. It was like a dream; he could see himself cleaning up his typewriter and gathering the loose pages on his desk into a sad semblance of order. He watched with intrigue as he could see himself grab his coat and car keys, and run out the door. He watched himself drive to the hospital in the pouring rain; saw all five of the close calls that would have landed him his own bed and gown. He saw himself dash through the halls of the Emergency Room yelling at nursing staff that he was trying to find his father, can’t you idiots fucking do anything right. He saw himself, his hysterical mother, his unconscious father with more tubes and plastic attached to him than any person should. He saw himself take a vase of flowers and throw it with all his hate and anger across the hall where it shattered into a million little pieces. He saw himself staring at his father for the briefest eternity – all the time needed until the clarity of nothingness filled his eyes and let him coldly hug his mother, walk out of the hospital, drive home, and begin typing with renewed fervor.

Aidan has a secret. What he writes comes true.

In first grade his elementary school was closed for a week. The class bully who would always pick on Aidan was found on the playground choked dead from the chain on a swing set. It was ruled an accident.

In junior high Mel had Aidan’s heart. Aaron had hers. Aaron’s prom limo ran through a guardrail and off a mountain road. Mel didn’t have a scratch on her, and Aidan thought she was so beautiful at the funeral.

In high school her name was Josie, and at the expulsion hearings her mother was furious that her daughter would not only throw away her private school education by engaging in such lewd acts on campus with that Aidan boy, but to deny any sort of memory of the whole event… well, that was not her Josie!

In college we get away with a lot. No one ever knew why Aidan got away with more than most.

But there were rules. For some reason writing about family never had any sort of supernatural effect at all… Aidan could remember the hateful stories he’d write about his parents, wishing they would die after they grounded him from prom… but they always lived. He remembered writing about his sister coming into amazing wealth and finding love, but she died tragically at a young age – poor, destitute, and ever alone. Family blood runs thicker than any ink Aidan could ever put to paper.

And today, Aidan’s paranoia over what he writes tethers him to mildly interesting stories at best. To record the real stories flying through his brain would be disastrous. “But fuck it. Dad is dying; Mom can’t afford his treatment, so I need to make this deadline. You want a story? Fine. But don’t blame me when people start dying and lives are ruined. Whatever it takes to make money to keep Dad alive…” And he began to write…

“She was always running…”

She was always running down this hall. Her scrubs were covered in blood, and yet, no time to change. The ER is the focal point of the infinite inevitability of human mortality, the center of the maelstrom that is human life. People come here to die, whether it’s before, after, or exactly their time to go. Reality never works here – you save who you can, you condemn others to death; and since life and death is your job, it makes normal life completely abnormal. The Nurse could remember when she first started working here; she would leave the hospital knowing that each day was precious, that the fragile balance between life and death meant that each day should be lived to its fullest. But time wore her down, and the ferocity of death lost its bite – leaving nothing but the cold grey of a world that no longer held any sort of extreme at all. Life, death, what did it matter? It’s all just some shade of grey…

“There are always hysterical people at hospitals though,” she couldn’t help thinking to herself. She envied those that still do feel the polar opposites of the emotions of life. “Take this guy here.” She didn’t even make eye contact at the crazed young man screaming at her to tell him where his father was. “Remember when you thought life was that important? Ah well.” She just kept running, turning down hall after hall, handing out life, handing out death, going home and coming to work.

She was always running at home too: she was married, but she didn’t love him anymore. She used to believe once that Love was forever, that if there’s anything in this world that is steadfast and can weather any storm, it is Love. But the years had found the Nurse retreating deeper and deeper into her own heart, as he retreated deeper and deeper into the comfort of the bottle. She walked through the door of her apartment, exhausted from the day’s work, and saw him passed out on the kitchen floor. Wine bottles littered the ground. The place stank of urine, vomit, and death, and the tremors that wracked his body made his already pathetic form seem even less human. She turned and walked out of the apartment without even the slightest bit of emotion. This was normal. She was always running.

Why didn’t she leave him? Who knows. She didn’t need the money. She did need the validation. She didn’t need the affection; there wasn’t any from him, and besides, she could get any man’s attention she wanted. She did need someone to save. And if she ever saved him, well, then there wouldn’t be any reason to be with him. Someday, she always said, he’d change. And if he didn’t, well, she was strong enough on her own. She’d be just fine.

She had heard once in a song that all relationships end in one of two ways; either happy together or happy apart. Whoever wrote that was a fool. The true ending for any relationship, for all of life, is nothing more than the result of a thousand constant compromises and fear. It was compromises that let her drop out of medical school; it was fear that made sure she never went back. Compromises found her never taking that trip around the world; fear made her believe it was the right decision. Compromises kept her in a stagnant relationship; fear made sure she never followed her heart with that young man of promise so long ago. Fear and compromise, compromise and fear.

The saddest thing was she could see how the rest of her life would be. Each day is the same dull shade of grey: work, home, life. It’s enough to drive someone to doing something crazy. Enough to make someone run. And run she did…

Aidan looked up from his typewriter. His hands were cramping and ink smudged his face and hands. But there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there in years. He was writing life again… He paused for a moment, stared up at the ceiling, and then began with renewed fervor…

"Even with no siblings, he was never an only child…”

Even with no siblings, he was never an only child. Though most kids have their imaginary friends that they conjure up to keep them company, this Child’s fanciful friend was Death himself. Whether it was an ants’ nest or a stray cat, Death would whisper to him whenever he would go out and play. It was completely normal for him to see a life’s end, and for some reason the ending of lives tended to follow him around. And now at the ripe old age of twelve, misunderstood and mis-medicated, he walked home to see his step-father after school. Not like his parents would miss him anyways. Not like he’d miss the beatings.

The Child stood in the doorway of his step-father’s apartment and inhaled deeply. It was the welcome smell of death; in this case, equal parts urine, vomit, and alcohol. His step-father was passed out on the floor, laid out in a bed of wine bottles and filth. The Child knew his step-father’s wife was a Nurse, dedicated to helping people, but he had never seen her show any care at all. The Child slowly started cleaning up, stepping over the trembling and groaning body of his step-father. He never had any thoughts of self-pity, never thought that this was too much for a twelve year old. This was all he’d ever known, and Death smiled cruelly at him from the corner of the room, never once offering to help clean up.

He slept on the couch, if you could call it sleep. Terror would wake him in any number of forms. First there was the cold that the ratty blanket he lay huddled in couldn’t keep away. This cold was beyond the lack of warmth; it was the chill of despair and decay that sat deep inside his bones. It was the rising panic and mania that there is no cure, no solution, no way out of the life he had found himself in. Wrapping himself tighter seemed to hold the cold in instead of keeping it at bay.

Then there were the fits of coughing and choking coming from his step-father’s form on the floor. The Child could hear his step-father’s insides being torn apart, the body rejecting the very oxygen trying to keep life alive. He could almost taste the blood and bits of flesh that were for sure rising into his step-father’s throat. He tried to ignore the sounds, to tell himself that they would stop soon, but they never did. He used to try to help, to soothe him, to try to get him to drink something. Now, he just covered his head and shut his eyes so tight it hurt. If only Death would leave him alone, let him be an only child.

But the scariest terror that would wake him was the realization that this was all there was to life. When the cold grey dawn of the next morning would come, the Child knew he’d just be laying there with open eyes staring up at the ceiling. Death would be whispering in his ear again to do all sorts of terrible things, and if he was strong enough, he’d ignore them. Day after day after day would be the same. He needed a way out of this, a way to finally be alone…

Aidan didn’t even look up as he reached for a new ream of paper and loaded his typewriter.

“He was truly alone surrounded by a million people…”

He was truly alone surrounded by a million people. The Painter had left his tiny hometown to pursue his big dreams. Everyone was so proud of him. He was moving to the Big City to be a real artist, to be a Painter following his calling. He’d been here for a year now, and was getting by just fine. Friends from back home would call every so often, and someone was usually here visiting or on business or passing through while traveling. He’d met some new friends, gone out on a couple of dates, even met some fellow artists. But you’ve never met a man more alone. Each morning he woke with a dull sense of despair. It took all the effort in the world to get out of bed, even more to get dressed, and even more to open his front door. Most days found him lounging lethargically on his couch at home, watching a blank TV screen. He’d stare intently at his phone and pray for it to ring. If he was feeling particularly courageous, he’d call someone; maybe a friend from back home, maybe a business contact. He almost always would reach a voice mail. “Hey, let’s hang out sometime.” Nothing says alone like hanging up a phone.

Sometimes he’d go sit at a coffee shop. He’d order the biggest cup of coffee they sell, sit alone facing the door, and wait for someone meaningful to come inside. He’d watch smiling people laughing as they walked by outside, and wished that they were him. It wasn’t even uncommon for a pretty girl to smile at him and say hello. But he never felt like he was a part of it all. Instead, he’d feel sick from the coffee, sick from his loneliness, sick from the panic of dying alone. Sometimes when a new gallery was opening, the Painter would get invited. And more often than not, he’d make up an excuse to not go. “Oh, I’m actually busy that night. Me and a bunch of friends are going out.” “I actually have a date that night.” “Wow, I’d really love to go, but I’m super swamped with other stuff… next time for sure.” And he’d sit by himself in his room, completely alone.

He loved going to live shows. Concerts, the theatre, plays, even operas were all a chance to feel a part of something bigger. He’d always, always, buy two tickets. He told himself that by the time the show came around, there’d be someone in his life he could share it with. But he always went alone. He’d invite friends he knew couldn’t make it, just to pretend he’d tried. He’d go alone, be a part of a thousand person crowd, and get overlooked by everyone.

The Painter’s apartment was right next door to a hospital, and he was deathly jealous of the sirens that wailed through the night. Everyone riding in an ambulance was special for those fifteen minutes; you can’t be alone with people trying to save your life. Sometimes he’d sit in the waiting room of the ER and pretend like he was waiting on the news of a loved one’s fate. There was a certain sense of camaraderie that he shared with the others waiting there. He could make their pain his; and for a few seconds, he almost felt un-alone. Coming to the ER became a bit of a routine. And the scary thing was the Painter could see himself doing this for the rest of his life.

There was no crash of thunder, no sulfurous smokes of Hades, no chasms opening to the underworld. There was only a whisper and a suggestion He kept making to Aidan. “You must be doing the right thing. It’s for your father, who cares if this actually comes true. If it sells, you can save your father.” Aidan looked up again with the light of passion in his eyes. “If it sells, I can help Dad. Who cares if it comes true?” He smiled and looked over Aidan’s shoulder as he wrote. He liked them when they were like this, desperate, at wits end, and just starting to feel empowered. His work was really too easy sometimes. Hardly work at all when these humans kept digging their own graves. Aidan picked up his cell phone, dialed the hospital, and waited for the answer. “Yes, hello? Aidan Masters. Go ahead and begin the treatment on my father. I’ll have the money.” Excellent, He said, and slowly left the room.

The Nurse kept running from the grey: the grey of her life, of the lines between life and death, the grey of Her City. Perhaps it’s better to say that she wanted to keep running. But it seemed that for each step she took away from the cold of the Emergency Room, the cold of her husband, and the cold of her numb heart she found it easier to turn around and embrace what she’d always known. She hadn’t seen her son in weeks. She hadn’t slept by her husband’s side in months. She’d gone through the motions of smiling and winking and laughing with the people in her life, but deep inside all she wanted to do was to run away from it all, to cut through the grey.

And then one morning it struck her. This morning she would finally take a stand. She would escape by running no more: she would make a change in her life. She didn’t know what it would be, but today, today was the day. She drove to the Emergency Room with a renewed sense of purpose. Finally she was running, and it wasn’t away from anything at all, it was towards her destiny. She strode in with confidence and determination. Anyone who looked at her could tell that there was something about her today. A young man with paint on his nose looked up from a family he was consoling in the waiting room and eyed her with admiration. “I’ll bet she’s never alone”.

Aidan paused at his typewriter. What should the Nurse do…? She could quit her job, quit her life, and travel the world. She could save a thousand lives today. Anything to escape the numbness of her grey world. Or she could… Yes, this will do…

For so long she had been running from the cold grey futility of trying to change people’s exit from this life. Save a life here, give final comfort there – this was the life of her as a Nurse. But if there was a place where she could take control for once in her life, here, with life and death hanging in the balance, here is where there would be the most meaning. Here is the stuff reserved for the gods.

She grabbed the first chart that caught her eye, and headed into the patient’s room. “This’ll do…” she whispered to herself. “Room 408, your destiny is about to change…”

She rushed out of the room so that no one would see that she had been with the patient in his final hour, been the cause of the monotone death wail that came from the machine that so carefully recorded his every heartbeat. The pandemonium of nurses and doctors trying to revive him with crash carts and chemicals brought the smallest of smiles to her face. Today she had made a difference, had changed the fate of a person with finality.

Aidan’s cell phone rang, and its vibrations caused it to dance across the desk. It almost seemed alive. He ignored it. How much time had gone by? Hours? Weeks? It didn’t matter. He had to finish writing.

The Child sat at his desk at school, cold and disturbed. Death sat in the corner of the room, pointing at random flies and spiders, causing them to fall lazily to their deaths on the classroom floor. “He’s dying, you know. Your step-dad. Your mom too, every day she spends with him she dies a little bit more. You know that cough your step-dad makes?” Death put his hands to his mouth and the most retched coughs (a perfect imitation of the ones the Child would hear every night) filled the classroom for no one but the Child to hear. “That cough is the call for me to come and get him. I will someday, you know.” Another fly fell to its end as Death raised an eyebrow.

Tears filled the Child’s eyes as he looked up at the friend he’d always known and never been without. “Why don’t you leave me alone!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, causing the students around him to jump up from their desks in a panic. The teacher stopped her lesson with her own tears filling her eyes, and simply pointed to the classroom door. The Child slowly packed up his things and trudged out the hall.

He was supposed to go to the principal’s office he knew; he had been there countless times before. But this time, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted to be free of Death’s whispers, of Death’s touch on his life. He followed his feet, out the building, out the front gate, out onto the street. It was here where…

“Where…” Aidan drummed his fingers on the desk as he struggled for a direction to take this thought. His cell phone beeped once letting him know he had a voice message. “Where…”

“Where the hell is 858 31st street?” The Painter muttered to himself as he scanned the buildings around him while barely keeping one eye on the road. One eye is never enough to see the whole road, much less a Child wandering aimlessly out onto a street. The squeal of breaks, the shriek of tires, and the sickening crunch of metal and bone filled the crosswalk and seemed to echo in the silence that followed. Unseen to anyone, Death shook his head, spat on the Child’s body, and disappeared.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god…” the Painter mumbled as he rocked back and forth, clutching himself in the driver’s seat of his stopped car. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god…” he opened his car door, and somehow managed to walk forward while shying away from the view that awaited him in front of his car. “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD…” There was blood everywhere. So bright and so red. Everywhere. “This can’t be happening oh my god oh my god oh my god. What the hell am I going to do oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

The Painter looked around in a panic. The street was empty. No one had seen the accident. No one knew his secret. He leaned over and stretched out a finger to feel the Child’s pulse. Nothing – the Child was finally alone. And then, in a flash of purpose - the Painter scooped the Child’s mangled body into his arms, tried to open the passenger door, dropped the body, cursed, opened the door, managed to prop the lifeless form upright in the seat, shut the door, cursed again as it caught on the body’s arm, pushed the arm into the car, quickly shut the door until it locked with a click, rushed to the drivers door, opened it, jumped in, and slammed it shut. No one had seen anything.

The Painter sat in his seat with both hands on the wheel, chest rising and falling quickly as he breathed deeply. He stole a glance over to his passenger, and then quickly looked ahead. He’d have to clean up. He sped off home, and soon was back at his car with a bucket of water and sponge. The car was soon clean, as was the body. He put some sunglasses on the Child’s corpse so random passerby’s wouldn’t notice, and headed off towards the hospital. He could drop the body there.

But something strange happened on his drive to the Emergency Room. The Painter kept looking over at the lifeless body in the passenger seat, and noticed he had done a good job cleaning. In fact, if you didn’t look too closely, the Child looked like any normal sleeping kid. The Painter could swear that people looked at him differently as he drove by. They could see that he was just a normal Painter with a normal Child next to him. And for once, the Painter didn’t feel alone. He had a passenger. He turned to drive through the heart of the city. The hospital can wait for now.

He didn’t know how long he drove, but eventually he knew that he would have to go to the hospital. He was quite sad, actually. This time with the Child had opened his eyes – since moving here he had prayed to cure his loneliness – but it had nothing to do with other people. It had everything to do with how he saw himself. From here on, he would make a true effort to reach out to the people around him, instead of being content to hide in his fear by himself. From here on…

His thoughts were cut short as the wails of sirens and flashing lights greeted him at the entrance to the Emergency Room. Countless voices yelled at him to get out of his car with his hands up. The Painter had never had a gun pointed at him, and panic again filled him as he climbed awkwardly out of the car. “My son is hurt!” He yelled fervently. “He needs medical attention!” He kept screaming protests about the Child, about who he really believed was his son. The screams fell on deaf ears though as he was handcuffed and pushed into the back of a police car. Someone had seen the whole accident; there are no secrets in this world. And as the Painter sat in the back of the police car, he couldn’t help but notice all the flashing lights, all the staring onlookers, all the news vans were here for him and him only. He was finally important to people, he had escaped being alone.

A knock on the door pulled Aidan’s eyes up from his typewriter. How much time had gone by? He stood up irritably and pulled the door to his apartment open. “What the fuck do you want! I’m writing here, I’m trying to save my Dad!” Aidan’s mother stood in the doorway, her eyes red and puffy from hours of crying. “It’s your father,” she said without emotion. She was completely spent of any feeling. “He’s dead”.

“But that’s impossible!” Aidan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I authorized the treatment; he’s going to be fine!”

“No son, he died early this morning. Why didn’t you pick up your phone? Apparently there was some sort of mistake in treatment. They’re looking into it. The hospital thinks it was negligence on someone’s part. Come on, we have to go to the hospital to sign some paperwork.”

As Aidan and his mother left the room, there was no crash of thunder, no sulfurous smokes of Hades, no chasms opening to the underworld. Ever so calmly He took his seat at Aidan’s typewriter and began to type with a constant, monotonous rhythm.

The Nurse held her son’s lifeless body close as she wept for what seemed like an eternity. The glow of the police car sirens faded away eventually, as did the curious onlookers. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t seen her son in weeks, the cruelty of the black and white reality she had to face was more than she could bear. Eventually the coroners came to take the Child’s body, and she walked aimlessly inside the Emergency Room. She walked up to the counter and began signing the paper work necessary for the death of a relative. “Funny,” she whispered, “that life ends…”

“…with just some paperwork”. Aidan muttered to himself. He looked up and saw a Nurse with the same tiredness of eyes that spoke of a loss greater than loss of life itself. She too was filling out the same forms as he, and something drew her to him. He put down his pen, walked over to her, and without a word gave her an embrace that spoke of the loss they both could share and had to endure.

A black moon rose that night over the Painter in his cell, the Child in the morgue, and the Nurse and Aidan sitting together at the hospital. In time Aidan would surely find out who the cause of his father’s death was. Surely the Nurse would find something to run away from again. But for tonight, they could share each other’s pain, and perhaps offer the smallest hint of comfort and deluded hope. And as the constant rhythm of keys pressed on an antique typewriter in an empty room fades slowly away, the last thing to hear them is simply the greatest audience in the world: the wind.

...And so the wind doth blow across the land,

Taking with it the grains of Time's sand.

Another tale closes its pages

Until opened again by history's sages

Read more!

Pan's Tale

Ages come and go, ceaselessly without fail,

History and prophecy the lives of mankind's tales.

And lo another story starts to flow

As across the land the wind doth blow...

The wind was a breeze really, and barely enough to cool young Pan. He was standing with a dozen other sweating boys, squinting in the scorching sun. The Heat of the sun seemed to be getting stronger and hotter every year, and today's Midsummer Day was even more unbearable than most. It didn't help either that he Pan was being forced to sing. He hated singing.

"Now, again from the top, Princely hopefuls!" Zimri was the oldest old man Pan had ever seen, and yet as frail as he seemed, the Heat didn't seem to be affecting him at all. His black jacket was closed, his shirt buttoned to the top, and not a drop of sweat was on his ancient white brow. He raised his conductor's baton once again, and with a sweeping motion started singing. His sonorously deep voice contrasted so strongly with the cracking of the boys as they tried their best to sing along.

My heart's been waiting

For the Love of my Life,

A princess is out there

Who'll be my wife...

And when will I find her I ask of you?

My one true Happily Ever After...

Zimri held the tone with magnificent precision, but the teens were less than perfect. Zimri shook his head with equal parts sadness and disappointment. There was a time when young Pre-Princes wanted to learn how to sing... these boys just didn't seem to care - they were so much more interested in sword fighting, riding horses, and killing dragons than learning about singing... and don’t even get started on their interest in dancing! As Zimri heard the last traces of his note fade away to the upper reaches of the Castle Triton's courtyard walls, it was suddenly picked up by the sweetest breath of honey Zimri had heard in a long time. Young Perfora was entering the courtyard, and it seemed the Heat could not touch her either. She was the best Pre-Princess pupil any of the teachers at Triton Castle had seen in a long while – and she was beautiful… the boys equally lost their tongues and couldn’t keep quiet around her. Her golden hair was perfectly curled, framing her perfectly beautiful round face. Her perfect blue eyes twinkled as she twirled her pink dress as she spun, and her voice was like the pure perfect sugar as she sang...

My heart's been waiting

Can’t you all see,

For a knight who'll come

To rescue me…

And I can't wait for when my Love so true....

Will lead me to Happily Ever After...

She gave a little giggle as she walked past the group of staring boys. She tossed her hair with practiced skill, and pouted her mouth as she put her hands on her hips. Her favorite course this term was definitely Flouncing and Flirting Class.

"Now, I really must have an escort as I walk to my next class. Which of you boys will be so kind?"

A couple of the boys clambered over each other as they raced to take hold of Perfora's arm, ready to walk with her to wherever she was going – be it class or the ends of the earth. Pan looked after them, and felt not even the slightest pang of envy.

"I really don't get it," Pan said to one of the boys next to him. "What’s the big deal with all this singing and dancing and boring artsy stuff we have to do? All so that what, we can be dragged along by girls like Perfora? I mean, she's beautiful, yes, but she's so... so..."

"Boring?" One of the boys talking to Pan laughed.

“Stuck up?” Another boy sniggered. He put his hands on his hips, lifted his eyes to the heavens, and raised his voice a few octaves, “Oh I really must get a brain one of these days, or I simply shall never be able to get a Prince. And then what ever would I do?”

One boy stood up for her. “Sure she's really not the brightest Princess in training I've met. Like there is such a thing, right? But Pan, that's why we're here at Triton Castle - to learn to be Princes so that we can live Happily Ever After with our One True Love. I can't wait until I rescue my Princess from her Tower!"

Pan hated it when people talked about One True Loves, Happily Ever Afters, True Love's First Kisses, and all sorts of those other things that meant so little to him. It was all make believe story book stuff anyways, and Pan was convinced that people who couldn’t see it that way were either trying to sell something or severely troubled in the brain. And besides, Pan was different from all the rest of the young princes-to-be. He wasn't royalty; not even close. In fact, Pan didn't even know who his parents were... Triton Castle was all he'd ever known and his earliest memory. Some said that Zimri himself had found Pan out in the forest and had brought him to Triton, but no one knew for sure. What was known was he was enrolled in the Pre-Prince program, where the early years had been great; Pan was amazing at horseback riding, at fencing, hunting, tracking, and even the simulated Dragon hunts. It was only of late when classes began focusing more on singing, poetry, and the dreaded dancing that Pan started to think that the life of a Prince wasn't for him. It had all been so exciting and adventurous at first; now, everything was so scripted and expected... there was no mystery in any of it at all.

As Perfora’s lingering presence finally passed, the students noticed that the ancient Zimri had managed to fall asleep while standing yet again; there was nothing left to do but dismiss themselves from singing class. There was no use lingering in the sweltering Heat any longer than necessary. As the boys milled around Pan walked aimlessly, but then brightened when he remembering that a guest lecturer was coming to their fencing class tomorrow. Apparently some famous Prince was going to teach them about real swordsmanship. In fact, he was so preoccupied with dreams of tomorrow’s class that it took him a second to realize how strange it was that while one second he had been walking, the next found him lying face up in the grass with a very sore shoulder.

“Hi Pan”. A mischievously grinning face was hovering over Pan. Her short brown hair hung down around her angled face as she moved to stand over him. Her green eyes were grinning too, and her little nose was wiggling just slightly like it always did when Lil was trying hard not to burst out laughing. Lil stood up and tucked her boy’s shirt into the trousers she always wore, and put her hands on her hips. “You know, you’ve got a long way to go to being a Prince if a little girl can still tackle you.” She pulled back a sleeve on her slender arm to flex her muscle; she was still trying so hard not to laugh. And so was Pan. She put out a hand to help Pan up, and Pan saw his chance.

Putting a mask of mock defeat on his face, he took Lil’s hand but twisted around at the last second so that it was she who was now suddenly flying through the air. With a little yelp she tumbled almost gracefully, and soon both of their laughter filled the courtyard as the two friends were standing up, dusting themselves off. Some of the other boys yelled encouraging words to either Pan or Lil over their shoulders, and Zimri almost stirred from his sleep. Lil was actually one girl Pan could stand to be around. She was an orphan like him, but rather than being enrolled at Triton Castle’s Pre-Princess program, Lil worked with the horses – her true passion. And, cementing her friendship with Pan was the fact that she shared the same sort of disdain for the Pre-Princess students like Perfora. Needless to say, the other females didn’t really like her much either. They would always speak so sweetly to her face, and then whisper words of venom about how she was so like a boy, what with the way she dressed and kept her hair ever so short. At first Lil tried to explain the difficulties of working with wild horses wearing a fancy dress or long hair, but recently she would just smile and say how very pretty they all where and that they simply must teach her how to dress and wear makeup someday.

“So, there’s some sort of guest lecturer in fencing tomorrow,” Pan said excitedly to Lil as they joined the crowds of boys and girls walking to the Great Hall for evening meal. “You should totally come! You know Lance would let you drop in on his class. Besides, you’re a better swordsman than most of the boys.”

“Swords-woman Pan. And I just might have to do that. See you tomorrow then!” She shot him a smile and a punch on the arm as they entered the Great Hall, and she ran off to join the servants’ table. Pan took his seat with his fellow Pre-Prince classmates, and dug messily into his food with voracious hunger.

In quiet contrast to the two handed feeding frenzy of the boys, tables like Perfora’s were controlled, quiet examples of etiquette. Silverware clinked softly on china; crystal rung as glasses were raised and lowered. The young women looked regal in exquisite dresses in all sorts of pale blues, yellows, and greens. Each of them had exquisite hair and makeup. Each was chatting politely and quietly to their neighbors, and each always had a napkin at the ready to catch the slightest spill or mess.

“So, I simply cannot decide on which Tower to choose!” Perfora in her pink dress was commanding the attention of the girls around her. “Graduation is coming soon, and we’ll have to decide what Tower to wait in until our One True Love comes to rescue us. I really cannot choose between the Dragon Tower, the Tower of Fire, or the Island Tower.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be caught dead in any tower with dragons or fire,” one beautiful Pre-Princess in green was saying gracefully, “just think of what that heat would do to your hair !”

There were nods and sounds of agreement from around the table, but Perfora tossed her head irritably and remarked, “Don’t be silly; the Towers we live in are magic, there’s no danger to us. Weren’t you paying attention in Distressed Damsels class? I just want to make sure of the Prince I want to attract, someone daring or cunning… and then we can live Happily Ever After!”

At a table on the other side of the Great Hall, Pan was talking around a mouthful of meat and gesturing with his fork and knife. “The thing I don’t get about Happily Ever After, if there even is such a thing, is where’s the fun? So yeah, you fight a dragon, climb the tower, rescue the Princes; that all sounds like a blast. But then what? A life of singing, poetry, painting, and dancing?” He shuddered. “I don’t think so. Sounds pretty boring to me…”

“But these boys are such… such… boys,” Back at the women’s table, Perfora was genuinely concerned. “My step-mum told me that she met her prince at school, but all these Princes in training are so childish. All they want to do is fence and ride horses and hunt. I hope One Day My Prince Will Come. Oh, I simply cannot wait for the day! He’ll write me songs and we’ll dance all day long everyday! Oh! Dancing! Ladies, have you heard the news? We’ll be dancing tomorrow in class! I simply cannot wait!”

“Oh but guys,” Pan was gesturing with a turkey leg, his eyes shining in anticipation. “We’ll be doing real live fencing tomorrow in class. I can’t wait!” A dozen full mouths made equally excited noises, and soon all talk gave way to the real mission at hand.

Dinner was soon over, and the young Pre-Princes and Pre-Princesses made their ways back to their rooms for sleep. Tomorrow promised exciting classes for both Pan and Perfora; sleep came slowly for each of them as they lay in anticipation of the next day.

********

“I can’t believe we have to dance…” Pan was standing in a half circle of nervous looking Princes in training, trying to look everywhere but at the half circle of beautiful Princess to be’s standing across from them. The tables had been stacked in the corners of the Great Hall (the Heat had grown again today, and it wasn’t safe to be outside), and Zimri and a half dozen other teachers walked around the room keeping any of the boys from acting on anything but their best behavior. Lil sat on top of one of the stacks of tables, her head resting on her knee, and watched the whole scene with a quiet grin. Pan looked over at her, begging her in his mind for her to create some sort of diversion so he could escape, but she only stuck her tongue out at him teasingly.

“Now young men!” The dance teacher was a plump Fairy Godmother with her hair in a bun. “The dance is an ever so graceful coupling between men and women. You must learn to feel the connection between you and your partner, to be very proper like the young gentlemen I know you are all trying to be. So, please step forward, take your lady’s hand, bow, and say ‘how do you do’”

Pan and the rest of the boys shuffled forward, took the hands of the women awkwardly, bobbed a bow that looked more like a twitch, and mumbled “howdyudo”. Pan looked up then to see a pair of crystal clear blue eyes set in a perfectly round face, curtained by perfectly curled golden hair, enhanced perfectly by a tiny wreath of pink flowers. Perfora dropped a curtsey in perfect unison with the rest of the girls in her line, and they seemed to speak as one with a clear and sweet, “How do you do?”

“Now men, take your right hand and hold her lightly behind the shoulder.” The Fairy Godmother was moving around the room repositioning the boy’s hands here, adjusting slouching stances there. “Good good! Now, just like we practiced: one step back, one step sideways, one step forward, and turn! Over and over again! Zimri, some music please?”

The old musician snapped awake from where he had been dozing, and began to sing in a deep and melodious voice.

Take your Princess by the hand,

Be sure to bring her along,

Lets all dance – don’t get the steps all wrong,

Twirl around and around like a magic fan,

As we sing this special dancing song!

It was much less than graceful. There was many a stepped on foot, many a stumbling embrace, but thankfully no one was seriously hurt. And what do you know, as time moved on, the couples actually began to get the dance. But Pan’s mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking about the special swordsmanship class later on that day. Dancing was so boring… after learning this one step, he found he didn’t even need to think about what he was doing as he repeated over and over again the same steps. It was so much simpler than any of the forms or footwork they learned in fencing. Perfora seemed to be enjoying herself though as she stepped enthusiastically to Zimri’s singing.

“Oh Pen!” she beamed. “Isn’t this so wonderful?”

“It’s Pan. And no its not. Stop stepping on my feet.”

But Perfora was in her own little world, doing whatever she pleased. And she did look good, even if it was at the expense of Pan’s toes. She was spinning with such flourishes (seemingly oblivious to Pan’s patient lead), and the untrained eye would say she was doing quite well. Dance class went on and on, and Pan danced the same dance with partner after partner, until finally the castle’s chimes signified dance class was over.

“Thank goodness! Time for sword fighting!”

******************

“As you no doubt have heard,” Lance, the Head of Arms Training was addressing his wide eyed Pre-Prince pupils, “we have a very special guest today. He’s an old friend of mine, and comes to us from a very Far, Far Away… Please give your respect to the ever fair, ever just, ever patient warrior - Art! He’s lived a full Prince’s life – found his One True Love, ran a Kingdom, and yet still never forgot how to use the blade.” Lance’s smile twitched briefly, and seemed forced as he embraced the other man. The meeting of their eyes was a cold stare that threatened to push away even the incessant Heat.

“How’s Gwen?” Lance’s lips barely moved, and his voice was barely a growl.

“Fine.” Art’s answer was little more than a whisper. He was a solid man, and the grey at his temples did nothing to hide his natural power and presence. Art’s face was weathered and strong, but his pale grey eyes held a sort of sadness that only comes with a lifetime of Love and Loss.

“Art is the finest swordsman around!” Lance had released his stare, and was addressing his students once again. “Listen closely to what he says; his knowledge and experience are truly impressive. Alright then, let’s break off now into groups…”

Soon the boys found themselves standing nervously in two half circles, facing each other. Each held his practice sword shakily in his hand, getting ready to do a much different type of dance than the kind they had endured just hours before. Lance and Art stood in the center of the circle explaining the drills and rules of today’s lesson. Pan looked across the circle to see who he’d be paired up with for the first part of today’s exercise, and was happy to see Lil’s green eyes winking at him from behind her sword.

“Just so you gentlemen can see what we mean, we shall now demonstrate.” Lance and Art squared off, their swords instantly at the ready. With perfect unison they stood up straight, raised their swords in salute to each other, and then returned to their crouching ready position, slowly circling each other and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

With a flash, the two figures met with blinding speed of both body and blade. The wilting grass between their feet was quickly trampled flat as the two men whirled and crashed into each other with a dynamic strength and grace that had all the boys staring intently. As suddenly as they had begun, the two men simultaneously separated, saluted, and turned to the two half circles of boys facing each other. “Now it’s your turn.”

Pan smiled nervously at Lil, and was glad to see that her normally confident grin was for once replaced with pursed lips that were just as intent and serious as he was. An eerie silence gave only the briefest of precursors to the intense clamor that followed; students tried their best to mimic and remember all of the teachings they had received this year; it was the only thing that could keep their partner at bay. Pan’s feet and hands moved so quickly they soon became a blur, and Lil matched them perfectly in time and rhythm. Back, sideways, forward, turning; around and around Pan and Lil moved, striking and blocking each other’s attempts to break guard. They soon had an audience, as first the other boys and then finally Lance and Art stood to watch the pair as they moved faster and faster together.

Art began to sing in a low, melancholy voice. Lance looking up sharply in surprise; then seemingly nodded assent to himself and joined in. No one else could hear them as they sung barely louder than a whisper, though oddly Pan and Lil seemed to step in perfect time to their melody.

A call goes out to the defenders of the land,

Who will be brave and come along?

Our swords will sing now the warrior’s song…

From the forest to the seas to the sand,

Take up arms to join your brothers strong!

“Hold!” Art stepped forward between the pair, who gladly welcomed the break and stood panting – thrilled with the exhilaration and exhausted from the effort. “Pan! Lil! Very well done. You’ve shown one of the key elements of the perfect engagement of the blade… that it truly is an engagement. You’ve both done well in feeling each other out; in understanding your opponent and becoming one with them will you find true success. You two must know each other quite well to be able to dance the blades like that…

Pan blushed and looked down as his fellow classmates jeered and whistled loudly.

“Yeah Pan, how well do you know little Lil!”

“Yes yes! Pan and Lil do spend a lot of time together, don’t they!”

“Now we know why Pan’s always talking so lowly about beautiful Perfora; he’s got short haired Lil on the mind!”

“Pan! Why didn’t you say you were so in love! Why don’t you go give her True Love’s First Kiss?”

And then Pan didn’t know why he said it. Perhaps it was because he’d always been an orphan, always wanted to belong. Maybe it was because he had just gone from being so admired at the blade a second ago to being made fun of now. Maybe it was because the Heat was getting to him. Who knows. But he said it.

“I don’t’ know what you guys are talking about. Lil just isn’t Princely material at all, is she; she’s just a mere stable girl!” Pan’s words caused the tense air to snap like a tightly pulled bowstring. Lil’s face crumbled for a second and then instantly hardened. Her green eyes were no longer grinning; instead, they were replaced with the dull shine of a star that has long since burnt itself out. The other boys laughed nervously and looked down at their feet; Lance was soon quickly calling for new drills and new partners, and dutifully Pan and the boys obeyed. Oddly enough, it was Art who seemed to take the whole outburst and interaction the worst… his grey eyes seemed to sink even further inward, and he did not pick up a practice sword for the rest of the afternoon. Neither Pan nor Lil caught each other’s eye for the rest of the session; neither did they ever square off to dance blades again. Before long, the Heat had become almost unbearable, and the boys found themselves saluting Art, returning their practice swords to the racks, and heading inside for evening meal. Pan lingered back to hopefully catch Lil on their way in, but she was in deep conversation with Art. Pan shook his head and followed his peers. He kept looking back, hoping to catch Lil’s eye, but she never looked up to see him. When she finally did turn away to walk back to her room, no one was lucky enough to hear her singing; no one heard the purest voice to ever grace this land.

Love is not what it seems,

Love can only kill your dreams…

There’s a fate I once pursued,

He’s killed it straight and true,

It’s not his dream…

*****************

Pan never saw Lil again while he was at Triton Castle; rumor had it that she had left with Art after his guest fencing lecture. Truth be told, in the years that followed she wasn’t really that missed - least of all by Perfora. “Well, she was such an odd little stable girl, wasn’t she? What with the way she dressed, and oh, her hair, it was ever so short and, well, it was such like a boy’s. She had potential, that one, but she’ll never be like us, oh will she, sisters?” Perfora was again engaging a group of beautiful Pre-Princesses as they gathered one last time before their most anticipated moment: Tower Selection and Graduation. “Oh, and I do think I have decided what Tower I’m choosing. It’ll most definitely have to be the Dragon Tower. Oh how I do want a Prince who is oh so strong and brave!” Where Perfora had just been sitting was suddenly a mass of pastel dresses and curled hair embracing and congratulating her.

“Oh I am ever so happy for you!”

“Perfora, I wish you all of the very best!”

“Oh Perfora, I do hope you find the most amazing Prince who can sing, and dance, and oh!”

In another room of Triton Castle - safe from the ever sweltering Heat - the boys, no; young men now, were as nervous as the women were excited. Their anticipation of the unknown found them giving last minute advice to each other before they rode on their mission to find their Happily Ever After.

“Right then chaps, ride hard and strong through the Forests of Fear, and don’t eat any apples!”

“And don’t believe the Wood Nymphs, no matter what they say!”

“Don’t take too long dealing with the Ogres; they’re stupid and slow. But watch out for the pirates!”

“And if you meet a Dragon…” Pan was so nervous he felt sick, but he still spoke with an excited fervor. “…if you meet a Dragon, you must be sure to stare it in the eye while you drive you sword into its heart; that’s the only way to defeat one!”

Each of the young men were dressed in shining armor, their swords sharpened and ready at their sides. They had gone through every course that the Triton Pre-Prince program had in store for them, and they were ready – ready to face all sorts of mortal danger in the hopes of finding their One True Love and living Happily Ever After. And soon they would ride. The door to the small room opened, and a silence fell across the young men. Lance entered the room and looked each young knight in the eye, silently giving his approval as he paced the floor.

“Today you become men!” His voice was deep and strong. “You’ll have the greatest adventure of your life – face the greatest of mortal dangers and rescue a Princess in distress. Your Happily Ever After begins today; enjoy it gentlemen!”

Filled with excitement for the adventure ahead, Pan for once forgot to think about how the rest of Happily Ever After was all singing and dancing. He raised his sword with his other peers and cheered the loudest of all.

Back with the young women, every pair of wide newly-made Princess eyes were staring up intently at the plump Fairy Godmother who was giving them last minute instructions.

“Now ladies! Each of you know in your heart where your True Love lies; if ever you lose hope, you must hold on to your hope that your Happily Ever After is soon to come! No matter what may happen to you, you must believe that nothing is more powerful that your True Love’s First Kiss. Now! Hold in your minds the Tower you wish to go to, and the face of your One True Love who will rescue you. And remember, when your Prince defeats all sorts of evil and shows such great bravery and arrives at the door of your Tower, you must remember all you’ve learned so you can make him fall so Deeply In Love.” The Fairy Godmother’s eyes shone with pride as she looked each Princess in the eye, silently giving her approval as she paced the floor. With a final stern smile, she clapped both hands twice, causing more than a few girls to instinctively stand up straight and fix their dresses. “Alright then ladies! Blithe Smiles and Lithe Limbs! Here’s to your Happily Ever After!”

And with the sound of a thousand church bells ringing in the Spring Time Wind, the ladies disappeared in a cloud of rose scented pastel smoke, each Magically carried to their Tower of choice, ready to wait for their One True Love to rescue them. Just outside in the courtyard of Triton Castle, the thunderous clamor of hooves announced the bravery and heroism of the young Princess as they rode out to seek their destiny, live their adventure, and rescue their One True Love.

*****************

“Can you believe this news?”

“It’s unheard of! Preposterous!”

“It cannot be! There is no way!”

Pandemonium had erupted in the Great Hall of Triton Castle. An emergency meeting had been called, and each of the teachers was reacting to the shocking news that was coming in from messengers from every corner of the Land: Princes and Princess were dying on their Adventures. Since the dawn of Time, as long as anyone could remember, the Adventures to find Happily Ever Afters had always been protected by the Magic of the land. The same Magic that kept Princesses safe in their Towers kept Princes from harm on their quests as well. But now it was changing… Princesses were dying in their Towers, and Princes were losing mortal battles with Ogres, Wolves, and Dragons. The greatest sages throughout the Land had their theories on what was happening; most blamed the Heat, saying it was breaking down the natural protections. Whatever it was, it was making what was normally a sacred and safe fact of life a very real threat.

“The elves report two more Princes felled by Dragons!”

“The dwarves give word that four of our Princesses have withered away in their Towers!”

“How can this be? The Magic has always held them safely!”

“Is young Perfora safe? How is she?”

Perfora, actually, was quite safe for the moment. She was very hot, yes, as the Heat pounded mercilessly on her Tower. And she was scared, as the Dragon outside was very real and very menacing. But she had Hope that her One True Love was coming soon, and so long as she clung to that, she felt as though she could survive another day. But she did wish that he would come soon…

Pan, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was much better suited to the adventurous life than some of his more, well, Princely peers. He had braved all sorts of dangers – Extremely Large Four Legged Vermin, man-eating forests, a couple of Sphinxes, countless Trolls, all just to name a few – and was triumphing through it all. Sure the Heat seemed to be especially harsh and was riling up the beasts quite a bit, but it was all what Pan had been trained to do. He wouldn’t change it for the world. But before long, the inevitable happened. He crested a hill and saw a tower coming into focus in the distance; that meant just one more battle before Happily Ever After. His sigh held a tinge of regret as he knew this part of the adventure would soon be over. The blood curdling scream of the most voracious, Heat maddened Dragon that anyone had ever heard soon brought a smile to Pan’s lips though.

For a second Perfora forgot the Heat and an equally bright smile lit up her face. What was merely a speck on the horizon was what she’d been waiting her whole life for; a Knight was fast approaching! Her smile was soon replaced with a shocked scream as the Tower window was filled for a moment with scales and teeth. She had never seen a real Dragon so close before, and all the hatred in the world filled its eyes as it seemed to stare for hours deep into Perfora’s soul. But in just an instant the beast was gone, beating its massive wings and streaking out towards the brave Knight with whom it would soon dance in battle with.

Now this was a challenge. Pan’s smile faded into concentration, and survival became the priority. Pan’s horse was long since dead – the Dragon had seen to that early in the fight – but Pan was proving to be a much more worthy opponent. Both beast and man had managed to score damage on each other, and while the Dragon was growing impatient – it was used to quick and decisive victories – Pan was biding his time, waiting for the Dragon to make a mistake. Flurries of wings met precise strikes of the sword; and while fiery breath scorched the countryside, Pan was managing to remain un-singed. But Pan was tiring. He had ridden for many weeks and battled countless monsters before this one. As the hours dragged on, Pan realized that even if fresh, no human can outlast a full sized Dragon. And soon, the inevitable happened – his foot caught on a random rock, and he fell to his back. The Dragon was on him in an instant, eyes mad with the Heat and teeth dripping with the anticipation of victory. Panic began to rise in Pan’s heart, and he started to shut his eyes to face his end. He could feel the breath of the Dragon on him. He could smell the power of death, taste its rot. But what he saw and heard came unbidden from memories of Triton Castle.

I’m holding a practice sword. I’m smiling.

Lance is speaking. “…you’ve shown one of the key elements of the perfect engagement of the blade… that it truly is an engagement. You’ve both done well in feeling each other out; in understanding your opponent and becoming one with them will you find true success…”

Lil is holding a practice sword. She’s smiling. Her eyes are so green.

One with your opponent. Stare a Dragon in the eye, sword through its heart. That’s the only way. One with your opponent. Sword through its heart. Her eyes are so green…

Pan’s eyes shot open and met the Dragon’s with a piercing stare, and in an instant the primal fury that drove the Dragon realized that it was facing its own mortal end. In an instant they were one; Pan saw what the Dragon saw. He saw how the Heat was driving all the monsters of the land to break the Magic protections that had held so long. He saw the deaths of countless Princes and Princesses, and the destruction of the old ways. He saw the source of the Heat. It came from… it came from the West. Far in the West. And it must be stopped. Everyone’s Happily Ever After depended on it.

And then it was over. Pan didn’t even remember driving his sword through the Dragon’s heart; their eyes were still locked as the fire of madness and Heat faded away from the beast’s eyes.

Pan’s mind was on other things as he climbed the stairs to the Tower. Perfora really was quite lovely as she stood there in all her beauty. And she really did do all the right things as she was taught: her hair was beautifully curled, her head tilted just so, her lips slightly apart, and her eyes shone like stars.

“Oh Pan! You were ever so brave to defeat that horrible creature! How can I ever repay you? Because well, well Pan, my heart… its been waiting…”

My heart's been waiting

Can’t you all see,

For a knight who'll come

To rescue me

And I can't wait for when my Love so true....

The air was silent as Perfora looking up at Pan expectantly, nodding her head to invite him to finish their song. But Pan whispered something completely different:

All is not what it seems,

It’ll soon kill our dreams…

There’s a fate I once pursued,

Now I know it’s not true.

I’ve got a new dream…

The silence was deafening. Perfora’s face started to falter, but she just barely managed to keep her sweet smile shining through tears. Pan’s mind was reeling. He had to stop the Heat from destroying their land. He must stop these monsters from hurting more people. The Magic must be restored; he must go West.

Perfora’s smile finally faded. It was replaced with shock and horror, and as Pan turned and walked back down the stairs without saying a word she finally broke from her Princess-like calm. He could hear her frantic pleas echoing after him as he made his way out of the Tower. Desperation filled her voice as he turned and started walking West.

“But wait! I’m a Princess! You have to rescue me! That’s the way it goes! Where’s my Happily Ever After!”

****************

In the years that passed, things never really were quite the same. Fear drove people to leave their villages to live in larger cities; and even then they weren’t safe. Attacks from Evil Monsters were always increasing, only adding to the number of lives taken from the Heat. Princes and Princesses weren’t even allowed to seek their Adventures anymore after completing their training; and even though they tried to make do and forget the dreadful times with extravagant dances, balls, and feasts, over time even these festivities couldn’t hide the fact that things were seriously wrong, and that life for everyone – humans, elves, dwarves, princes, and farmers - was resembling a prison.

But there was hope. There were rumors and legends about a rogue band of Knights who were out to fight the Heat. They were camped in the West doing battle each and every day, and many a Castle and city were saved by these brave and valorous fighters. These saviors were shrouded in mystery though; they escaped just as swiftly as they appeared – always in the nick of time to save the day but never staying long enough to be recognized.

But Pan had found his calling at last. Traveling West after leaving Perfora’s tower, Pan faced countless Monsters, each more powerful and maddened by the Heat than the last - where once rare, Ogres, Giants, Trolls, and even Werewolves were now commonplace. But any and all types of monsters were falling each day to Pan’s sword. And even Dragons began to fear the legend of the lone Knight who was hell bent on traveling West to stop the Heat. Soon the word of Pan’s solitary efforts spread beyond the Monsters he was defeating, and it wasn’t long before he was approached.

“Pan.”

Pan leaped to his feet, the lightest traces of sleep that he allowed himself to indulge in were falling quickly away as he drew his sword. How had he been surprised? He was never surprised.

Shadows began to take form around him, as men and women both stepped out of the trees and into the moonlight. Each person was armed, though their eyes held no malice for Pan. Their leader was speaking again.

“Pan. We’ve been following you for some days now. You fight well. The Monsters fear you. But you’ll get yourself killed if you keep on the way you’re going. The Heat is more powerful than you can imagine, and one dead legend won’t help our cause at all.”

The moonlight caused the speaker’s cold grey eyes to shine, outlining his powerful jaw and graying temples. As Pan’s eyes began to focus, a rush of relief rose in his heart as he recognized the man at once from his days at Triton Castle.

“Art! Everything I’ve learned about the blade has come from the lesson you gave! I owe you my life a thousand times over.”

“Then give it to me just once. Join our band. Our swords will sing now the warrior’s song, from the forest to the seas to the sand. Take up arms to join your brothers strong!”

And then the entire band of warriors who had been bringing their circle around Pan and Art closer and closer began to sing as one in a low and powerful voice.

A call goes out to the defenders of the land,

Who will be brave and come along?

Our swords will sing now the warrior’s song…

From the forest to the seas to the sand,

Take up arms to join your brothers strong!

“We’ve dedicated our lives to fighting the Heat, and protecting the lives of those the Monsters threaten to destroy. Join us Pan; you can do so much with us than you could ever do on your own.”

A flicker of movement caught Pan’s eye as he sensed a member of the circle turn and disappear into the forest. But nothing could have kept Pan’s heart from filling to near bursting with joy and anticipation. Finally he had a home; finally he had a cause with which his brothers and sisters would support him. He would be an orphan no longer.

***********

Every new day with Pan’s Family of Knights was the best day of Pan’s life. He met Princes and Princesses both who had thought as he did – that there was more to a Happily Ever After than a life of singing and dancing. They all shared the need and desire to live their Adventures and not be resigned to a prescribed life. He met Prince and Princess couples who had joined Art together; more often than not they had fought together against a Monster to rescue the Princess from her Tower. He met farmers, blacksmiths, tailors, and other common folk; Art welcomed everyone who was willing to lend their lives to protect others. He even met Mothers of some of the Princesses he knew from Triton Castle – there had been plenty of Step-Mothers to take over the lives of Dances and Feasts that they had left.

But what Pan loved most - beyond the battles with hordes of Monsters, beyond the fleeting glances of heartfelt joy and thanks of those they’d save – what he surprisingly loved most was the time just after dinner when the sun was stretching its final reach across the land, and everyone would, believe it or not, sing and dance. What was different about this singing and dancing than the singing and dancing that Pan so loathed at Triton? This was, well, real. The songs and dances that his new Family created were born out of true emotion – not the well-practiced steps or notes he learned in his youth. Each song and dance spoke of the Adventure each man and woman was living each and every day.

Pan danced more dances than he could count. He danced with Gwen, Art’s beautiful wife who had the same melancholy stare in her grey eyes. He danced with Isa, a smiling Princess who fought side by side with the largest and most powerful man Pan had ever seen. Ella was a Princess who always had a bit of soot on her nose from some Dragon she had once fought, but her footwork was so amazing she’d often lose her shoes she’d dance so quickly. Princess Rora was an incredible dancer and warrior both, though she usually danced early and went to sleep before anyone else. Gigi’s dancing was so good it seemed like it was from a different world, and her singing was just as good as her swordsmanship.

And then one night, Pan was turning and thanking his partner for an especially good dance when he found himself staring into the eyes of his new dance partner… and they just happened to be the most beautiful pair of green eyes he had ever seen. Her hair was cut short, but it framed her angled face perfectly. Her nose definitely wasn’t twitching with laughter now; she looked more nervous than he had ever seen her before. She took deep breath, and looked up.

“Hi Pan.”

“Hi Lil. I…”

“Pan, let me explain. I didn’t mean to run away. I mean, I did mean to leave, but I never meant to run. And when Art said that he wanted to invite you to join, us, I couldn’t stand it. What I’m saying is, well, Pan, I…”

“Would you like to dance, Lil?”

“Yes. I’d like that very much.”

And dance they did. And the connection that had caused them to dance the blades with such passion so many years before came back to them in a flood. They twisted and turned across the forest floor, and the voices of their Brothers and Sisters rose to meet their dance. Faster and faster they stepped in the embrace of their dance, and soon all eyes were on them.

Art and Gwen stood watching, and for a moment it seemed that the sadness behind their eyes lifted. Rora stirred from her sleep and tapped her foot in time to their dance. Gigi smiled sweetly with the most genuine joy, tucked her hands under her chin, and whispered, “oh, they are so in love…” Isa and her gigantic Prince nodded their heads approvingly as they watched Pan and Lil, and soon joined their dance with a similar passion. Ella kicked off her shoes and joined as well with her very charming Prince, and before long Pan and Lil were surrounded once again by all the Princes, Princesses, and common folk.

As the music faded Pan loosened his embrace slightly and looked down into Lil’s eyes. As her eyes slowly rose to meet his, both of their lips started to move in unison.

There’s a fate I once pursued,

Now I find it in you.

Let’s live our dream…

“It’s always been you Lil. I’ve always known it. You’re the only one who was living her very own Happily Ever After – you didn’t have to go to school to find out what it was.”

“Pan I…”

She looked up at Pan. Her nose was starting to wiggle, just like it did when she was laughing. Her eyes started to close, and as her head leaned forward, Pan felt drawn deeper and deeper into everything that was Lil. He could hear her heart beating faster and faster – or was it just his own? Her scent was all he could breath, her skin all he could feel. And as their faces drew closer and closer it was as if the entire world held its breath in anticipation of something truly Magical.

And in an instant, the moment was shattered. Lil’s body suddenly shook violently in Pan’s arms. Her eyes shot open with shock and pain, and as her body began to spasm Pan looked in horror at the arrow that was sticking out of her side. He couldn’t hear the rising roar of hasty battle around him. He couldn’t really comprehend why his Brothers and Sisters were scrambling and shouting to take up arms. He couldn’t see his comrades falling to unseen arrows. All he knew was that his world, his Happily Ever After was taken from him as quickly as it had been given.

Pan couldn’t really remember how the skirmish had ended, or how many Monsters there were. He was told later that they were Trolls, and that they had been followed for days – as if that was supposed to make him feel better. All he could remember was that it was over as quickly as it had begun, and that in an instant he was brushing Lil’s blood stained hair away from her lifeless green eyes. His tears fell onto her face, and for a moment it seemed like it was she who wept, that it was she who might have the tiniest spark of life. He knelt down and in a moment of desperation put his lips to hers – one final first kiss. But nothing happened.

Art put a hand on Pan’s shoulder. “True Love’s First Kiss? I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Pan. Death is much too real.”

And Death really was too real – He took a part of Pan that night that and never gave it back.

*******************

Pan never did lead his Brothers and Sisters into battle quite like he used to, and in the passing months the legendary fear that his name would strike in the hearts of Monsters soon faded away. And as Pan’s skill and fervor faded, so much more did the relentless onslaught of the Heat increase. Attacks were incessant, and Art’s band of brave warriors was starting to lose battles.

Pan still remembered their first defeat. He had never led a retreat before in his life, and this first one had almost cost him his life. He hadn’t made any mistakes, really, but his mind and heart were a million miles away from the battle at hand. It wasn’t even that he thought that much about Lil… it was just he didn’t think or feel much at all. Art watched as the once magnificent Pan lost focus and drive, and knew the time for drastic action was now.

A change definitely had to be made if the Heat was ever to be driven back. The constant attacks had always had Art on the defensive, but he knew that there was only one way to end this with finality – to go West and shut down the Heat at its source. There would be one and only one chance to do this, and it would take a united effort from all the Lands in order to have the slightest hope of success.

Over the next months Art began secretly inviting the leaders of different cities, castles, races, and armies to meet one-on-one about a master plan for success. No one but Art was involved in the meetings, though all of Pan’s Brothers and Sisters watched anxiously as many a famous leader entered their camp to talk to Art in his tent. Pan saw cunning war lords, regal kings and queens, proud elders, and shifty spies. He even saw his old swordsmanship teacher Lance come meekly into their encampment; Art seemed especially cold when greeting him. Sometimes they would leave soon after meeting, and sometimes they would stay for a few days or even weeks. But one evening Pan had one of the biggest shocks in his life: he never expected to ever see her again.

“Oh why thank you for meeting with me Art, you are so kind. I was absolutely honored when you invited me. It makes me feel so good that you can recognize all that the Pink Princesses of Power have done…”

Perfora was dressed of course in her classic pink, but gone was the fanciful and naïve nature that had always surrounded her. Her face was still as sweet and beautiful as before, but it had lost the round baby-like qualities of youth and been replaced with a much stronger beauty. She was the leader of the Pink Princesses of Power – a group of young women who had decided to forgo any sort of “waiting around in Towers” business and taken to fighting the Heat and Monsters with their own hands. They had proven to be a valuable asset in the past few months, not only in driving away danger again and again, but also in giving everyone some much needed hope. When word that the Pink Princesses of Power were coming, you just had to smile. And what wasn’t to smile about? A group of beautiful women who were ever so nice coming to drive away an oppressive force was enough to push the Heat’s power away for a day.

“Oh that is such a brilliant plan, Art! There is not a doubt in my mind we’ll be able to help.” Pan watched as Perfora came out of Art’s tent with a brilliant smile on her face. “But you simply must allow me to travel with your so very brave men and women for a few days. It’ll be ever so wonderful!”

Art of course graciously agreed, and the bundle of pink joyous optimism settled into the camp. And her mood really did do wonders for morale. Everyone remembered what it was they were fighting for; everyone seemed to sing and dance just a little bit harder; and everyone seemed to laugh and smile just a little bit more; everyone, that is, except Pan.

Pan avoided Perfora at all costs. He didn’t know why he did, really, he just felt as though he should. It wasn’t the fact that he left her there in her Tower years before. It wasn’t because she had represented so much of what was wrong with time at Triton Castle. It wasn’t even because everyone thought that they would be the perfect couple if they would ever just speak to each other. But the truth of the matter was that Pan quite scared of falling in Love again. And yet he was.

Everything about Perfora seemed wrong… but there she was: beautiful, charming, and ever so good; and most recently strong, brave, and committed to defeating the Heat. Pan would start to steal looks at Perfora during their evening dances. She was quite graceful, and she made everyone around her laugh. He couldn’t help but be happy when he looked at her, though he often caught himself and quickly looked away when he found himself looking at her for too long. One such evening, Pan was sitting on the edge of their camp watching the dancing when Gigi approached Pan, asking him to dance.

“You know I haven’t danced ever since Lil died, Gigi.”

“Well maybe its time to start again Pan. Come on.”

She took his hand and led him out into the clearing where other Princes and Princesses were dancing. She moved her red hair out of her eyes, took Pan’s embrace, and coaxed Pan into leading them into a slow and simple dance.

“Lil was an amazing woman, Pan. She was. But she’s gone, and there’s nothing you can ever do to bring her back. I lost my Prince Robert a few years ago, and decided then to join Art. It was the saddest moment of my life; I didn’t think I could face that faceless day, but I know he would have wanted me to make something of my life, to keep moving towards my Happily Ever After.” Her eyes misted over for a second, and Pan opened his mouth to say something but Gigi continued. “I know it, Pan. It took so long to convince my Robert that Happily Ever After exists, but even he understood in the end. Pan, go dance with her. Your life is really one big adventure; don’t think you know how your Happily Ever After ends, because you don’t. Go dance with her.”

As the music faded away Gigi squeezed Pan’s hands for encouragement and led him over to where Perfora was sitting, ever so daintily. Pan looked at Perfora, dressed ever so perfectly in pink, and barely got the words out.

“Yes, I would love to dance, Pen! I had been hoping that you’d ask me soon. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Its Pan.”

The most beautiful of smiles matched the clearest of laughs. “Of course I know your name is Pan! You take yourself oh so seriously don’t you?” She gave him a playful punch on the arm. It seemed like something Lil would have done. “I’ve never forgotten our first dance you know, back at Triton. It’s always been you Pan, I’ve always known it. You’re the only one who was living his very own Happily Ever After – you didn’t even have to go to school to find out what it was. And it wasn’t me, back then in the Tower. And that showed me so much about what I wanted… there’s so much more than singing and dancing and such! So thank you Pan, thank you ever so much. “

And as they began to dance, it seemed that time stood still. It was not at all like his dance with Lil, and yet so perfect still. She really was ever so graceful, and her spins and flourishes looked amazing. And even though she might not have followed his lead exactly, or done what he expected her to do, she moved with such joy and lightness that Pan couldn’t help but to smile. So what if every so often she’d step on a toe or two. So what if she didn’t take the dances so seriously. So what if she was someone Pan would never have thought he’d end up with in a million years… that was the point of life, the point of Happily Ever After, wasn’t it? They danced every single dance together that night, but soon it was all over. As they parted, Pan smiled for the first time in a long time. Perfora looked up at him with her clear blue eyes, gave him the biggest hug, and turned to join the other Princesses for the evening. Pan stood looking after her, her golden curls bouncing in the moonlight. She certainly did smell good. And she really was quite stunning. And who was he to assume he knew what his Happily Ever After would be? He had been fighting against a set vision of Happily Ever After for so long, he couldn’t even imagine that that might just happen to be what he was meant to live for. As he made his way back to the Princes camp, he found himself humming. He hadn’t sung for such a long time…

My heart's been waiting

For the Love of my Life,

A princess is out there

Who'll be my wife...

And when will I find her I ask of you?

My one true Happily Ever After...

***************************

Art was a skilled General, the best that this or any world has ever seen. His ability to lead and inspire was unrivaled, and his tactics were impeccable. His deep strike into the heart of the Heat’s stronghold in the West was an amazing success, as he somehow rallied Princes and Princesses, farmers and peasants, and Kings and Queens from so many different lands towards a common goal. And as the dust settled and the Heat was defeated, normal life was finally able to continue for one and all. The Magic that protected the land and kept its old ways was strong again.

And what of Pan? He went on to start his own Tower for Pre-Princes and Pre-Princesses, where he taught all sorts of things to anyone of any background – not just royalty. Yes, there was Singing and Dancing, and yes, there was Swordsmanship and How to Defeat Horrible Monster classes, but anyone could take any class – potential Princes and Princesses alike. And Pan’s Tower had all the best teachers one could ask for. Art often came to teach on leadership and the history of war; but only on days when Lance wasn’t teaching the sword. Gigi would often come to teach young Pre-Princesses and Pre-Princes how to sing and sew, and about the magic of other worlds so much like our own. Isa and her enormous Prince would teach the finer sides of dancing, and Ella would teach how to enchant common vegetables into powerful tools, while her charming Prince taught how to heal mortal wounds. Rora taught about the strange and magical world of Sleep, and how to keep from slipping into it for too long. It wasn’t long before Pan’s Tower was regarded as the premier place of learning, and the men and women who graduated from his teachings kept the land safe from Evil for generations to come.

And what of Perfora and Pan? Sometimes we think we know best about our Happily Ever After, and whether we should or shouldn’t have it. And most of the time we’re dreadfully wrong. Who we are is What we are combined with When we are, and no one learned that fact better than Pan. And yes, it makes me so happy to say that Pan and Perfora lived Happily, Happily Ever After. No, their lives weren’t perfect and prescribed, and yes, they had their fair share of trials and troubles, but anyone who knew them would say their lives were anything but ordinary… and that is the greatest compliment either of them ever wanted. When finally they left on the final journey for the Lands Across the Seas, hundreds of people joined to see them off, and thousands more celebrated wherever they were to gave thanks to how much their lives had been changed by everything they’d done. And as the winds filled the sails on their ship for their final journey, it too seemed to give thanks to the amazing couple who had changed so much about their world…

...And so the wind doth blow across the land,

Taking with it the grains of Time's sand.

Another tale closes its pages

Until opened again by history's sages

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