Soul Master

15. Amèlie

Sleep was a thing of beauty. In the realm of dreams, things existed that were never possible in reality. Things like talking flowers, squirrels with bat-like wings and dragon tails, Candyfloss scented trees. And always that Disneyland palace in the distance, that when you entered became Dracula's keep.

I never went near that place after I fought Aphador. I stayed on the other side of the little bridge over a gently flowing stream. In my dream I sat alone, under a starlit sky. I was humming a tune that I can't remember ever hearing. My eyes looked among the stars, seeking answers to questions that my dream didn't reveal. In my dream I wore a red dress, a red robe and black boots, because even in the realm of dreams it was stupid to wear heels in the woods.

I watched over myself like some sort of bystander to my life. Beside my dreamself sat a basket of muffins, untouched and looking tasty with big chunks of chocolate in them. Apparently in my dreams I had learned some self restraint when it came to sweet food.

I stood then, and looking over to the palace across the bridge in the distance, a sound travelled to my ears.

A song.

I followed it, feeling my conscious state becoming one with my dreamself and picking up the basket I crossed the small bridge. The dream world flickered and I was inside the castle. Walls exactly as they had been the day I escaped. Dark, dingy, mossy. And damp, the air was stagnant.

I ascended the stairwell, my footsteps echoing on the cobbled black stone, knowing where I was headed, following that enchanting melody.

I pushed open a large wooden door and the room gave way to light, pastel colours and warmth, the smell of rose water refreshing my senses. It was like the castle sporadically alternated between Disney and Dracula.

'Come in, come in!' A voice. Aphador's voice.

I walked in hesitantly and lowered my hood, keeping my eyes on her. My blonde hair static and frizzy. I found the witch sitting at a dressing table, intent on painting her lips a soft shade of pink.

She wasn't how I had left her. I remembered her serpentine body, disjointed arms, venomous fangs. A wailing witch bent on killing me and keeping Penteluck bound to her so she could torture him. Now as she sat at her vanity table in a sheer white gown and pink silky night dress underneath, she looked beautiful, a mixture of both vampire and Barbie doll, girls in college dressed like this, they called it rockabilly, some alternative version to pin up that I thought only existed in fashion magazines. Her reflection in the mirror showed her snow white features, long back hair passed her bum, straight and neat, her eyes no longer serpentine but still as green as emeralds focused on the reflection of her lips, as she finished applying the subtle pink, she blew a kiss at the mirror then picked up eye make up.

'How are you alive?' I questioned her, glancing away. She had continued to hum that tune I had followed, leading me to her.

'Oh.' She smiled, sounding nothing like the guttural hag I had once fought, and for all the world like a young well raised woman. 'Don't mind that.' She brushed off my question and fluttered her eye on a wand, darkening her long lashes. 'What you really ought to be worried about is you.' She repeated the process on the other eye, blinking then leaning back taking in her final appearance. She smiled approvingly, watching her made me smile too.

'Me?' I asked. I could barely look away from her face in the reflection.

'Yes,' She chimed, 'don't you remember at all?' She watched me from the mirror, picking up a brush and running it down, down, down her hair.