Unnatural Instinct: Wish
4

‘Wow.’

Almost immediately, the silvery light of the moon illuminates a route that zigzags through the glinting water.

Tucking the piece of paper into your pocket, you warily take a step forward—the ground holds! Each step makes you more confident and you quicken your pace. Your heart races with nervous excitement as the castle looms overhead.

All around you is sucking mud and slimy water. There’s a distinct plop as a creature jumps into it. There are frogs croaking from all directions. Or are they toads? It’s hard to see.

Somehow, your sandals are barely wet and the long grass and rocks that would otherwise trip you up keep out of your way.

Before you know it, you’ve crossed the marshes and are standing before the huge front doors of his castle. Just like the book, the castle is built of obsidian, a smooth black volcanic rock that shines against the light of the moon. It’s cold and slippery beneath your fingertips as you reach out to touch the nearest wall.

It’s more beautiful than you imagined.

Now, your excitement is replaced with nerves. What would the Dark Prince, a being powerful enough to build this incredible castle, want with the likes of you?

I wish you could keep me. I wish it very much.

You suddenly feel so childish. So desperate. How embarrassing! You look behind you, back across the marshes. Your route is still illuminated. If you want, you could go back and forget about it.

And then what? you ask yourself. Go back to your shitty life?

You turn with a yelp at a bang! You step back. It’s the doors—they’re slowly opening. Behind them is a long, dark hall. The ceiling is high, held up by tall black pillars. Chandelier after chandelier, perched on the end of long chains and all dripping with glittering crystal, follow the length of the hall. Their brilliant light makes the walls glimmer.

It all looks so grave and yet so beautiful. You look down at your muddy shoes. You try to wipe your muddy hands on your pants but your clothes are muddy too. Should you remove your shoes? But your feet are just as muddy.

Your throat feels scratchy as you take a tentative step inside. You whip around your head, clutching at your heart. There are figures watching you. They’re standing on either side of you. Your heart slows as you realise what you’re looking at. You wave your hand. They wave their hands. Mirrors. The walls are made of mirrors!

You frown as you stare at yourself. You couldn’t be more ugly right now. Your skin is all blotchy with fear, your eyes are wide, your hair’s in a tangle. You are wearing a set of your old clothes, tattered and worn and caked with mud. How can you meet the Dark Prince like this?

Closing your eyes, you try to imagine yourself clean and beautiful—this is your dream—but like your first attempt at altering your surroundings, it doesn’t work.

You turn with a start when the doors slam shut. You stare at them for a moment. Are they locked? Is this some kind of trap? The Dark Prince can be unpredictable sometimes, even cruel. Unwilling to replace out, you continue down the hall. Your reflections follow, their faces pale and nervous.

The hall seems endless. You walk and you walk, your wet sandals slapping loudly against the floor. How big is this castle? You stop for a moment, looking up at the chandelier above you. The crystal beads are moving. Then you feel it—a faint vibration beneath your feet.

Then you hear it—music. You strain your ears but it’s too faint to hear anything discernible. Going over to the nearest mirror, you lightly press your ear against it and close your eyes. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard before. It doesn’t seem to have a melody or beat, as though all the notes are mashed together discordantly. And yet it’s not unpleasant.

You open your eyes, then scramble back with a gasp. People! Where did they come from? You spin around but the hall is empty. You turn back to the mirrors, eyes wide. Impossible! In the mirrors there are people everywhere. You look over your shoulder again—but the hall remains empty.

According to the mirrors, they’re dancing behind you, dozens of them. All dressed in heavy, old-fashioned cloaks and dresses and suits. All wearing masks. Slightly terrifying masks. Masks of goblins or monsters. You step closer to the mirror as you try to see, your nose almost pressed to the glass.

The hall itself is different too—white. Tall white pillars. A white ceiling. White chandeliers with the same glittering crystal. It significantly brightens up the lonely hall you’re in. The music has grown loud now.

It’s a masked ball, if you’re not mistaken. There’s a chapter in the book about a masked ball. It’s where Louise dances with the Dark Prince for the first time. Heart racing, you walk along the hall, watching the party, searching. Searching for him.

It’s all so spooky with the offbeat music and strange clothing and menacing masks. And the way they move … nothing is quite right. Not to mention the fact that you’re viewing it all as a reflection!

You walk to the mirrors on the other side of the hall. There are more people dancing. You search and you search but you can’t see him. The music is getting louder until it seems to boom in your ears. Now you can hear voices. Laughter.

And then you see him, a mere glimpse between the dancers. You think it’s him. No. You know it’s him. Despite the creepy mask, you’d know him anywhere. The way he moves—so masculine and confident. His white-blond hair fans his broad shoulders. His long legs stride powerfully through the crowd. He’s wearing an old-fashioned jacket with a high stiff collar. And as for his pants—they’re extremely tight.

You’re so mesmerised by his sudden appearance that it takes you several moments before you realise that he’s dancing with someone. Your heart drops. She’s wearing a pretty pink dress that shimmers against the light. She’s wearing a half-mask, one which covers the top half of her face. A white one. The pair to his black mask. Her hair—it’s the same colour as yours, you notice, only brushed and washed and beatified.

He spins her around and you glimpse her square-on. Your heart jumps into your throat.

‘That’s me!’