Now, the sky was a brilliant blue. No clouds. It was warm, but not so hot that Maria would start sweating. There was a light breeze in the air that brought the sweet, rich smell of fall—leaves, grass, and spices that reminded Maria of pumpkins and pecans and Halloween.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind Maria.
She spun around, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Quickly, she realized she wouldn’t need it. The woman standing in front of her was no threat. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did—the woman standing in front of her was Zimmy Ba, Ignatius Mangood’s daughter, the King’s wife.
“Mom?”
“That’s right, Maria.”
Maria couldn’t control herself. She rushed forward, and the two women embraced. She was so warm, so real, so alive.
But how? How can this be?
Maria burst into tears of joy as the women separated.
“Oh, my, you’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” Zimmy said. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Mom,” Maria said, “how are you here? How am I here?”
“Maria, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are here, the both of us, for the first time in nearly twenty Earth years. Together.”
She was right.
Zimmy swept her hand over the village. “See this, Maria? This wonderful village where we were going to live and grow and love one another?”
Maria took it all in until Zimmy snapped her fingers, and the beauty was gone in the blink of an eye. Arachnids marched down the fences. Fire raged across the land. Buildings crumbled. Maria had drawn her sword, but Zimmy put a hand on hers and said, “No, Maria, you do not need that.”
Maria had no choice but to listen to her mother. It was the only time she had ever been given the opportunity to listen to her mother, and she was going to take it. As quickly as the village had changed into a burning graveyard of destruction, it changed back to its original peaceful state.
“Maria, see that? See how it changes? That is because of you. Because you are a shining beacon of light in a time of darkness. Because you are so pure and good and wonderful.”
Tears welled in Maria’s eyes. “Mom,” she moaned.
“Do not cry, my dear daughter. There is hope, yet. Hope because of you. I must go now, Maria. I must go on to the afterlife. But I will be waiting for you; though I won’t see you for a long, long time, know I will always be watching over you.”
Maria whimpered. “But I can’t— I don’t…Mom, don’t go.”
Zimmy turned, her colorful skirts swirling around her. “I must, Maria…unless—” She turned back around, her happy expression morphing into one of grim satisfaction.
“Unless what?” Maria asked. “Unless what?”
“Oh, no, Maria, I can’t ask you that. That wouldn’t be fair of me.”
Maria’s eyes lit up. “Anything, Mom. Anything, please. Please, tell me.”
“Take out your sword, Maria. Take out your grandfather’s sword.”
Maria listened. The steel glimmered in the sunlight, the rays dancing along its edge.
“Good, Maria, good. Now hand it over to me.”
Maria hesitated.
“What is it, daughter? Do you not trust your mother?”
Something had changed in Zimmy’s eyes. The deep color drained away until all that was left were tar-black pupils.
“I—” Maria began.
Don’t listen to her, Maria. Don’t. It’s a trick. Remember the Trials of Antenele; this is a test. Only a test. Her grandfather’s voice pleaded from somewhere so deep inside her head, that she could barely hear and understand it.
Zimmy held out her hand. “Please, Maria. It will only hurt a moment; then, my dear daughter, you can join me for all of eternity. Mother and daughter, together at last. I promise I will go straight for the heart. The pain will bleed into pleasure as death takes you and the void claims us.”
Maria drew her hand away from the thing posing as Zimmy Ba, and those black eyes turned red and heated; the voice coming from within growing distorted.
This was not her mother.
“Maria Apple, you will listen to me! Give me that sword and die honorably!”
The tears poured down Maria’s face. She took a step back and raised the sword. “Never!” she shouted back, and swiped the blade downward in a long slash, connecting with the thing’s shoulder.
There was no blood, no severed limbs, no screams of pain.
All that entered Maria’s ears was the sound of a great pane of glass, shattering beneath her blade. Zimmy Ba’s image crumbled, along with the background of Dominion, the blue sky, the swaying trees.
Maria fell to her knees, crying. The sword hit the ground in front of her, which was not ground at all, but a pile of shards of splintered world glass.
Maria bowed her head.
Will, she thought. The final test. Sheer will, and I have passed. But I will kill the man of the mountain for using my mind and my dead mother against me. Mark my words, I will kill him.
She looked up, and when she did, the skeleton man with the staff stood in front of her, the throne looming behind him. He rested the staff against his body and clapped slowly.
“Congratulations, Maria Apple. You have made it through the Trials of Antenele; you have done what no one else has done before. You have done the impossible.”
“Fuck you,” Maria said. “And give me back my dog.”
The man of the mountain didn’t look the slightest bit offended. In fact, he smiled, and Maria thought she saw a sick kind of pride in his eyes.
“Fine, Maria. I shall give you your dog back.”
“Unharmed.”
He nodded. “Yes, unharmed.”
“And you will let us pass toward the Land of Terran on the other side of the mountain. You will leave my grandfather, Ignatius Apple, and his traveling companion, Frieda, the dark witch, alone. They will come out on the other side unharmed.”
“Details, details,” the man said, twirling the fingers of one hand.
