Mother

  ( A Weak, Pathetic, Ugly Thing )

  You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.

  The single brazier beyond the iron bars lit only one corner of Sunshine's cell, and so that was where she huddled, with knees pulled tight to her chest. Every few seconds a drip fell from the darkness above to join with a puddle at her side. She'd guessed the flame's rising heat was slowly eating away at snow settled atop the prison tower's roof.

  Outside of the circle of light, all was blanket black. It was as if she and the few rows of visible rails were stranded within an endless abyss. She watched her surroundings with wide eyes, and twitchy focus. No matter how quickly or deeply she panted, her heart and lungs continued to ache, as if her rib cage was constricting with every dizzying breath.

  The plague of rebellious thoughts was no longer contained within her head. Now they lurked as figures within the shadows. One was headless. One was shattered. Another twisted to a deathly degree. Worst of all was the disemboweled thing. Its gnawed, gaping hollow and manacled limbs made her stomach churn.

  Regardless of their torment, they all chanted the same thing, again and again and again.

  You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.

  Even when Sunshine closed her eyes, the broken shapes bled right through. When she covered her ears, the voices spoke from her palms. She struck her temples with clenched fists until pain throbbed through her bones, yet still the words repeated.

  She dared to reach into the shade. Her hand found the cold food upon an abandoned plate, which she flung at the haunts. Just as with every other attempt thus far, the mush vanished without disturbing the spectres in the slightest. She'd been told to eat the food, but she refused. Not as a form of protest or self-punishment. No. Sunshine knew she couldn't endure the maddening choir much longer. Eating would only ensure her body survived after her mind had cracked. If she were to remain within the lofty prison, she'd rather wither away than become a screeching maniac.

  Splishsplash had checked on her several times, and brought a fresh plate with each visit. The placid pools of her eyes had been even more lifeless in the limited light. She'd resembled a doll playing at being a person. An unfeeling thing that pretended to care.

  It had frustrated Sunshine at first. She'd never felt at ease in the presence of others, least of all Splishsplash. Only when alone, free from complication and judgement could she be herself. Now, however, things were different. Now she was desperate. It had all gotten too much for her since the merprincess' last appearance. Sunshine couldn't be sure how many hours it had been, but the next time Splishsplash appeared, she'd beg her to stay.

  Her quivering vision snapped to the brazier. Was it her imagination, or had one of the deceased just tried to rattle it? Was crumbling obsidian stretching from the void to further its reach, or were her eyes deceiving her?

  "You stay away from that," she hissed.

  You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.

  The fire's light dimmed. Its projected safety started to shrink like a receding tide, forcing Sunshine closer to the iron bars. Somehow, the eviscerated entity was outside no longer. Now it shared her cage, and started to hobble closer and closer. Its shackled wrist began to rise, and hand extended towards her face. She cowered, yet still the chewed digits reached.

  "I said stay away!" she kicked and screamed. "Leave me alone!"

  Clunk.

  The distant door opened. Subdued radiance crept in.

  When Sunshine looked around, the brazier was burning bright once more. The gruesome quartet was gone.

  She scrambled to stand upon trembling legs. Over the years, her ability to glean Mother's aura had lessened. On the day of Sunshine's emergence, it'd shone like a divine beacon. Now her eyes could only pick up the slightest trace, as if the majesty she'd once beheld was being hidden from her. If it weren't for the amber eyes and cindersome wings, she might've thought the dim glow nothing more than a carried candle.

  For the first time since Sunshine had found Winterwish's silhouette within the snowstorm, she felt a hint of hope. "Mother..." she choked.

  The faintly flickering gaze landed on the lowly puddle within Sunshine's cell. "...I told you not to call me that. Don't you remember?"

  "Of course..." The moment had been seared into Sunshine's memory like a brand. "I remember falling from that silken cradle into a strange world. I remember the smoken sky and the burning forest. The tears streaming down your face, and the relief in your eyes when you found me. I remember the acceptance I felt in that one, singular moment, and the shivers of my limbs as I crawled towards you... But most of all, I remember how you recoiled. How you looked away the moment my newborn lips uttered the word Mother. How could I possibly forget? You've yet to look upon me since..."

  Mother's eyes remained focused upon the drip-induced ripples. "Then why repeat your folly? I'll tell you now as I told you then. I am not your mother."

  Sunshine stepped forward, her worn socks soaking in the puddle, only for Mother's gaze to cast away, now resting outside of the cage. "You can deny it, but I know it in my heart. I am your daughter."

  "I said you're mistaken!" snapped Mother with a flaring plume. For a split second, even the distant walls were illuminated. A moment later, dozens of falling droplets rained in the returning dark. "You refused to talk to Splishsplash. Now you must talk to me. I need to know what happened in Tuberly. Everything you saw. Everything you heard."

  Sunshine sighed. "...Do you know what I would've given for an opportunity like this just a few days ago? Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you to simply acknowledge my existence?"

  Mother's lips parted, though their movements didn't match the words Sunshine heard.

  I hate you.

  Sunshine nodded slowly. She reached out and flicked at one of the iron bars. A hiss of steam rolled from her fingernail. "...This is where you kept Cutiehorn, isn't it? I wonder what her crime was. Did she too dare yearn for acceptance?"

  Mother's eyes narrowed. "Take a look around, Sunshine. You're in no position to ask questions."

  "And why is that? Why am I locked up here, whilst Splishsplash continues to serve at your side?"

  "You know why. Splishsplash doesn't disobey commands."

  "It wasn't your command I disobeyed. It was Cutiehorn's."

  "And I told you to heed her before I left."

  "I suppose you did..." mumbled Sunshine. "Of course you respect Cutiehorn when she's being useful. I guess that's where I've been going wrong all this time."

  Mother's face hardened like stone. "...Winterwish is dead."

  You killed her.

  Sunshine's reaction was one of pure impulse. A sudden possession of unfettered fury. "I know!" she screamed, her whole body-quaking. It'd only been a few days since her blood had last boiled, yet she'd almost forgotten the power and momentum that came with losing control. "I watched her die! I felt her fall through my fingers! Because you weren't here! Because you weren't watching!"

  Mother stumbled as if struck. "Enough!"

  "Oh, and did you just forget about Merrymint? She's dead too, Mother!"

  "I said enough!" Searing heat billowed once again, beckoning a lightless downpour.

  Sunshine lunged at the cage and clenched its ferric bars. Skin sizzled. "Look me in the eyes when you're talking to me! Look at me! Just once more in this miserable life, fucking look at me!"

  And she did.

  For the first time since Sunshine's emergence, Mother met her gaze. A single tear escaped one of the dwindling ember orbs and snaked down a gaunt cheek. It was almost as it had been a century ago when Sunshine had first crawled toward her, seeking warmth, only to receive rejection.

  You are weak. You are pathetic. I will never, ever love an ugly thing like you.

  Sunshine released her blistered grip and stepped back. Her vision blurred and cheeks moistened. "What is it about me that brings you such sorrow? A single word? Even if you're right, and I'm wrong, was that one mistake truly enough to earn this lifetime of neglect?"

  Mother's lips shuddered. "Sunshine, I... I'm..."

  "All I ever wanted was for you to look at me as you look upon her. So why? What is it I've done? If I am to rot up here, at least tell me why."

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  It seemed Mother could maintain eye contact no longer. Tired lids pressed to a close, concealing the dim light beneath. "...Nothing. You did nothing wrong. The fault is mine. The fault has always been mine..."

  What little strength remained vacated Sunshine's body in an instant. She'd been waiting for such an admission her entire life, yet now that she'd finally heard it, there came no relief. No satisfaction. No closure. Only a horrific emptiness that made her want to disappear. To shrink away into nothingness, never to think nor feel again.

  "Fuck you," Sunshine whispered. "How pointless..."

  Mother turned away. "I know that you must hate me, and I understand why, but... I still need you to talk. Please, please talk."

  "And what if I don't? What if I'd rather surrender to madness and despair than help you?"

  Mother raised her hands to her face, her voice emerging muffled. "Then... I'll have no choice but to ask Splishsplash to take the answers from you. She won't want to, and it won't be pleasant, but she will do it."

  Sunshine was as unshocked as she was uncaring. "You... You were right. Both then, and now. You're not my mother. You're not fit to be anyone's mother."

  "...You may think me evil, and you might be right, but I assure you, there exists far worse. If not for your own sake, then talk for your sisters. There must be at least one among them you care about. Help me protect them before it's too late."

  Sunshine remained silent in contemplation. She might not care for Splishsplash much, nor Bubblebun or Puddingpuff, but as of late, she had developed something of a budding fondness for Cutiehorn and Cherrychomp. They'd done little wrong. In fact, they'd even tried to help her in their own ways, just as Winterwish and Merrymint had.

  Titania started to walk away, until her body disappeared back into the black. All that remained was the distant flicker of her aura amidst the devouring dark. Soon even that light would vanish.

  "...A one-eyed giant of a man," said Sunshine.

  The click clack of heels stopped.

  "Sealed in plate, bound in chains and infested with parasites," she continued. "He had the Candy Cane too, though it was corrupted."

  "...And his speech?" asked Titania, voice trembling like a leaf barely clinging to its branch. "How did he talk?"

  "With guttural whispers, a common tongue and forgotten words."

  For a time there was only silence. If not for the faded remnant of radiance, Sunshine would've believed herself alone.

  When Titania finally spoke again, she did so quietly. Weakly. As if within that darkness, she'd become a frightened child. "I... I will send word to the other Queens. I will ask if Obonia will accept you into her court. If not, Useelia always welcomes reinforcements."

  "So you're finally throwing me away. I suppose I should've expected as much."

  For her century of service, Sunshine received the briefest of farewells.

  "...I'm sorry," whimpered the voice.

  With Winterwish no more, the apology pained Sunshine, just as they always used to.

  Words... Words can't fix anything.

  The clacking sounded once more, but hurriedly so. Titania ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Shadows stirred anew.

  Hands.

  Sunshine looked to her hands. Skin had peeled and blistered. Blood oozed. Yet there was no sign of cooked fats nor burned bones. They'd held up remarkably well. She looked to the bars and tried to remember what it was she'd screamed so she could repeat the words. While she couldn't be certain of the exact phrasing, she was sure of one thing. She'd held on for longer than two seconds. Longer than three. Much longer. Was such resilience a fluke?

  Fingers flexed. Palms pressed to iron. Grip engaged and muscles strained. The bar started to groan. Then bend. Then it broke away entirely.

  Sunshine was so shocked at what she'd achieved, that it took her a second to drop the metal. Its ferric composition had taken a toll on her flesh, but nothing she couldn't handle. She'd become more than intimate with pain.

  "Freedom is within my grasp... yet I've nowhere to go."

  Of all the people and places in the entire world, it was an object that came to mind. One that might be capable of ending her. The length of chain hidden away in her room could make for a viable noose. She wasn't sure if the fact that her newfound tolerance to iron meant her departure would take far longer should amuse or sicken her.

  No one will check on you. No one will find you. You'll hang there forever. Alone.

  Peering back to the bars, she figured two more would allow her to squeeze through. Three if she actually cared not to burn the rest of her body, but such precautions seemed meaningless now.

  Her eyes shifted to the unceremonious splatters of cold food as she questioned the need for a last meal.

  Despite not having gone anywhere yet, Sunshine felt strangely nostalgic for the familiar halls of the palace. A strange fizz filled her stomach knowing she'd soon never look upon them again. It was almost like saying goodbye to someone. A person she'd never really liked, yet one who'd prove her only companion before the end.

  Day and night had held no sway within her prison. She hadn't even attempted to keep track of time, but it must be late. Twinkles of brightness prickled the stained glass windows, and all was quiet.

  Upon reaching the Dormitory, she gazed down its hall, looking from one emblem to another. Her eyes lingered upon Winterwish's distant icon. She supposed one detour wouldn't hurt.

  Soft steps carried her down the passage. She took a moment before Merrymint's door to reach out and trace the jagged leaf symbol with her fingertips. The emerald fairy hadn't been all that bad. Perhaps if Sunshine had given her a proper chance, she'd have made a friend long before Winterwish had come along.

  "Merrymint... I'm s-" she gritted her teeth before the word could slip free.

  Forget it. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. It'll all be over soon.

  Sunshine was surprised, yet grateful that Winterwish's door had been left unlocked. The room was practically empty. Vast and barren, not unlike her own. Only, the windows before the swirling snow bore not a single scratch.

  She approached the unmade bed and started to tidy the sheets. She didn't really know why. It was just something she wanted to do. When she reached the pillow, she picked it up, pressed it to her cheek, and inhaled. What little remained of her friend's cool, soothing scent graced her airways.

  "Do you mind if I borrow something?" she whispered. "Anything will do. Just a small trinket to lay beneath my feet, just to keep me company, for a short while."

  . . .

  Sunshine opened the wardrobe. Just like the rest of the room, there wasn't much to it. Just the old, regular coat Winterwish had worn before receiving Dollymop's tailored work. Beneath sat matching boots, ink-stained gloves, and a glint of gold. For a moment, Sunshine almost let herself believe it was a shard of her broken mace, Truth, yet it proved to be something far more intriguing. A gilded book.

  She picked it up and glanced inside. It seemed Winterwish had hidden an impressive talent. Beautiful lines formed flawless shapes and delicate shading. Sunshine could never manage such patience and precision.

  Princess Razzledazzle. Princess Snugglehug. Princess Choccyrock. Each sketch was just as impressive as the last. Sunshine let a sad smile form on her lips, though it would vanish upon seeing the next page.

  "Princess Bravesail..."

  Her Mentor, or rather, a coward that'd fled after teaching Sunshine less than the basics. If the art wasn't of Winterwish's hand, she'd have spat on it.

  When she turned the page, her gaze widened with disturbing recognition. "Princess... Pearlypop?"

  There was barely a hint of resemblance between the overly-joyous girl on the page and the frostburned thing she'd witnessed in the forest, yet somehow she knew they were one and the same. The longer she met with the illustration's milky eyes, the more she felt like she was being watched.

  Creak.

  Sunshine spun around, only to see the shadowy quartet. They remained still and distant, almost as if patiently waiting for her to join them.

  "Soon."

  She steadied her fingers and flicked through the remaining drawings until she came to the last. A rough sketch, far from finished. Three happy faces that buried guilt in her gut. Winterwish, Merrymint and Cherrychomp, together. If she weren't so sure she'd fuck it, she would have tried to complete it on her dead friend's behalf.

  Cold air rushed through the room. A flurry of flakes flowed from an open window. A window Sunshine was certain that'd been shut when she entered, or rather, as certain as she could be of anything anymore. Just as she had done when entering the magical maelstrom, Sunshine shielded herself with a wing until she was close enough to shut the window.

  When she turned back, she saw an additional page flutter to the floor. Had it dropped from the journal without her realising, or blown free from elsewhere? Regardless, Sunshine figured it should be added to the rest, and so plucked it from the floor.

  It was cruder than the others. Basic. Wonky. Perhaps drawn in haste. It featured no fairies, but a door. Hulking and brutal.

  "Seek the door below the palace, and free myself of Little Flutter's lies..." The suggestion of an ogreish maniac. Sunshine looked to the ghost of glassy shards. "Winterwish... were you looking for the truth he spoke of?" She added the page to the journal, tucked it under one arm and headed out.

  When she stepped into the dormitory hall, she found it host to a violet glow. Upon the rug rested a single vial of faefire and a trail of breadcrumbs.

  "...Are you serious?" Sunshine was more than ready to leave. To have it all come to an end. And yet, presented with such a scene, what could she do but follow?

  The crumbs led her through the Main Hall and down a shady passage. The final fragment lay before a door she'd never seen open before. Not in almost a hundred years.

  Down and down the stairs spiralled. The deeper Sunshine descended, the cooler the air became. It was a cold she appreciated. A cold she embraced.

  The stairs ended. An iron door loomed. Its lock the shape of a butterfly.

  Sunshine looked to the vial in her hands and rolled it in her fingers. Then she shifted the journal to her chest, and squeezed. "Ok. I'll do this one last thing, for you." She took the precious book up a few steps and placed it behind the staircase pillar so it would remain safe, then returned to the door.

  Whatever secrets lay beyond would soon be revealed.