Briar, the king of the Fae, dreamed of a dark shadow descending upon his kingdom, swallowing everything in its path and leaving nothing behind but emptiness. His dream-self tried to fight back, but it was fruitless, and all around him his people, stripped of power and life, fell as empty husks to black earth. Soon only he was left, and the blackness descended upon him, as well...

Suddenly, there arose a great, silver light before him, coming between him and that awful blackness, shielding him from harm. It glowed all around him, soft as moonlight, brilliant as sun-touched ice, and he felt a sense of kinship with the light. Together he and the light drove back the blackness, banishing it into the Shadow Realms, and once again he and his kingdom were safe.

He loathed leaving the safety of the Faerie Realms, hidden safely away from prying men by a thin veil of Forgetfulness, but if he was to save his kingdom, the risks were necessary. So he took himself off to the mortal lands Above, into the place where Time ruled all…except for him. He slipped through the decades and centuries of mortal lives as easily as a honed knife slips through flesh. He told no one of his mission--not even his most trusted advisors. His inner senses demanded secrecy.

After passing through an immeasurable amount of Time, Briar felt the pull of his magic toward a small village situated just outside an ancient forest. He knew not which century he now stood in, but the call was strong, so he knew his exhausting journey was near its completion. He traveled into that village, watching men and women at work, and children at play, and was both amused and annoyed at the tales foolish men told about the forest. The Enchanted Forest, as the locals called it, owned by the Goblin King, and filled with all manners of wicked creatures.

Briar spent several days in the village, passing close enough to the villagers that they could have touched him, had they but realized he was there. There was one small cottage, in particular, which rested alongside a small stream at the very edge of the forest, and it was to this cottage that he felt the most drawn. Here, he knew, was where he would find what he searched for.

There was a man and his wife, and they had a small girl, an enchanting five-year-old with hair like spun gold, and soft, brown eyes. She looked just like her mother, in truth, who was with child. The man was tall and strong, with raven-black hair and laughing blue eyes.

Briar knew this was where he needed to be, and yet none of this family was whom he needed. For a time he considered moving on, but whenever he started to leave a sense of urgency came upon him so strongly that he dared not go, lest he miss his chance to find what he was looking for. So he stayed, and very soon the woman was ready to give birth to her second child.

The baby came in the dead of night, under the full moon that rose in a sky bright with stars. Briar could not help feeling fascinated. The woman called a midwife hurried about as if the sky were falling and hovered over the golden woman like a hawk. He had once witnessed a deer giving birth, and was curious to know if it was the same with mortals, for Fae births were rare. It never even occurred to him that he might not be welcome—If he’d been seen, that is—as he was drawn to the window of a darkened room.

From outside the open window he could hear the woman’s pained cries, and the midwife’s encouragement. There was something strangely familiar about that midwife, whom the golden-haired woman had called Maggie Lue. A simple enough name, and indeed, she seemed no more than a simple villager, but her eyes held the seemingly ageless wisdom of one of his own kind.

He lifted the silver flute that hung at his waist to his lips and began to play the sweet, pure melody of enchantment. The notes floated into the air, nearly visible in the shimmering magic that followed them, delicate as a spider’s thread. He began to dance, weaving the threads into a soft, mist-like tapestry, woven through with moonbeams and starlight.

From the forest, a few pixies appeared, dancing on the breeze as they lifted the tapestry, singing softly with words only pixies understood. And when, from the room, the midwife lifted the tiny baby into the light for a better look, the pixies dropped the soft net over the infant. It wrapped itself around the babe with a softness that was nevertheless as tight and unbreakable as iron chains. Briar doubted that the woman, and certainly not the babe, had even realized what had happened, even as the child’s silky black hair slowly faded into a pale, lustrous silver; the signature of the Goblin King, and by this the confirmation of who she was and would one day be.

Briar stayed long enough to listen as the mother whispered the child’s name. Gabriella. It sang in his heart like the sweet notes of his flute. Then, as the lady drifted into sleep and the midwife began to clean up, he slipped away into his world, back through Time to the Faerie Realms, wondering if they would remember any of this night’s visit by the next morning. Somehow, he doubted they would forget…

* * * * *

Things had changed while he had been away. The Darkness had come, taking advantage of his absence, and now hung like a blight over his land. All about him, Fae lay lifeless against scorched rock. The magic that permeated the air appeared to be unsettled, a mix of light and dark—with the dark slowly growing stronger.

"What has happened?" Briar yelled. "Whatever you be, face me, evil one! I’ll not let your hatred destroy my kingdom any longer!"

There came a stirring from within the Darkness, and from it there drifted a shape, the form of a woman, though no mortal or Fae was she. "I am the enchantress Ambrosia," she said, and her voice hissed like vile steam. "I have come with a pact for you, mighty king."

"I make no bargains with those who seek to destroy me," he replied coldly. "Take yourself away at once, before I cast you out myself!"

But the enchantress merely laughed. "You fool yourself with brave words, little king. You cannot vanquish me! I hold the power of death. The death of your world! Look!" And she raised the dark shadow enough to reveal a globe of light that shone golden in the blackness of her mantle. "Here is your magic, the enchantment that holds your realm together. It is nearly full! My Darkness has slowly drained the Faerie Realms of life. Soon it will fade into nonexistence, and with it all of its inhabitants, including you. No longer will those pathetic mortals remember you as the Goblin King. Indeed, you will be remembered as nothing at all!"

Her laughter howled like the wind all about the Fae king, who stood trembling in his rage and helplessness to stop her. He knew that should he do anything foolish, she would douse that light she held, and it would be the end of everything. His dream, it seemed, was coming true, after all.

"What do you want of me?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Ambrosia quit her laughter and looked down at the Fae king with gleaming eyes. "I want you to wed me," she hissed, "for when we are joined your realm will become my realm, and your power will be my power, and together we can conquer the entire mortal world!"

"You’re insane!" Briar snapped. "You cannot conquer a world that does not believe you exist! And even the most powerful sorcery cannot force anyone to believe in something they don’t wish to!"

"There are some who believe, and fear, the Faerie Realms," Ambrosia replied calmly, though her eyes held a dangerous gleam of red in them. "Not all mortals need believe in them. A very few will be quite enough to serve our wants and needs. We need not even dirty our hands."

"Not all are children," she told him, and a malicious smile curled her lips. "I know of at least one village filled with superstitious mortals. They fear all things that are beyond their realm of understanding. Many have children of their own. There is one, I think, that you know of, for you were there when she gave birth to her second girl-child, were you not? Indeed, even though she does not yet exist, what is time to a Fae?" She laughed as Briar blanched. "A ‘savior’ for your kingdom? How sweet, but useless to have wasted that time in looking for a child that will shortly perish—indeed, whom I will kill myself—when I am through with you. You should have been here attempting to stop me! What a pity."

"Why do you wish to make a pact? You clearly have the power to destroy my world with or without me," Briar replied, attempting to draw the enchantress’ attention away from his chosen one…his only hope.

Ambrosia laughed. "Because you are pleasing to the eye," she replied, eyeing him in a way that sent chills down his spine. "You are quite beautiful, and I do appreciate beauty…when it is in service to me. Every queen needs a proud, beautiful king at her side, after all."

Ambrosia’s eyes went positively wild with rage at the Fae king’s insult. "That can be arranged!" she screamed, raising the globe in preparation to smash it down onto the charred earth and completely destroy the Faerie Realms once and for all. But Briar had expected this. Indeed, he had hoped for it, and when the globe came down, he was able to cushion it with a net of magic that he had gathered, little by little, out of the air. The globe, rather than shattering, merely bounced a little and rolled away from the enchantress’ clutches.

The magic, once freed of Ambrosia’s control, burst out of the globe like sunlight from behind thick clouds, streaming away as the Darkness slowly began to fade, driven back by the pure magic. The Fae that had not yet fallen cheered loudly, heartened by this small victory, even as Ambrosia screamed her rage.

"To me, my people!" Briar roared, and the Fae sent up a mighty cry and gathered their bodies and their magic around their beloved king, prepared to die for him. Ambrosia, realizing that her victory had suddenly taken a sour turn, gathered her dark magic about her and prepared to strike back.

"You have not defeated me!" she shrieked. "Not yet! A curse I put upon you, Briar, King of Fae! The Goblin King the mortals call you, and so a goblin king you shall become! A beast cursed to wander forever alone, with no companionship save a portrait hung in your hall to remind you forevermore of what you once were, and of what you will now always be. Your people will no longer exist! Forever now they will be mere shadows of their former selves, neither living nor dead--and only when the love of a mortal maid touches you will you ever be whole again!

The Fae released their magic at her in fury, sending it streaking toward her with the speed of thought. She let it come, laughing maniacally, and screamed when it embraced her in fiery clutches, devouring the blackness that was her soul in fierce light, and when it had gone, so, too, had Ambrosia.

But it was a bittersweet victory, for the damage was already done. Ambrosia’s curse was coming to pass. Briar felt the change come over him, shuddering through his body in waves of agony. He screamed, and his voice became a beast’s howl, long and wild and fierce. Through the haze of pain he saw his castle, and the city surrounding it, changing, falling to pieces. His beloved gardens grew into thickets of briars and thorns, tangling around the castle like a net. His home was about to be destroyed before his eyes, unless he did something to stop it. So, calling upon the last of his magic, he wove an enchantment around the city and castle, not able to undo the destruction, but at the very least to halt it. He also realized, with horror, that he no longer stood completely in the Faerie Realms.

The city he stood in was now in the mortal lands, surrounded by deep, shadowed woodland, as Ambrosia had no doubt intended it to be. It hovered between the Faerie Realms and the mortal realm, neither here nor there. It was invisible to mortal eyes, but only to those who didn’t know what to look for. If even one man, woman, or child that believed in his kind’s existence should happen to stumble across this ruin of a city, and realize what it really was, he would be discovered, and possibly in very real danger. Still, at least he was in the forest and he was able, with the aid of his sorely weakened magic, to cause the trees and thick undergrowth to grow up wildly around his city, camouflaging it so securely that it was barely recognizable. And with the binding of his broken city so, too, did he use the magic to bind his subjects to him, hoping that it might be enough to keep them from vanishing forever into the Shadow Realms.

This exhausted him, and he ached all over with the result of his transformation. Yet when he was finished he could see faint shadows that were out of place among other shadows hovering over him. He was gratified to know that he had been able to keep his people from disappearing completely, although he wasn’t sure he’d done them any favors. After all, what good were shadows to anyone?

He slowly rose to his feet and raised his hands to his face, wincing at the sight of sharp claws and twisted fingers, covered with golden fur. He searched for a pool of water, and found one down beyond his gardens, as smooth as glass, despite the little waterfall that poured into it. The pool contained remnants of magic, he sensed, but for now it would suffice as a mirror.

The sight of himself as he stared down into the pool was more than he could bear. Was the grotesque monster that glared back with burning eyes truly he? He threw back his head and gave a loud, pain-filled roar that echoed far and away into the forest. Ambrosia had, indeed, done a good job of the curse.

When he looked back again, there was a stallion drinking from the pool, much to his astonishment. A mortal creature, for there were no horses in the Faerie Realms. Its thirst no doubt had driven it here, despite the potential danger from Briar, and moreso from the enchanted pool. Horses did not care about magic-filled water so long as it quenched thirst, but this magic was doing its job, and slowly the poor beast was changing, becoming infused with the enchantment. Its coal-black coat seemed to take on a new light, and its mane began to glow as though moonbeams had somehow caught in it. The soft brown eyes now glowed with the light of stardust. It was a truly beautiful creature…until it raised its head from the pool. In its mouth there now gleamed razor-sharp fangs that no normal horse could have, and its eyes had taken on the hint of bloodlust as it stared at Briar.

"Easy now, my friend," Briar said carefully. "We are alike now, you and I. It would not do to make a meal of me, for I fear that you will now need companionship as much as I will. Let us be friends, instead, and together we may hunt our meals."

The stallion understood perfectly. He tossed his sparking mane and trotted over to Briar, not at all afraid. The Fae king reached out to stroke the velvety nose, and the horse leaned into his touch. Briar smiled, as much as his beastly muzzle would allow. "So Ambrosia was wrong when she said I’d have no companionship," he said to himself, clapping the horse on the back. "What say you?" he asked the stallion. "You need a proper name. Does Isolese suit your fancy? It was the name of a friend and a great warrior who was felled in battle many years ago. You do him honor to take it." The stallion tossed his head, and Briar took it as a sign of agreement.

But even as he smiled, melancholy settled over him like a shroud. He had a friend, but it wasn’t enough, he knew. His kind craved the companionship of other people, and despite his outer appearance, in his heart he was still Fae. Soon, he feared, he would fade away from loneliness. "If only I knew how the girl-child fared," he said to himself. "Was Ambrosia able to destroy her before she herself was destroyed? The child is my only hope. If I had some way of finding her!"

Isolese nudged him and looked toward the enchanted pool, pricking his ears. Briar followed his gaze, and saw to his astonishment that the pool was rippling. He looked into it, and suddenly the image was clear. Not his reflection, but the image of a golden woman holding a small, silver-haired baby. "It’s the child," he gasped. "This pool is indeed magic! And the baby still lives in her time, which means that there is yet hope for me. The curse may still be undone."

The image slowly faded, and Briar found himself staring once again at his own hideous reflection. The hope fled as swiftly as it had come, and despair eagerly took its place. "But what is the use? It will be centuries of mortal time before she is even born," he said sadly, "and even when I meet her again, Ambrosia made sure of my failure when she cursed me. What mortal maid could ever love a beast? And should the witch be right and the child fail me, I will die anyway. Still, better that than remain a monster forever." He bowed his head into his hands.

"It is hopeless," he whispered. "My quest was in vain, and I’ll not fool myself into believing otherwise. The child will most likely not be able to find me, and I will not seek her out and frighten her. My heart could not bear it. From here on, no mortal shall disturb me. Isolese, you will act as my sentinel and warn me of trespassers. We will be sure to keep all away from what’s left of my kingdom. I will live my lonely existence, and I will forget…"