Shew wanted to scream but she had no mouth. She felt someone moving her body, and she predicted they were taking her corpse to the bathhouse for the Queen to feast on her heart and swim in her blood.

But then she felt the emptiness around her as if everyone had simply left the chamber, probably preparing the bathhouse and then coming back to pick her up. They had no reason to worry about the princess’ corpse. It wasn’t going anywhere.

Although her paralyzed eyes were fixed on the ceiling, she saw someone in front of her, a woman in red with a scythe in her hand.

Oh, Great, hello Mrs. Death.

“You know who I am?” Death spoke. She had a sweet voice actually, and it helped a lot that she was a woman. Maybe she’d understand Shew better.

“The cookie monster?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm. You don’t meet with Death every day. Shew didn’t think leaving an impression was a bad idea. The woman in red didn’t respond.

So I offended Death. What is she going to do. Kill me?

“You know how many other souls I have to collect today?” she said bluntly, not appreciating Shew’s cheesy response.

“Busy day, huh?” Shew’s mind responded. “Can’t you just mass murder them all?” she said.

Death’s face looked liked it changed a little. She was trying not to smile.

“I mean how about tsunamis,” Shew couldn’t stop talking. “Earthquakes and volcanoes, they’re your doing, right? I always liked plagues. You just send the rats out into the world and go have a cigarette while the disease spreads. By the end of the day, everyone’s dead. Neat.”

“You talk too much,” Death said, banging her scythe against the floor.

“Are you going to cut my mind’s tongue?” Shew said, wondering why death felt like a hallucinogenic drug.

“Stop it, princess,” Death said. “I’m not necessarily going to take your life today.”

“I knew it,” Shew said. “You can’t kill me. I’m the Chosen One. It’s predictable that I won’t die. I’ve watched a lot of movies on teenager’s laptops, trapped in the Schloss.”

“You’re being silly, which actually means you’re trying to cover the fact that you’re sorry because you haven’t been strong enough,” Death said. “And if you think Death is the worst that could happen to you, then you’re greatly mistaken.”

“There’s something more painful than death?” Shew wondered. “Stupidity?”

Why does death feel like I’m high, smoking a hookah above the clouds?

“You know what’s worse than Death? Living a life of suffering and wishing for it,” Death said in a raspy voice with the kind of intensity Shew had initially expected Death to utter.

“So will you spare me? I spared a boy once,” Shew said.

“You spared him because you loved him,” Death said. “I don’t love you.”

“I am sure you don’t love anyone,” Shew said.

“I spared your mother the day you were born,” Death said.

Hearing this, Shew didn’t feel like joking anymore, “You did?”

“Do I look like I am joking?”

Hearing that from Death, Shew couldn’t argue, “of course, you aren’t. But I have the feeling you want to compromise.”

“Your mother was going to die giving birth to you,” Death explained. “I gave her a second life to take care of you.”

“It doesn’t look like she appreciated you saving her, I must say,” Shew commented.

“If I give you a second life, will you appreciate it?” Death said. “Will you stop your reluctance?”

“I could lie to you and you anything you want to hear right now,” Shew said. “You know that, right?”

“If you lie, you’re lying to yourself,” Death said, and turned around, walking away.

“Wait!” Shew said. “Aren’t you going to save me?”

“Of course, I won’t,” Death said, not looking back.

“But you promised!”

“I promised nothing,” Death said. “You were wondering why you had no one like Charmwill Glimmer in you life, someone who’d teach you how to be a Chosen One. Unfortunately, this isn’t how things happen in the Kingdom of Sorrow.”

“Then how am I going to learn?” Shew yelled. Ironically, her pain increased with every step Death took away from her.

“You should have learned a lot already. Everything you see, everyone you meet is for a reason,” Death’s voice was fading to grey. “Don’t worry. You won’t die, not this time. You’ll be saved, but not by me, but someone who loves you.”

Death’s words didn’t ease Shew’s feeling of betrayal. Mrs. Death came here, jumbled her thoughts for a while, and left her be. Shew didn’t understand the purpose behind her conversation with Death. Who loved Shew enough to save her? Loki was as good as dead to her, and she couldn’t think of anyone else but her father. She knew nothing about his whereabouts, and doubted he would show up all of a sudden. Shew assumed this was actually the end. Death had only been laughing at her.

Then something touched Shew’s lips.

32

A Secret Revealed

“Did you know that fairy tale folks call us Minikins?” Axel said, reading from Loki’s phone again. He’d been researching for the last hour, reading from the diary and surfing the internet. “I heard Loki say it, but wasn’t sure he meant us. It’s a little insulting if you ask me.”

Fable wasn’t responding. She was still circling the purple light, and Axel didn’t know what she was really thinking.

“And listen to this,” Axel thought a lot of interesting information would cheer her up, “in J.G.’s diary he mentions a special cake called Sanguinaccio.”

“What about it, Axel?” Fable only replied to keep him talking.

“It’s a real Italian cake. I mean real as in you can go to Italy and order it some place,” Axel said. “That’s weird.”

“What’s so weird about an Italian cake?”

“It’s topped with kidney or pig’s fresh blood and is served as a dessert,” Axel said. “That’s a real cake Italians eat, although it’s mentioned that most restaurants won’t serve it and claim it’s a myth. They call it Bloodylicious.”

“And we thought Shew was an outcast, being a blood sucker,” Fable said, still circling the light with weary eyes. “Why is it mentioned in J.G.’s diary?”

“I have no idea,” Axel closed the book. “This man’s quest for the Lost Seven led him to some weird stuff. And listen to this. He thinks the Phoenix, which we assumed is Cinderella, was mentioned in other fairy tales, too.”

“Do we know of these fairy tales?” Fable said absently.

“One is called The Little Match Girl, a fairy tale by Hans Christian Anderson,” Axel flipped through the pages.

“I know that one,” Fable said, her hand on her stomach. She looked as if she was in pain. “I love it actually. It’s about a poor girl who tries to sell matches, and no one buys them from her, so she burns them up on by one in hopes to get warm in the freezing cold.”

“Do you know that she dies in the end?” Axel said, reading from the diary. “What kind of fairy tale is this?”

“One that Charmwill Glimmer would tell,” Fable said. “How is it connected to Cinderella?’

“I have no idea,” Axel said. “The girl died for God’s sake. She can’t be Cinderella. And here is another one. He also thinks Cinderella is The Girl Without Hands, another creepy fairy tale.”

“I never heard that one,” Fable said. “I assume it really has a girl with no hands, right?”

“It does,” Axel said. “And then at the end of he notes, he thinks Cinderella, which is also Ember, Cerené, The Little Match Girl, The Girl Without Hands, and the Phoenix was born in Murano Island.”

“Where is that?”

“A Venice-like island, which is actually near Venice where glassblowers had been imprisoned and banned centuries ago,” Axel said.

“That’s interesting,” Fable considered. “Cinderella, being famous for her glass slipper, to come from an island of glassblowers.”

“What’s more interesting is that the glassblowers once lived in Venice, and then were banned because of the amounts of fire and cinders they produced and threatening the destruction of Venice,” Axel said. “What really drives me crazy is how Cinderella is all those people J.G. mentioned. It just doesn’t make sense,” Axel closed the book, noticing his sister still wasn’t well. “What’s going on Fable?” Axel wondered. “Have you sensed anything else about the Dreamworld?”