Page 40 of Rumpelstilzchen

By now, the fire had taken on a life of its own, and he needed to do the same before the shadow realm reclaimed him forever. With whatever resources he had left, he needed to find Boy.

Rumple turned then and left the throne room, but he lacked the strength to fully materialise, and so in a half-human, half-shadowed state, he entered the blazing hallway. Thick and smoking tendrils of magick trailed behind him. Stiff legs that barely bent at the knee gave him a pronounced limp, but Rumple ignored his lumbered gait in favour of rumination.

Queen Schön had said that Boy had been the one to break her spell, but how had he learned Rumple’s true name? All the scrolls and grimoires he had read pointed to that being the only resolution, but never once had he come close to finding it mentioned. So where had Boy come across it?

Rumple forced open the large wooden doors that led to the Tower, and the updraft fed the inferno that ravaged this floor of the palace.

Reliant on his shadows for directions, he followed the tug that would lead him to his Heart. He would have used the magick-infused collar as a shortcut had he any faith that once he entered the shadow realm entirely it would let him leave again, but he didn’t want to take that risk. If he only had limited time left, he wanted to hold his Boy and feel his warmth, not watch him from the shadows.

The spiral staircase of the Tower had filled with a thick and billowing smoke. He heard the coughed wheezes and panicked footsteps from the other floors as servants and Royal Guard alike attempted to escape the burning building, but these treacherous and dark steps were not the route to choose if they wanted to avoid breathing in the superheated air or tumbling down the stone stairwell to their deaths.

Spared their plight, Rumple descended methodically until he stepped into the bright morning light that filled the Royal City. His demonic form, with wispy shadows where his skin should have been, slowly ambled towards those who had gathered to watch the smoke stream out of the stained-glass window above them.

Upon sight of him, their horrified screams pierced the air. Some fainted, some froze in fear, but most fled down the hill towards the market. Rumple paid no heed. He wasn’t there for them. He needed to get to his Heart.

When thoughts of how Boy had found the knowledge to break his thrall bore no fruit, Rumple turned his mind to why. Had he not understood the depths of Queen Schön’s cruelty? Had he not thought she would immediately kill him for it? But then, what if she had?

The thought brought Rumple to a halt halfway to the Fachhallenhaus they had spent time in the day before. Self-sacrifice was in his human’s nature. After all, wasn’t that what had led him to becoming a prisoner in the Royal District in the first place? Despite his father’s lie, Boy had willingly left with the tithe collector because he believed he was saving his family. Surely, though, Boy’s love for his siblings was different than whatever feelings he might harbour for the geist? Especially when Rumple knew they’d been built on top of a dark secret.

Rumple shook his head and resumed his slow pace downhill, following the guide of his shadows. When he reached the eastbound path, where the portcullis partially obscured the view of the gallows, his body flickered between realms. He knew it was morning, the golden rays of the sun having strained his shadowed form since he’d left the palace, but his vision showed only a large moon that turned everything around him to shades of grey.

He couldn’t look away from the gallows. He knew them to be empty, but in this strange and eerie light, he saw two bodies swaying on short ropes. One, dressed all in black with longer dark hair, he recognised as his preferred human form. A symbol, perhaps, of the little time he had left, but the body that hung next to his, with bare feet and a mop of honeyed hair on a head that hung at an awkward angle, could only belong to Boy.

Rumple knew it wasn’t real, but the fear that had lived inside of him since he first considered how vulnerable and mortal his Heart was grew out of control. Rumple’s cry, heartfelt and lamenting, blurred his vision. He tried to channel his emotions into the energy needed to make his legs carry him forward. He wanted, no—needed—to get closer. He had to get to his Heart, but it was like wading through a swamp.

The harder Rumple pushed, the further away Boy’s body seemed to become. He bent at the waist and dug his shadowed fingers into the gravel path. Determined, he crawled forward, not once taking his eyes from his destination—from his Heart. If it cost him every last shred of his humanity, Rumple would reach his Boy.

Onward, he dragged himself, over the small and sharp stones. They cut and sliced at his thin and weary skin, but he didn’t stop. As he crawled through a grey and blurry hellscape, he left a trail of black blood along the ground. He pulled himself along until his bloodied and battered hand gripped the wooden base of the gallows. He heaved himself up, but just as he was about to grasp hold of Boy’s ankle, the crisp autumn chill of the human realm flooded back in, and the mirage vanished. Rumple, in an almost entirely shadowed form, was left panting for breath on the deck of the empty gallows.

It was then that he knew, beyond any doubt, this torturous vision was confirmation that he couldn’t protect Boy from his mortality any more than he could claim him as his own. Trying to do so was like holding onto water.

Rumple rolled onto his back and stared up at the vivid blue sky. What use was having magick, what use was being free, if he couldn’t save the one thing he valued above all else?

Rumple laughed a dry and bitter laugh that mutated into a hacking cough. So this was how it would end? The greatest and oldest shadow geist in Falchovari would perish, not because of the black magick that had poisoned him, not because he hadn’t found his Heart, but because it had taken until now for him to find something—someone—worth living for.

In just three short days, Boy had crawled inside Rumple’s shadows and made them his own. He’d been afraid of Rumple at first, of what he was, but he hadn’t shied away. He’d shown a strength of heart that Rumple knew he had never possessed. Rumple closed his eyes. If he could see Boy again before he faded, even if for a moment, he would tell him the truth—explain the nature of his interest. Mostly, though, he wished to share with him the depth of those feelings. Boy was his Heart, and he no longer wanted to claim him for himself, but rather give him the world.

Rumple exhaled, and instead of fighting his fate, as he had been, he embraced it. He flowed out of the human realm and into the shadowed one, where the darkness welcomed him. There, in the shadows, he was without both beginning and end. Except for the ice-cold pit in the hollow of his chest.

Its sharp sting was the only reason Rumple couldn’t let go completely. It dragged him through the invisible currents towards his final destination, and as he drew closer, a small pinprick of golden light became visible. It emanated a warm glow that was at odds with the perpetual dark and reminded Rumple of the honeyed strands of Boy’s hair. Defiant, the ball of light grew stronger and larger, until its radiance temporarily blinded Rumple.

When his eyes adjusted, he could make out Boy’s lithe body. The light in his shadows—his lux in tenebris—was lying on his back in the same pitch-black cell in which Rumple had first discovered him.

twenty-four

Rumple

Boy’s lean legs, clothed in tattered and too-short breeches, were stretched out long up the damp stone wall and his bare feet were crossed at the ankles. His hair was splayed out over the filthy floor like a halo, and his skin had an almost ethereal glow that drew Rumple in. Boy was the most brilliant creature he had ever seen, and Rumple’s shadowed form swirled around him in the small, dank cell.

Despite his environment, he seemed at peace, and Boy let his hand drift from where it rested on his chest, to extend his arm out wide. His fingers reached softly for the shadows that hovered nearby.

“Why did you come back?” There was a genuine confusion in Boy’s tone, but he continued to stare up at the ceiling when he spoke, even though he most likely couldn’t see the moss-covered stones through the dark.

Rumple’s shadows wasted no time accepting the invitation to wrap themselves tightly around Boy’s cool palm, but the geist himself was rendered speechless. What did he mean, “why did he come back?”

Then Rumple remembered, the last time they were together Boy had asked him to stay, only for the Queen to then literally tear him away. His shadows thickened and pulsed with the echo of the pain that caused. He wanted to manifest into his human form and curl protectively around Boy, but he lacked the energy. Instead, he pushed more shadows forward, tracing the bluish veins along the soft skin on the inside of Boy’s forearm.

“Did it not work?” This time, he turned his head, as if he could make Rumple out perfectly despite the dark and knew exactly where his eyes were.