Chapter 1

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"Legend has it, in the mystic land of Prydain. There was once a king so cruel, and so evil, that even the gods feared him. Since no prison could hold him, he was thrown into a crucible of molting iron where his demonic spirit was captured in the form of a great black cauldron. For uncounted centuries The Black Cauldron remained hidden while evil men searched for it. Knowing whoever possessed it would have the power to resurrect an army of deathless warriors. And with them, rule the world."

- The Black Cauldron

-

Big black pot of death. All I ever cared to learn from my father's stories: it wouldn't be wise to wake an army of undead warriors. After years of being dead, they would probably be a little cranky.

Yet as tiny pebbles scratch the bottoms of my bare feet, all I want is to find that stupid metal bowl, raise the dead, and make the warriors kill the masked demon who trapped me in this underground maze.

My golden bauble floats ahead, brightening a never-ending stone hallway, illuminating thick cobwebs covered in dust. It moves when I want it to. It goes whichever direction my mind commands, and I don't know why or how. It's always been like that. For as long as I can remember, I've controlled this little ball of light with a single thought.

With every twenty or so steps I lift my chin and see the same loose stone brick. It leads to the prison cell I was escorted to however long ago. There is no way out.

A high-pitched giggle echoes against the stone walls, fading to silence. "Hello, Princess."

My grip tightens around the hilt of a sword. It's heavy in my hands. "Who goes there?"

A cloud of gray smoke dissipates into nothing. I'm not alone in this underground prison.

"Who goes there?" I ask again. My bauble glows brighter, but the hallway is empty.

"I've been watching you," the voice says. "You're walking in circles."

"Am I? I hadn't noticed."  My mouth waters with the scent of smoked pork. A silver platter of food waits around the corner. I lose focus and the light dims. The sword clatters against the concrete. I kneel in front of the offering. "What do you want in exchange for this meal? Name your price."

A shadow looms over me from behind. "Your name."

"My name?" I ask, taking a roll of bread in my palm. "Is that all you desire?"

"Your name," he says again. A little laugh echoes through the hall. "And your sword."  

"This sword is all I have," I say, taking the hilt in my hand. I tighten my grip and stand, preparing to turn and swing at the man standing behind me. "I can't give it to you."

I blink and the food is gone.

"Wait." Dammit. It's my life in exchange for a sword I stole from a corpse in the catacombs around the corner. "Eilonwy," I say. "My name is Eilonwy."

"It's lovely to make your acquaintance, Princess Eilonwy."

Every bone in my body trembles as I turn with the sword in my grip. I'm ready to swing, but the hallway behind me is empty.

"Now, the sword." The owner of the voice sits on the ground near a silver platter of smoked pork and stewed cabbage with his ankles crossed, smiling at me. He's less than a man, a creature with oily green scales for skin and snake-like eyes. Chalky hair tangles toward his shoulders. Everyone in Prydain has been warned about the darkness that consumes his soul. 

I place the sword on the ground, and it disappears in a cloud of smoke. "Do I get the pleasure of knowing your name?" 

The dark one holds the sword in his hand, admiring the blade. "Eat, child."

I lower myself to the ground. My bauble shines golden light over the personified darkness sitting across from me. "Your name," I say. "What is it?"

"You aren't in a position to make demands, dearie." He aims the sword at me. "Eat."

I eat the pork and the cabbage, saving the bread for later. "Why are you here?" 

He doesn't answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I have no reason to kill you right now." There is a tiny hint of humanism hidden behind his green eyes, a glimmer of sympathy, amusement. "I'm as much a prisoner as you. I need your help as much as you need mine."

I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my dress. "How are you a prisoner? You've got magic."

"How are you a prisoner?" he repeats, almost singing. When he waves toward the golden orb floating between us, my mind pulls it out of his reach. "You've got magic." 

"You have dark magic." I keep the loaf of bread in a pocket on my skirt. "I've got a floating nightlight." 

"Telekinesis isn't a simple skill, Princess." The sword disappears in a cloud of smoke. "You've got potential to be a powerful enchantress. I can teach you how to harness the magic flowing through your veins."

"Why should I trust you?"

He appears beside me, kneeling. "You shouldn't."

"I don't care about being an enchantress," I say with a mouthful of food. "I want out of this prison."

With a slight wave of his hand, a spinning wheel appears. His eyes darken. "I can teach you how to escape. . . for a price."

"I don't have anything else to give you," I say. If he asks for my bauble, I will refuse. I would rather die at the hands of the dark one than give away my light.

He appears at the spinning wheel, seated with his eyes closed, gently swaying, humming. His pointed nails slide around pieces of straw, turning it into gold. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

I stand, dusting my palms on my skirt. "How is learning to spin straw into gold going to help me escape?"

His eyes open, and before I can take a breath, we switch places. I sit at the spinning wheel with straw between my fingers.

"It's not about straw and it's not about gold, dearie. It's about focus." His shoes tap against the concrete as he paces toward me, standing by my side. "If you aren't concentrating, your light dims, hmm?"

"I don't want to use dark magic," I tell him. My parents were good. I'm the only living descendent of the royal family in Prydain. I have to be good too. "Can you teach me how to use light magic?"

"I can teach you how to use magic." A second stool appears. The dark one sits beside me. "Light or dark, you decide for yourself."

"What would you expect of me?" I ask. "Once I've escaped, what price must I pay for what I've learned?"

"No price," he says with a smile. "I only ask that you return my dagger to me."

"I don't know where your dagger is."

"You are not tasked with finding it, you are tasked with retrieving it." A little laugh rolls from his lips. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," I say. I don't think twice. "We have a deal. Teach me how to escape this prison."

I tug at the straw, but nothing happens. It doesn't turn to gold. Loose pieces fall in my lap and on the floor. The man watches me fail over and over and over again, not making a sound. My light dims until we are sitting in darkness.

"This is ridiculous." I focus on my bauble. Golden light illuminates the hallway. "I don't have real magic."

"Patience." His scaly hands are surprisingly smooth as they guide my hands around the straw. "Close your eyes. Focus on your breath."

I inhale, closing my eyes. He lets go of my hands, and I'm in full control of the spinning wheel.

"Feel the magic flowing through your body," he whispers. "Trace the magic moving through your arms, to your palms. Feel it warm your fingertips."

A shiver travels up my spine. The golden light from my bauble flickers.

"Trust me, Princess. I'm not your enemy," he says in my ear. "Allow yourself to relax into your breath. You are strong. You are powerful."

The light from my bauble shines brighter as the straw in my hands hardens into gold.

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