FILLED WITH REGRET, MALEFICENT SPENT THE NEXT DAY SITTING LISTLESSLY BY THE WALL. The thought of seeing Aurora’s innocent face that evening was heart-wrenching. She felt this new, intense need to protect the girl from the ugliness of the world, but ironically, she was part of it. For she was the one who had cursed her, and she was the one who had made it impossible for her to live a full life, on the Moors or with her family. And, Maleficent thought with a sad laugh, Aurora had been the one to remind her just how important family and friends were. Aurora’s birthday was swiftly approaching, and Maleficent felt more hopeless, more powerless with every day that passed.

By the time Aurora arrived that night, Maleficent was overtaken by feelings she had thought she had left behind. But never one to show her pain or fear, she simply remained quiet, the torment on her face the only indication of what was going on inside her head.

Unaware of what her faerie godmother was going through, Aurora prattled on about the cake she had made that day. She had had to go far to find the berries, but it had been worth it, she said, as the aunts were very fond of sweets. Distracted by a faerie fluttering between trees, its green body mimicking the leaves, Aurora interrupted herself, asking, “Do all of the Fair People have wings?”

“Most do,” Maleficent replied shortly, not in the mood for conversation. It was hard enough just listening to Aurora’s singsong voice without breaking down, admitting that she had cursed her, and then begging for forgiveness.

But Aurora didn’t take the hint. “Then why don’t you?”

“It’s not anything I wish to talk about,” Maleficent said softly.

“I’m just curious because all the other faeries have wings and —”

It was too much for Maleficent. “Enough!” she snapped.

Aurora instantly became quiet and they walked on in silence. Glancing at the princess, Maleficent saw that her face had grown pale and her eyes were watery. Seeing the pain she had caused, Maleficent softened. “I had wings once,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, the pain sharp just from remembering them. “But they were stolen from me. And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

But she had given Aurora only a tidbit of information and the princess wanted more. “What color were they?” she asked, growing excited. “How big were they?”

Looking off into the distance, as though she could see them on the horizon, Maleficent smiled sadly. “So big they dragged behind me when I walked. And they were strong.” As she spoke of her long-lost wings, she felt an itch on her back where the scars remained. “They could carry me above the clouds and straight into headwinds. They never faltered. Not even once. I could trust them.”

As her words faded, Maleficent dared not look at Aurora. She had never said those words aloud. Never admitted to anyone just how much the wings had meant to her and how much it had hurt when Stefan took them away. They had reminded her of her mother, but they had also become the features that she linked to her own identity —her soaring, organic identity.

Suddenly, she felt long fingers intertwine with hers. Looking down, she saw that Aurora had put her delicate hand in hers and was squeezing tight. Meeting her gaze, Maleficent saw the pain she felt reflected in Aurora’s eyes. It overwhelmed her. Slowly, she pulled her hand free. She had already lost so much she loved. And now it was only a matter of time before Aurora, too, was taken away.

Maleficent’s wings were carrying him, higher and higher into a sky the color of soot. He struggled against them, kicking wildly. Soon he saw their target. The Thorn Wall gleamed in the moonlight below him, the boulder-sized thorns pointed up. The wings were taking him right above it. Even if he survived the fall, he would never survive the impalement he was sure to experience. Just as he felt the wings let go, Stefan woke up, gasping, in his chamber.

Another nightmare. Would those wings never cease haunting him, even in sleep? Quickly, he got dressed and headed to the battlements. He needed to be active, to see the progress his men were making.

But as Stefan approached the scene, he was sorely disappointed. Nothing was being done. There were no workers in sight besides the overseer of the ironworkers, who was snoring loudly in the corner. Stefan grabbed a bucket of water and threw it at the sleeping man. The overseer bolted up, shocked and disheveled.

“Where are your men?” Stefan asked.

“In their beds, Majesty,” the overseer responded, shivering.

“Get them back to work without delay.”

The man hesitated, unsure how to refuse the king. “They’re exhausted, sire. But I’ll have them back to work at first light.”

“I need them back to work now,” Stefan insisted.

The overseer wasn’t sure what the king meant. Work now? “It’s the wee hours,” he started.

“Aye, aye,” the king agreed. “It is the wee hours. So wake them up.”

“Sire?”

His patience exhausted, Stefan slammed the man against the wall. “So wake them up and get them back to work now! We’re running out of time. Go now!”

For the next few days, Maleficent walked around in a conflicted daze. She barely spoke, didn’t eat, and didn’t even bother tricking the pixies or turning Diaval into various animals. Even being in her grove or running her hands over the velvety cattails gave her little comfort. More and more often she found herself making her way to the shores of the Dark Pond. On the edge of the Moors farthest from the Wall, the pond was home to the darker creatures of the faerie world. It was there the ram trolls resided alongside hog trolls with their furry hog-wart mounts. The pond itself was dark, too. No wallerbogs cleaned its waters, and the stone faeries dared not go close. It was a lonely place. A place for the dark-hearted. It is where I deserve to be, Maleficent told herself every time she arrived. For only someone with a heart as dark as mine could do something so evil to a girl with a heart as light as Aurora’s.

Aware of his mistress’s dark thoughts, Diaval often accompanied her to the Dark Pond, where he would sit silently with her until she was ready to leave. But one afternoon, several days after Aurora had taken Maleficent’s hand in hers, Diaval was not there when Maleficent left the grove. Discovering her gone, he quickly flew to the Dark Pond and, upon arriving, landed on her shoulder. He began to rub his feathered head against her as though comforting her. But Maleficent was not in the mood. “Stop!” she ordered.

He began to rub harder. With an angry wave of her hand, she transformed him into a man. When he was up on two feet, he looked at Maleficent, his expression worried. “Mistress,” he said, “you’re miserable.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she replied.

“No, you’re miserable,” Diaval repeated.

“I’m going to make you miserable if you don’t stop saying that.”

Diaval shook his head. There was no getting through to her with words. But maybe…? He slowly reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, hoping to comfort the upset faerie. It didn’t work. She turned her icy glare on him and shook his hand off. As Maleficent turned and began to walk away, she silently fumed. What right did Diaval have to try to comfort her? Who did he think he was? He was why she was in this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t been so bent on making sure Aurora was all right in that little cottage with those obnoxious faeries, she never would have seen the child. Never would have watched her grow up. Never would have grown fond of her. Never would have had to tell her something that was going to break the girl’s heart. But that was what she had to do. Maleficent knew that now. It was what had been eating away at her since she’d last seen Aurora. She had to tell her the truth about the world. And it wasn’t going to be easy. Letting out a groan, she stalked to the Wall to wait for night, when the stars and the truth would all come out.

A light snow had fallen during the day so that now, as Maleficent and Aurora walked across the Moors and made their way to one of their favorite spots, the Snow Faerie Meadow, their footsteps were muffled by the soft powder. In the cold they could see their breath coming out in little clouds. The landscape was beautiful, the hills covered in white and the stars twinkling in the sky above.

If only I didn’t have to ruin the beauty with darkness, Maleficent thought. Straightening her shoulders, she shook off the thought. It was now or never.

“Aurora,” she began, “there is something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?” Aurora said, looking up at her, innocent and pure as ever.

Maleficent stopped walking and shuffled on her feet for a moment, unsure how to proceed. “There is evil in the world,” she finally said. “I cannot keep you safe from it.”

Expecting the princess to look scared, Maleficent was surprised to see her smile. “I’m almost sixteen, Godmother. I can take care of myself.”

Maleficent smiled despite herself. The girl was so brave yet so naive. “I understand. But that’s not —”

Aurora interrupted her. “I have a plan,” she said, her face lighting up with excitement. “When I’m older, I’m going to live here in the Moors with you. And then we can look after each other.”

Looking at the proud smile on Aurora’s face, Maleficent had no choice but to smile back. It was clear the girl had put a lot of thought into this. And that she not only wanted to live in the Moors but wanted to be a part of Maleficent’s life was beyond touching. Aurora didn’t know what her future held, the curse that was inevitable. She thought she had her whole life in front of her. And she wanted to spend it in the Moors, not in the cottage with her aunts, where things would be easier. There she had a home and was surrounded by family —at least, she thought they were family. There in the Moors, she would have only the woodland creatures as companions. True, she would also have Diaval and Maleficent, but what fun could they possibly be after any length of time? But it would be so nice…

As Aurora’s words sank in, Maleficent’s heart began to beat faster. Wait a minute, she thought. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to prevent the curse and give Aurora what she wanted —and, frankly, what Maleficent wanted, too. If the girl lived in the Moors, she would never be able to touch a spinning wheel. She could avoid the fate placed upon her nearly sixteen years earlier. Her excitement building, Maleficent turned to Aurora. “You don’t have to wait until you’re older,” she said. “You could live here now.”

But Aurora shook her head sadly. “My aunts would never let me.”

“I thought you could take care of yourself,” Maleficent said, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. Now that the idea had lodged itself in her brain, she couldn’t let it go.

“I can,” Aurora said. “But they would be sad without me.” She paused and then smiled as she, too, had an idea. “Could they come visit me?”

Maleficent stifled a groan. Knotgrass, Thistlewit, and Flittle? Here? The pixie traitors back in the Moors and, worse still, in her grove? The idea was abhorrent. The three little pixies had abandoned their home to live with the enemy… and yet they had raised Aurora. And while it pained Maleficent to admit it, they hadn’t done that bad a job. Even if it had taken a little unseen help from her and Diaval. Looking down at the hopeful expression on Aurora’s face, Maleficent knew she had no choice. If she wanted the girl to be safe in the Moors, she was going to have to let the pixies through the Wall. Though it wouldn’t be all the time. Just every once in a while. But that was something she and Aurora could discuss at a later point. For now, she was simply going to say yes.

Aurora let out a happy squeal and clapped her hands. “Then I will!” she exclaimed. “I’ll sleep in a tree and eat berries and black nuts, and all the Fair People will be my friends. I’ll be happy here for the rest of my life. I’m going to tell them tomorrow.” As she spoke, she skipped ahead, lost in thoughts of her life to come.

Behind her, Maleficent watched, pleased that things were going to work out after all.