A big thanks to Justin for revealing an alternate choice!
Deaglan swerved right, seizing the dark reflection of himself.
He shattered and the world fell away. There was a bridging moment between the past and the future, and he was his future self. The smell of rot around him was muted by the icy cold as he made his way through the cemetery just passed the undermountain gates of his Unseelie fortress.
There was a rush of wind, and he was in the human world again, treading upon his secret paths. Secret words were said and he disappeared from mortal eyes. He didn’t want to scare anyone with his grim form.
The cart behind him creaked in the cold mists. His life was lonely, but, he took comfort in knowing that he was on the side of good. His eyes no longer saw the world like he once did, now that he chose the path of faerie, but, the Unseelie court was considered a scary force of good. His memories drifted back to Halloweentown from when Reggie had shown him Nightmare Before Christmas.
Deaglan stopped the cart. Before him was a simple home. He saw it as where the magic of the still earth met the magic of hearth and home. The windows opened for him as he looked inside. He couldn’t see photographs or similar things anymore, but, he assumed it was there.
“Philip Marlowe,” Deaglan whispered, throwing back his hood, unveiling his crown. “I’ve come to escort you to your new home.”
Slowly, the man’s spirit stepped up, and left his mortal remains behind, shuffling toward Deaglan’s cart. As the door of the house opened, predator spirits of sorrow rose up. At the smell of them, Deaglan’s unseen hounds rushed forward, hungry. They tore the sorrow spirits to shreds within moments.
It was a colder life Deaglan lived, now that he was fully fae, but, he knew that this family at least, was better off with the choices he made.
Reality condensed in the cold air around Deaglan, leaving him shivering before the mirror. He was back on the carnival grounds, in the twisted hall of mirrors. He had a mission to complete. They had to rescue Alea. They had to be heroes. Could he really be a hero though, knowing his future? It hadn’t seemed as vile and evil as it appeared, but it was so… dreary. It wasn’t what a hero looked like.
“Deaglan, let’s go!”
When they found the center of the maze, they found Alea. She stood frozen before them, posed to strike at the mirror she was trapped in. Within moments, the hard work of the team released her from imprisonment. He could be a hero. They all could.
Whitestar, Alea’s mythical sword, popped back into her hands from nothingness, and she smote the entrapping mirror, shattering it and the merged realities of Avalon, Anwnn, and Earth.
He should be falling, but he wasn’t. He was next to Angel and across from him was Alea. It was a little over a year ago, and this was his first day making friends at Claremont. He had just come back from a puzzle room with other students
They, along with the rest of the students, had just been busted by Vice Principal Dugan for a late night party, despite MC hiding the party goers from sight.
“You have five minutes,” the Vice Principal stated sternly, before closing the door.
Someone muttered in the background after the door shut. “Man, if only we had more time.”
Angel looked between Deaglan and Alea, and proposed an idea; use the two of them as magic ‘batteries’, so their faerie magic could slow the five minutes into five hours.
They had to hold hands. Alea readily accepted Angel’s hand. Deaglan was hesitant, especially with the implication of the term ‘battery’. There was also a bit of contempt between him and Alea, as their first encounter was less than friendly.
“Angel, this isn’t going to work,” Alea stated matter-of-factly. “He’s Unseelie, why would he help others?”
The remark sparked Dealgan’s temper, yet it was quelled by a feeling of assurance. Alea’s previous remark to him rung out in his mind.
“Because at Claremont, we’re all heroes,” He stated matter-of-factly. “_That’s why_.” Deaglan took the girls hands, completing the circuit, and time condensed around them. He felt exhausted, but what’s more, he felt good. He wouldn’t let someone else dictate his being. He could be good. He could be normal, like everyone else… Maybe he would get one of those IDs… What did Noah call them? A Driver’s License?
As time folded around him, so did reality, and now he stood before a door. It was Coach Boomer’s office.