by Chris Colfer
“Well?” the Snow Queen growled. “Do it.”
Brystal jumped at the sound of her raspy voice. She was confused about who the Snow Queen was talking to—Brystal had been so quiet, there was no way the witch could have seen or heard her hiding in the cupboard. She glanced around the dining hall to see if someone else had entered the room, but Brystal and the Snow Queen were the only ones there.
“What’s the matter?” the Snow Queen growled. “Are you getting cold feet?”
To Brystal’s absolute horror, she realized the Snow Queen was talking to her—the witch could see her reflection in a mirror across the hall!
Before Brystal had a chance to say or do anything, the Snow Queen whipped around and lunged toward the china cabinet. She grabbed Brystal by the throat and raised her into the air. Brystal dropped her wand and used both hands to pry the witch’s bony fingers off her neck, but her grip was too tight. She tried to kick the Snow Queen off, but the witch was as strong as a brick wall.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance!” she roared.
As the Snow Queen choked her, Brystal was so close to the witch’s face she could see every crack of her frostbitten skin, every crooked tooth of her jagged smile, and the pupils of her glowing red eyes. However, there was something about the witch’s eyes that Brystal could have sworn she recognized, and once she noticed it, the rest of the Snow Queen’s face became very familiar, too.
“No,” Brystal wheezed. “No, it can’t be…”
The thought was so distressing, Brystal kicked her legs even harder, and her foot knocked the icicle scepter out of the Snow Queen’s other hand. The scepter fell and shattered into hundreds of pieces on the floor. As soon as the scepter slipped from her fingertips, the Snow Queen lost all her strength. The witch dropped Brystal on the floor and collapsed beside her. The Snow Queen tried crawling away from Brystal, but the witch was so weak without her scepter, she could barely move.
Once Brystal caught her breath, she grabbed the Snow Queen’s shoulder and forced the witch on her back so they could face each other. The Snow Queen’s glowing red eyes slowly diminished and turned into a pair of eyes Brystal had seen many times before.
There was no denying it now—Brystal knew exactly who the Snow Queen really was—and the discovery made her heart feel like it had been ripped in half.
“Madame Weatherberry?” she gasped. “It’s you!”
Brystal had never experienced such shock in her life. As the reality sank in, Brystal’s whole body went numb, and she couldn’t even feel the freezing air circulating the palace. Her mind was bombarded with millions of questions, but only a single word escaped her mouth.
“How?”
The exposed fairy was humiliated and covered her frostbitten face. She crawled to the dining table and used a chair to pull herself onto her feet.
“I never wanted you to find out,” Madame Weatherberry said. “You were supposed to kill me before you learned the truth.”
“But… but… how is this even possible? How could you be the Snow Queen?”
“Sometimes good people do bad things for the right reasons.”
“Bad things?” Brystal asked in disbelief. “Madame Weatherberry, nothing could possibly justify what you’ve done! You’ve been lying since the day I met you! You’ve covered the world in a devastating storm! You’ve destroyed an entire kingdom and taken thousands of lives!”
“IT’S NOTHING COMPARED TO THE LIVES THEY’VE TAKEN FROM US!”
For a split second, the Snow Queen returned to Madame Weatherberry’s body. The fairy screamed in agony, as if a creature was trying to claw its way out from inside her. Brystal retrieved her wand to defend herself against the witch. As she watched Madame Weatherberry struggle, Brystal realized her teacher and the Snow Queen weren’t the same person, but two very different beings fighting over the same body. Eventually, the fairy regained control and suppressed the witch like a growing illness.
“I never meant for any of this to happen,” Madame Weatherberry said. “All I wanted was to make the world a better place for people like us—all I wanted was to secure acceptance for the magical community. But I lost myself along the way, and created her.”
“How could someone lose themselves that much?”
Brystal was so befuddled she felt like she might faint. Madame Weatherberry lowered her head in shame and took a deep breath before explaining.
“Do you remember our conversation the day after you were attacked by the witch hunters? We were sitting in my office and you asked me how I managed to stay so optimistic. You asked me why I wasn’t consumed with anger. I told you it was because we were the lucky ones. I told you that fighting for love and acceptance meant we truly knew love and acceptance, and how that notion gave me peace. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, I remember,” Brystal said.
“Well, I lied to you,” Madame Weatherberry said. “The truth is, I’ve been angry my entire life. When I was young, I was very sensitive to the world’s cruelty, and it filled me with an unbearable fury. I ignored all the good things in my life and focused solely on the injustice around me. I became bitter, I became depressed, and I became desperate to get rid of my rage. But I didn’t go about taking the proper steps to help myself. I was too embarrassed and prideful to seek the treatment I needed. Instead I pushed all my anger deep within myself, and I hoped if I pushed it deep enough, I’d never be able to find it. Over the years, I added more and more anger to my secret collection, and eventually, I created a monster inside me.”
“You mean the Snow Queen lives inside you?” Brystal asked.
“Yes,” Madame Weatherberry said. “I spent the majority of my life ignoring her, but I’ve always known she was there, growing stronger after every heartbreak. With time, I noticed that many people in the magical community were suffering from similar ailments. Our anger manifested itself in different ways—some drank too many potions to numb the pain, others turned to witchcraft as a way to release it—but one by one, I watched my friends lose themselves to their inner demons. I didn’t want another generation of fairies or witches to experience what we were feeling, so I decided to devote my life to securing acceptance for our community, so the future would be spared humankind’s hatred.”
“So you wrote and published The Truth About Magic,” Brystal said. “You tried to convince the world there was a difference between fairies and witches—you tried to redefine the magical community to save it.”
Madame Weatherberry nodded. “However, the endeavor quickly backfired. My book was banned in all the kingdoms and I became a global pariah. As punishment for my attempts, the Northern Kingdom sent a cavalcade of soldiers to my home in the In-Between. They strapped my husband to a wooden post and burned him alive while they forced me to watch.”
“Horence!” Brystal gasped with large eyes. “You’re the witch from his story! Horence tried to warn me before I came here. I didn’t understand what he was saying at the time, but he was warning me about you! He was telling me that two things were about to become one! That carving in the woods—those were your initials!”
“Horence Marks and Snowy Weatherberry,” she said. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Snowy is your real name?” Brystal asked. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It isn’t,” she said. “The fairies named me Snowy Celeste Weatherberry after my specialty. They said I started causing storms from the moment I was born.”
Brystal had been so focused on discovering her own specialty, she had never asked Madame Weatherberry what her specialty was. Now that she knew the answer, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t figured it out already, and not just because weather was in her name.
“On our first night at the academy, there was a horrible thunderstorm,” she said. “You summoned that storm because you knew it would frighten us and bring us closer together, didn’t you? And after Lucy and I went into the In-Between, you sent us another thunderstorm so we wouldn’t leave
the castle while you were gone! And two days ago, you sent that snowflake to the academy so I would come to the Northern Kingdom! You’ve been using the weather to manipulate us from the beginning!”
The fairy nodded again. Brystal scrunched her forehead because something about Madame Weatherberry’s story still wasn’t adding up.
“But why did the fairies name you?” she asked. “When we recruited Emerelda from the coal mine, you said you were raised by a human family. You said they tried to kill you and that’s how you got the burns on your left arm.”
“I lied,” Madame Weatherberry said. “I only told that story to convince Emerelda to join the academy. The burns on my arm didn’t come from a fire—it was frostbite. The same frostbite that covers me now.”
“So you got those marks from using witchcraft,” Brystal said. “That’s why you started covering yourself with gloves and coats. And that’s why you wouldn’t let Mrs. Vee treat your wounds. The bruise I saw on your face, that was frostbite, too, wasn’t it? The more damage you cause as the Snow Queen, the more the frostbite covers you.”
Madame Weatherberry looked down at her bony, blackened hands and sighed with a heavy heart.
“Correct,” she said. “And the more she covers me on the outside, the more she consumes me on the inside.”
“But what led you to witchcraft in the first place?” Brystal asked. “How did you go from writing The Truth About Magic to destroying an entire kingdom?”
“After Horence was killed, I used witchcraft for the very first time to bring him back from the dead,” she explained. “The spell was a complete disaster. Horence returned to earth as an unnatural being, and my left arm was changed forever—but it wasn’t only my arm that changed. I told you the witch in Horence’s story died after she conjured the spell—but that wasn’t entirely untrue, because part of me did die that day.”
“How so?” Brystal asked.
“My husband never committed a crime or hurt anyone in his life, but humankind murdered him simply to teach me a lesson. And indeed, I learned a very valuable lesson that day. I suddenly realized I had been foolish for believing The Truth About Magic was enough to change humanity’s ways—they would never be persuaded by the logic or empathy of a book. The only way humankind was going to accept the magical community was to fear and need the magical community. We had to give them a problem, and then we had to be the solution. And as I laid eyes on my frostbitten skin for the very first time, I knew exactly what problem to create.”
“The Snow Queen?”
“Precisely,” Madame Weatherberry said. “To become the Snow Queen, I had to access all the anger that I had suppressed over the years. Just like your wand put you in touch with your magic, the scepter put me in touch with my rage. Unfortunately, there was so much fury waiting inside me, the task became overwhelming. Each time I picked up the scepter, the Snow Queen became stronger and stronger, and it became harder and harder to fight her off. I asked Feliena, Newtalia, Squidelle, and Crowbeth to join me and help me with the transitions—but the witches cared more about revenge than acceptance. They allowed the Snow Queen to control me and they used her like a weapon.”
“But why didn’t you stop?” Brystal asked. “If the Snow Queen was consuming you like this, why did you keep returning to the Northern Kingdom?”
“Because the world wasn’t taking her seriously,” Madame Weatherberry said. “My plan would only work if the whole world saw the Snow Queen as an unstoppable threat. It would take complete desperation for them to turn to witches and fairies for help. But King Nobleton consistently lied to the other monarchs about the destruction the Snow Queen caused. So to gain the other sovereigns’ attention, I increased the attacks and made each one grander than the one before. However, it didn’t matter how hard the Snow Queen struck the Northern Kingdom, the other monarchs ignored her. The only way King Champion, Queen Endustria, and King Warworth would ever acknowledge the Snow Queen was if her destruction went worldwide.”
“And now you’ve covered all the kingdoms in a blizzard,” Brystal said. “You’ve given humankind the ultimate problem, so how is the magical community the solution? Who are they supposed to turn to for help?”
Madame Weatherberry hesitated before responding, and Brystal could tell the answer was going to be difficult to hear.
“The academy,” she confessed.
“What?” Brystal gasped.
“If the world had recognized the Snow Queen’s first attack, I would have never had to involve anyone else,” Madame Weatherberry said. “I could have been the problem and the solution to my plan. But as the attacks continued, I realized the Snow Queen would likely devour me before I completed my mission. So I recruited a coalition of fairies to finish what I had started in case I was compromised.”
“So that’s the real reason you started the academy?” Brystal asked in disbelief. “You weren’t training us to help and heal people, you were training us to be your assassins?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said teaching was the greatest privilege of my life,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Watching you and the others flourish has brought me happiness like I’ve never known before. I’m deeply remorseful to put you in this position now, but in order for us to succeed, I’m afraid you have to fulfill the promises you made me.”
Brystal felt like her stomach had been yanked out of her body.
“Madame Weatherberry, no!” she cried. “I could never kill you!”
“Yes, you can,” Madame Weatherberry said. “When humankind learns that you saved the world from global annihilation, they’ll finally have a reason to respect and accept the magical community. You and your classmates will lead the world into a new era where people like us will never have to hide in the shadows, where they can live openly without fear, and they’ll never be crippled by their anger again.”
“No!” Brystal said. “There has to be another way!”
“This is the only way,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Believe me, I wish there was an easier path to take, but this is the greatest opportunity that fairies and witches have had in centuries! If we don’t do this now, it may be another millennium before we have a second chance!”
“No, we’ll find a better solution!” Brystal said. “Come back to the academy! We’ll find a way to cure you from the Snow Queen!”
“It’s too late for that,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Scepter or no scepter, the Snow Queen has consumed me past the point of no return. I have days—maybe hours—before she takes me over completely. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life imprisoned inside her.”
Madame Weatherberry raised Brystal’s wrist so the tip of her wand was pointing to her teacher’s frostbitten forehead.
“Please, I’m begging you!” the fairy said.
“No! I can’t do this!”
“We don’t have a choice!”
“I’m sorry, Madame Weatherberry, but I—”
“YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO DEFEAT ME, YOU STUPID INCOMPETENT GIRL!”
Suddenly, the Snow Queen resurfaced in Madame Weatherberry’s body. The witch wrapped her hands around Brystal’s throat and started choking her again. Brystal couldn’t breathe, her vision blurred, and she started losing consciousness. If she didn’t act fast, she would die in the Snow Queen’s hands. Brystal raised her wand, pointed it at the witch, and made a decision that she would regret for the rest of her life.
BAM! A bright and powerful blast erupted from Brystal’s wand and hit the Snow Queen directly in the chest. The witch flew across the dining hall and landed hard on the floor. Brystal kept her wand raised as she cautiously approached the Snow Queen’s motionless body. The witch’s eyes fluttered open, but instead of seeing the Snow Queen’s glowing red gaze, Madame Weatherberry’s eyes returned.
“What… what… what just happened?” she asked.
“I made my decision,” Brystal said. “And I’m not killing anyone.”
“You should have finished her! All of this could be over by
now!”
“You might be right,” Brystal said. “And later I may regret sparing you, but not nearly as much as I would regret ending your life. I’ll never understand why you chose violence as a road to peace, I’ll never understand why you chose fear as a remedy to hate, but I will not repeat your mistakes. If I’m going to continue down the path you’ve paved, then I’m going to walk it at my own pace.”
“Brystal, humankind will need proof that you slayed the Snow Queen! My death is the only way you’ll earn their trust!”
“You’re wrong!” Brystal said. “You don’t have to die for your plan to succeed—on the contrary, all the destruction you’ve caused, all the fear you’ve instilled, and all the lives you’ve taken will all be meaningless without you!”
“What are you talking about?” Madame Weatherberry asked.
“You said it yourself. The only way humankind will respect and accept the magical community is if they need the magical community,” Brystal explained. “But the minute the Snow Queen is destroyed, humankind won’t need us anymore. They’ll forget she ever existed, they’ll rewrite history to say they were the ones who conquered her, and the world will go back to hating fairies and witches just like before. But if you stay alive, and keep the world in fear of the Snow Queen striking again, the magical community will always have leverage over humankind.”
“But I can’t keep fighting her like this,” Madame Weatherberry said.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Brystal said. “You said you only have days or hours before the Snow Queen consumes you completely—well, I say you have years or decades left in you. You’re giving up because you don’t want to fight her anymore, but the Madame Weatherberry I know and love would never let me quit like this, and I’m not going to let you, either.”
“But what do you suggest I do? Where do you suggest I go?”
“I suggest you use whatever strength and time you have left to get as far away from civilization as possible. Take yourself deep into the Northern Mountains and get lost in a cave somewhere. Find a place that’s so far removed not even a Map of Magic would detect you. Send a gentle snowstorm through the kingdoms every now and then to remind humankind that you’re still around, but whatever you do, keep yourself alive.”
