The Grimm Diaries Prequels Volume 15 - 18

by Cameron Jace

  “You seem most interested in this question, Angel,” she said, still weaving.

  We didn’t ask how she knew his name. It was pointless to ask the woman who weaved the world. She probably knew the name of rats, ants, birds, and the tiniest creatures in the world that she’d been weaving. “If a mirror reflects a man’s right as his left, why wouldn’t it reflect his upside as his downside. Or better,” she raised her head, meeting Angel’s eyes. “Could it be that it reflects a man’s evil as his good? Is it possible that we never see our own evil, and that it can on be seen by others?”

  Angel shrugged, and I grabbed his arm. This lady saw right through us.

  “Would you mind telling us who you are?” I asked. “What is this place?”

  “It’s an island. It exists, and doesn’t at the same time. It only shows itself for those who ask for it. Those who don’t, will never be blessed with seeing it,” she said. “If you’re capable of accepting this for an answer, we shall continue our conversation.”

  I nodded, perplexed. Angel didn’t move.

  “As for me, my name is Lady Shallot. Some call me the Lady of Light. Neither is my real name of course, because the mirror never reflects your name, does it?”

  We weren’t going to argue. We were glad to be alive, and we decided to listen to her, for she may be able to help us.

  “People have the need to name things, even when the meaning of things is already inside them and doesn’t need to be labeled. If you never knew an apple was called ‘apple,’ would you change your mind about how good it tastes or how poisonous it is?”

  “If I may ask,” Angel said in a hesitant voice. “What do you do, Lady Shallot?”

  “That’s a pretty rude question to ask,” she laughed. It was a kindhearted laugh. She wasn’t belittling Angel, only something in his question amused her. “Would you ask a God what he does?”

  “Are you a God?” Angel asked eagerly.

  She smiled to herself, “Would you ask a God if he or she were a God?”

  Angel was entranced by her indecipherable words. On the other hand, I noticed her interest in talking to him, but not so much to me.

  “I’m a weaver. I weave worlds,” she said, peeking back at the world she’d just woven in the mirror. “Although this one needs a sun and a moon, like I said. Suns and moons are always the hardest to weave,” she turned back and took her time looking at Angel and, finally, me again. “But that’s not what you really want to ask me. Is it?”

  “That’s true,” Angel nodded. “We were lost in the ocean for…”

  “Seven days,” she sighed. “A man is always lost for seven days in the ocean. Either he ends up being saved by the daylight of the seventh day, or damned by the same day’s nightfall. It’s a universal truth.”

  “I want to reach a real shore,” Angel neglected her cryptic messages. “I want to find a land where my wife and I can start a new life, and forget about our past.”

  “There is no shore for you two,” Lady Shallot said bluntly, still tentatively weaving something.

  “What do you mean by that?” Angel frowned. “We’re not going to be trapped in the ocean for the rest of our lives. We’ve been through a lot. This isn’t just.”

  “Don’t talk to me about justice,” Lady Shallot said. “You may bring that up with Godmother Justina. She lives here in the same ocean. If you want to reach her, you only have to know in your heart that you want to meet her, and then stay strong while swimming the ocean for a couple of days.”

  “Are you saying we reached you because we…” I proposed.

  “Because in your heart you two are looking for a home, not justice,” she said. “Justice is overrated if you ask me. It’s a myth and is unattainable,” she shook her shoulders, sounding like a displeased grandmother for a moment. “Good versus evil is also overrated. You can’t search for them, but you can always search for a home.”

  I turned my gaze to Angel and squeezed his strong arm. What Lady Shallot said was true. Angel and I had been talking about that for many days while lost in the ocean, lying upon a log. We imagined if we could finally build our little house, we could expand it to our own little kingdom to protect us from Angel’s father, Night Sorrow.

  “So can you help us find a home?” Angel turned back to her after tapping my hands gently.

  “Find, no,” Lady Shallot said. “Weave, yes,” she raised her head from the red ball of thread, and smiled like mothers smile at their infant children. “You see, there is almost no escape from what you two are running from.”

  “Why?” Angel asked furiously.

  “Because the one you are running from is your own blood.” Lady Shallot leaned forward, just enough not to cross the circle. It was as if she were trapped inside the Dream Temple. I wondered what should happen to her if she crossed it. “Your father will find you wherever you are. The last thing you want is a shore, because that’s where he awaits. The ocean is actually much safer.”

  “So how can you help us? What did you mean by ‘weave?’?” Angel asked.

  “I can weave a world, a kingdom of your own, like the many worlds I am working on now,” she pointed back at the mirror. “I’ll create a place for you that is untraceable, where you will be safe from him.”

  “By weaving it?” I asked.

  “I’ll weave mountains, forests, rivers, stars, and everything you need. It will be my gift to you for the courage and nobility you have shown by escaping all evil, crossing the oceans of the world.”

  “And that place will be ours?” Angel asked.

  “Definitely. But you will have to work hard to take care of it. It will be your own kingdom. Your home.”

  “The Kingdom of Sorrow,” Angel looked me in the eyes. I hadn’t seen him so happy for days.

  “Not ‘Sorrow’ Angel,” I said. “Let’s find another name.”

  Why would anyone call their home Sorrow?

  “It’s my family’s name, darling,” he said. “I can’t do anything about that. We will prove to the world that a name doesn’t make you evil.”

  “The Kingdom of Sorrow it is,” Lady Shallot said. “Could you hand me a new ball of thread from the basket behind you?” She pointed at it, and Angel turned to pick up one. “No, not the green one. Pick up a red one.”

  Angel picked up a red ball, but then dropped it immediately as some threads turned into thin snakes.

  “Don’t worry, it happens,” she said. “Some threads are like apples with worms in them. Those are the bad worlds. Go ahead and retry your luck.”

  “I’d prefer if my wife picks one,” he said, looking back at me. His eyes were saying that he felt doomed, coming from the Sorrows. I was a Karnstein, a descendant of the noblest Austrian families, the first vampire hunters in the world.

  I was the one who picked up the thread that weaved our kingdom.

  As we watched Lady Shallot work the thread, I had too many questions on my mind; questions I knew she wasn’t going to answer. I wanted to know who she really was, why she used the red thread not the green, how it was possible to weave a world with thread, and if she had weaved the rest of the world.

  “Now, for the little uncomfortable part,” Lady Shallot said. “Both of you, stretch out your hands.”

  We did, almost hypnotically.

  Lady Shallot used her needle to prick both our thumbs, drawing a little blood from each. She made our thumbs touch until our blood mixed, and put the drops of blood on her needle.

  Before she could complete her process, Angel couldn’t help controlling his desire for my blood. His fangs drew out.

  “Hold your darkness, young man,” Lady Shallot said. “Or it will forever be woven to your kingdom.”

  Angel did with moistened eyes. I patted him. I had never seen anyone feel so guilty about his own darkness.

  Lady Shallot used the bloodstained needle with the red ball of thread, and started sewing the Kingdom of Sorrow.

  It took her another six days.

  Angel and
I ate from the apples and drank the juice Lady Shallot offered us—she only drank and never ate.

  We watched her each day, weave creatively, and accurately, our new world. We watched her sew the Black Forest, the swamps and rivers, the hills, and every curve in the land. Angel asked her to weave an imitation of the Schloss, a famous castle in his hometown Lohr, as an epitaph.

  “I’m sorry I will not be able to weave that,” Lady Shallot said. “And don’t ask me why.”

  “But it’s a lovely castle. I want to gift it to my wife,” he explained.

  “Don’t worry,” Lady Shallot said. “The castle will be there, even though I won’t be weaving it. The Schloss is part of your existence, and it will follow you to your kingdom—and don’t ask me to explain.”

  Six days later, we saw our completed kingdom in the mirror: The Kingdom of Sorrow; sewn by the delicate threads of Lady Shallot, who didn’t only use the red thread, but added white and black, too.

  “I have to ask you about the colors you used to weave our kingdom,” Angel asked. I could see it in his eyes. He was wondering why she chose the colors he was most famous for.

  “It’s not like a red thread creates a red mountain in your kingdom or anything. As you can see, you have green mountains, yellowish barren lands, blue skies, and so on,” Lady Shallot said. “But to answer your question, the universe demands balance—or the probability of insinuating it. When I design a world, it has to have three colors. White is for all things good and pure,” she held the white ball of thread up. “Think of angels, snow, and a blank piece of paper that is ready to cherish a writer’s masterpiece and imagination. Basically think of a white swan for peace.”

  “And Black?” Angel asked eagerly.

  “Black is darkness. We all know that. Don’t we?” Lady Shallot didn’t seem comfortable talking about it. “Think of a black swan.”

  “And red?” I asked.

  “Red, oh, red.” Lady Shallot held the red thread in her hand, and stared at it as if it were a baby. “Red is the color of the blood that runs in our veins. We’re all books of blood. If the books are sliced open, we’ll bleed our real identities. Think of a black swan clashing into a white swan, red is the blood that is spilled; it’s the things in between.”

  “So?” Angel frowned, doing his best to control his fangs.

  “It makes us chose to be black or white, although we’re never just on one side. We’re a mixture of both,” Lady Shallot said. “Red is either your curse or your redemption. Did you know that angels are made from red threads, balanced with white wings and black hearts? But that’s another story.”

  It was another story indeed. Whatever Lady Shallot meant, we decided not to question her. Our new home in the mirror took our breath away.

  We looked at the Kingdom of Sorrow in the mirror. It was big and beautiful, lit by a purple haze. It wasn’t a natural light, as she hadn’t sewn the light yet. The purple was only a substitute, so we could see the kingdom.

  In addition, Lady Shallot made the golden apples dangling from the trees shimmer like candles to light the way. In the excluded areas, golden fireflies gathered and hung in the air, imitating the shape of lanterns, gold-lighting the kingdom.

  “The golden apples are special,” Lady Shallot said. “They will only light the way for the good-hearted.”

  I pressed on Angel’s hands tighter with a big serene smile on my face. Some married men and women get a new house for their wedding. We, on the other hand, were gifted with a kingdom, one that Night Sorrow couldn’t reach.

  “But where is our kingdom?” I wondered. “I can only see it in the mirror. How can I go there?”

  “Ah,” Lady Shallot clicked her fingers together. “I almost forgot. Hang tight.”

  The rock island shook all of a sudden, and the ocean’s tides outside rose as if something awfully big was rising from the abyss. I thought we were going to drown.

  “Don’t worry,” Lady Shallot said. “It’s just Moby Dick.

  “What?” Angel said, holding me tighter.

  “It’s a who,” Lady Shallot pointed at the window, and we followed her gaze, watching the waves crash against the tower.

  Angel held my hand and we went to watch from the window. That was when I understood what I was staring at. It was a huge whale, rising from beneath the surface of the ocean.

  “To protect your kingdom, I made it an island and placed it on the back of a whale that will forever swim in the ocean,” Lady Shallot shouted through the noise the whale made as it surfaced. It sounded like a giant baby crying on its first day in the world. “The Kingdom of Sorrow is an island that resides on the back of a whale. His name is Moby Dick. Long ago, he had Atlantis on his back.”

  “The Atlantis?” Angel looked back at her.

  Lady Shallot nodded. “The world is full of mystery, isn’t it? Once upon a time this whale drowned Atlantis back into the abyss. A story I don’t like to talk about much. I hope you will take good care of Sorrow, so that this won’t happen to it.”

  I felt the burden of the kingdom on my shoulders already. We had a home that could sink back into the ocean once we messed with it.

  “Your new home will keep you safe from the darkness you’re running from. It’s the only way. And it’s much better than having your kingdom located on land. Night Sorrow shouldn’t be able to find you there,” Lady Shallot said.

  Angel and I almost cried, seeing our new kingdom in front of our eyes. Finally, we were rewarded greatly. The sacrifices we'd made weren’t in vain.

  “But am I going to live alone with my wife on this island?” Angel asked as the ocean calmed, and we sat back next to her.

  “Don’t be silly, Angel,” Lady Shallot said. “I didn’t work for six days to have another Adam and Eve messing the world up. No, you will not be alone. I will send you seven families as a start, and then others will follow so your kingdom grows.”

  “Seven families?” I wondered.

  “Since you’re more like fugitives escaping the evil in this world and hoping to start a new life, I will send you others like you who have been running from a great evil for centuries.”

  “Another great evil? Other than my father?” Angel said.

  “Yes, indeed. The other evil is called the Piper,” Lady Shallot said. “It’s an old and exhaustingly long story about the town of Hamlin that had been terrorized by a vicious man who plays the flute to lull the children away. Only seven families managed to escape him, now scattered around the world, century after century, escaping the wrath of the Piper. They had sons, and their sons had their grandsons and granddaughters, and so on. The descendants of the seven Hamlin families are called the Children of Hamlin. You will accommodate them to be Sorrow’s first locals, and let them start a new life with you.”

  “What are their names?” I asked.

  “I won’t tell you who they are, to protect their identities. I don’t want you to treat families differently from others based on their importance to you,” Lady Shallot said. “I’m sending them to you among many other families that I have chosen. They do need to stay anonymous, and they need protection from evil, just like you. Now, congratulations on your knew kingdom. Take good care of it.”

  Later, Lady Shallot showed us secret ways to reach our kingdom through the ocean, secret types of trains that moved on rails floating on water with secret routes that I shall not mention here for obvious reasons.

  Lady Shallot also said that she’d not be around, but if we ever needed her again, we should swim into the ocean with the intention of finding her.

  … Days passed and we lived in the kingdom, hoping for a happy ever after …

  It is impossible to tell you every detail of the events which followed in such a short diary. Thus, I will only mention certain incidents leading to the reveal of one of my darkest secrets.

  Although we never knew who the Children of Hamlin were, we treated everyone equally, encouraged them and helped them create bigger families, work hard, and feel at h
ome.

  I tried my best to befriend everyone, while welcoming new families sent by Lady Shallot. The number of new residents increased day by day. But in spite of the lovely world we created, Angel was still worried his father would find us.

  “Relax, Angel,” I would say, watching him spend the days teaching young men how to fight vampires, instead of enjoying being a king. “Lady Shallot has woven the most beautiful kingdom for us. We should enjoy it.”

  “She has weaved us a kingdom, but I doubt her threads could weave our fates,” Angel answered, leaving the castle to train the young warriors.

  Although I hated him sometimes for leaving me, I knew he was right. In my short life, I had learned that happiness and peace were beautiful, but temporary. Nothing in this world, however hard we fight for it, lasts. And it’s usually not because we messed up, but because like Lady Shallot had said, the universe, in its most mysterious ways, demands balance. And someone’s balance is always someone else’s imbalance.

  Eventually, we lost our balance in the Kingdom of Sorrow.

  One day, we woke up and found a man dead. He was murdered. He wasn’t bitten. It didn’t make a difference. If evil from the outside hadn’t pounded the kingdom’s gates yet, then it had seeped through the pores of people’s hearts.

  After investigating the murders, we learned that people complained about the light in the kingdom. It was true they had the glittering apples and fireflies, but they said they weren’t enough to light a man’s destiny at night when the creatures came out—and it was apparent we had some of those by now.

  “We need to talk to Lady Shallot,” I said to Angel.

  “About what?”

  “The light,” I said. “Remember when she said the kingdom she was sewing needed a sun and a moon? We need a sun to light up the roads, or the darkness in this kingdom will arise.”

  “I agree,” Angel sighed, and left the castle.

  What happened to Angel after that remained a mystery to me. I only knew bits and pieces of the story. I knew that he dove into the ocean’s waters, and swam to find Lady Shallot’s rocky island again. I didn’t know what happened after he found her, although I should’ve guessed when he returned to the castle with a baby in his arms seven days later.