Centuries of wandering in a world rich with suffering and pain was always enough to lead someone into a certain confidence they could never reach otherwise. Dark things could still sprout the light.

Except dark things was her friend, Demona. There was no other life in her mind that could charm her more than one of the familiar ravens and bones. Taste the victory and never go back.

Find yourself there, and feel the wickedness that is her home, binding and ensnaring even the brightest of them all.

Only, perhaps if Demona were to admit it, there were certain places that maybe weren’t so corrupt in South Buckle. Places people of the goodness still craved so much. She supposed the pleasant murkiness of the scene she created wasn’t enough for them. But they would see it in time.

Curiosity was a strange thing. It could lead you to a wonderful discovery or it could lead you to something dangerous. Demona delighted at the mere thought. But what did today have in store for her? A forest. A forest so green and so sunny that she was sure she would go blind.

Could a sun have its own enemies?

Down, down, and down again she went; each step took her closer to an edge of wonder, or of fright. The pulse that pounded in her chest may indeed be a forgery, a replica of what was once truly there. But it did not stop her from laughing at the way the fear burned through her chest like a sword digging through her skin. It did not stop her from feeling what they all call emotion.

But what was that in the distance? Perhaps just a lowly hunk of stone? Perhaps an underground home, perhaps a curse. Each step that took Demona closer revealed a new detail that showed that it was neither a lowly hunk of stone, nor an underground house, nor a curse.

A well, perfectly mossy and perfectly senior. The stone bricks were molded into a pristine sphere, and of course, tired and overused rope held the rotting bucket down below.

No more water lay at the bottom, the well’s purpose was long gone. Whoever used this well was probably deceased by the time Demona found it.

And still, curiosity seared through her veins and her pale, slender fingers found their ways around the old rope and pulled.

What would one expect to find in an ancient well when they pulled the bucket up? Coins from idiotic wishers wishing no one but the suns to fix their problems? A dead carcass? Perhaps nothing but moss?

What was found instead was a book. A leather cover with many pages and an imbedded blue jewel in the front.

Demona giggled. What a find! What a life! Did this qualify as a past-time? Did this make her more normal than she already was, which was not at all? Nothing could stand in the way of her limitless entertainment of this amusing discovery.

After feeling the coarse and worn cover around, at last, the book was opened. After expecting to find some lover’s journal or a mad inventor’s hidden secrets, what did await her made her skin crawl and her blood boil. For the words scribbled inside the paper was less than ideal. Inside was a long forgotten memory Demona was desperate to shut away and leave in the past.

No. She sold her soul and her true heart to the suns for this power of the never ending youth. She changed her fate and waited centuries until the people she knew departed this world.

And the language, or she thought.

For what was written inside the book was a long dead language of which she’d been sure she would never set eyes on again. It was a reminder of the world of suffering and pain she was so disturbingly familiar with. A world she would have liked to hide away forever.

She made the world better. She made it what it needed to be. A mere book from a well in South Buckle couldn’t change all the work she put in for this new world.

Shaky and afraid, Demona turned the pages more and more until at last she reached the last page with writing inside. As she read, anger threatened to nearly kill her and she nearly fainted in fear.

“She has gone too far. We know this. And so, as hard as it is for me, I must reverse the curse put upon her.”

Demona began to panic. She continued reading.

“By the evening of Sunset Gray,

The binds of the suns cannot stay

For the moons will wake, and make her whole

To save her soul, that is the goal

To any who reads this reverse

A deal with the suns, you are no longer cursed.”

Demona began to weep. She could feel her true age show on her skin and suddenly the false heart in her chest quit beating. It felt like the air had been sucked out of her body and she was no longer young.

At last, the old hag lay on the soft blanket of grass below her and could do nothing other than to look up at the sky. What was once a murky and beautiful sky of dreadful clouds was now chased away by the suns and replaced with a horridly blue color.

A single tear dropped from her eye before the life escaped her eyes and she swallowed her last breath. Cheers in the distance told her everything.

It was a plan. It was a trick. The awfully good citizens of her empire led her here to die in the old body she truly had.

Such a humiliation.