Breathing was impossible. Selvina's head pounded as fiercely as her heart. Sweat beaded all over her body. Vision blurred and staying upright became difficult. Selvina could do nothing but stare, mouth agape, at the reason she was in the dungeon, in the empress's castle, in a foreign world where stories were real. It wasn't until Tinkerbelle poked her backside with her nail sword that Selvina finally started to breathe again.

Selvina blinked and stared at Amalthea. There were so many questions to ask that she couldn't decide which to ask first. Most, if not nearly all, followed a distinct pattern and could all be answered by speaking a single word. Selvina opened her mouth to speak it but stopped herself.

Amalthea looked unbearably weary and on the brink of death. There would be no answers if she died then and there. Selvina eyed Tinkerbelle, who nodded in understanding, and then knelt before Amalthea and held her gaze, hoping she'd stay awake—and alive—long enough.

The fairy, meanwhile, assaulted the shackles on Amalthea's wrists. It took some time but eventually one of them snapped open, the prisoner's arm dropping limply without the support. Soon later the same thing happened to the other shackle and arm and Amalthea fell forward. Selvina held her in her arms, alarmed at the woman's cold body, and began rubbing her arms. Tinkerbelle helped by standing on Amalthea's head and buzzing her wings as quickly as possible in an attempt to create a bit of heat.

"Thank you," Amalthea breathed after several tense minutes had passed. "I need sunlight... I need the sky..."

Selvina's tongue twitched impatiently, struggling in torment to hold back the questions. She desperately needed answers. Here was the one person that could give her some and she wanted to go outside? Now, with the whole castle probably searching for Selvina? Of all times!

"I waited to see you," Amalthea said with great effort. "Before I let go. I needed to see you..."

"You're not going anywhere," Selvina said perhaps too loudly. "I mean that. You'll make it through this, Amalthea."

"Are you sure about this?" Tinkerbelle asked with worry. "What if we're caught?"

"Faeryum needs me alive, Tink," Selvina said with a frown. "Rhiannon knows that, no matter how upset she might be right now. She can't stop me." With that, Selvina slipped her arms under Amalthea's legs and back and lifted her up. She was shockingly light and Selvina knew for a fact it wasn't on the chance that she somehow gained strength in her arms. Amalthea was on the edge of death. She needed saving and now.

With purpose and determination, Selvina walked toward the other end of the tiny prison. Tinkerbelle, nail sword in hand, lit and led the way. They retraced their steps and after long minutes of traversing the halls and ascending stairs, they were back at the hall within the castle, looking through the unguarded opening.

Selvina didn't stop. She walked on, her brows furrowed in resolve, and entered the castle halls. Servants and patrolling guards passed her by, glancing her way in shock, worry, and curiosity, but not stopping her in any way. Selvina found it strange that not a single question was asked, not even about the dying, white-haired woman in her arms. Tinkerbelle at that time was hiding in her hair but she doubted anyone would have said anything about her either. There was almost a cruel indifference to the situation, as if no one cared about Amalthea's condition.

"It's Rhiannon," Amalthea whispered, her eyes closed and her voice weak. "Her instructions must have been clear as to not stop you in any way."

Not wishing to lose her chance, Selvina hurried onward. Though Amalthea was light she was not weightless and her arms were beginning to weaken. Rhiannon could turn a corner at any moment and it prodded her onward, forcing her to ignore the discomfort in her arms. Sweat returned to her body and her breathing intensified.

A lift revealed itself and Selvina sighed in relief at the wonderful sight. She rushed inside, pushing out two men and a woman elf who were in it first, and, after gently depositing Amalthea on the floor, swiftly pulled on the lever to take her to the second-highest floor. Once there she picked up Amalthea once more and ran the rest of the way to her room.

Finally, she was in and Selvina raced across the room to the balcony and sat Amalthea in one of the chairs, the sunlight shining on her face. She sat in the one next to her, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from her brow. Tinkerbelle flew out of her hair and buzzed about, keeping watch.

Amalthea smiled, relishing the sunlight on her skin, and took in a deep breath. Selvina ran back inside her room, grabbed a pitcher of water from the main room's table, and then went outside, offering it to the weak woman. She took a few sips but then put it down before closing her eyes and basking in the sun. Selvina, meanwhile, waited and tried not to glance into her room at the door across the way. Rhiannon could yet arrive.

"You misunderstand Empress Rhiannon's intent," Amalthea said after a few minutes. She was still skull-faced and bone-thin but there was some colour on her pale skin and life in her eyes. "She does not wish me dead, Selvina."

"She had you imprisoned with no food or water," Selvina said, glancing at the door once more. "What else was she doing but giving you a slow death?"

"The truth is that I, as a unicorn, can survive for weeks without water or food, but that time is shortened greatly if I have no connection to the sky. Rhiannon knew this and would have brought me outside eventually."

"You don't know that for sure."

"I do, Selvina. She has done it before."

Selvina frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"I do not know. I did not have any sunrises to count, after all."

Selvina took in a deep breath. She glanced at the door another time and then, with another deep breath, looked Amalthea in the eye. "Why?"

Amalthea glanced downward for the briefest of moments but said nothing.

"Why?" Selvina repeated. "Why me? Why, out of the billions of people on my world and this one did you choose me? Why am I here, Amalthea? Why did you choose me to stop the Writer?"

To this Tinkerbelle stopped flying about and landed on the balustrade, standing in place and listening intently.

"There is only you, Selvina," Amalthea replied.

"Bullshit," Selvina spat back. "There's nothing special about me. I can't do magic like Cindy. I don't fight like Red and I can't sail like Jack. I don't transform into a big hulking creature like Belle either. I am no one here, Amalthea. I am nothing!"

Amathea, to Selvina's surprise, smiled lightly. "You are ever so wrong, Selvina. You are the only one capable of stopping the Writer, which most certainly makes you special and absolutely something."

"No, not stop him, kill him, right?"

"That could, indeed, prove to be an effective method of stopping him."

"I can't do that! I'm not a killer like that!"

"You need not be."

"Then how else do I stop the Writer? Please, tell me, Amalthea, because I am lost. I have been lost ever since I came here. I have come to love this world and its people, or at least most of them, but I still have no idea how I am going to stop the Writer.

"Oh! And let's not forget about his pet Black Knight! How the hell do I stop him?!"

"Stop the Writer, and the knight will follow."

"Well there we go, it all goes back to the Writer. So tell me how!"

Amalthea closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. After the lengthy exhale, she said, "The Writer has in his possession a copy of everyone's Life Stories. Every sentient being that was born in Faeryum has one and the Writer can read them all whenever he wishes. He can also alter them if he desires, though not without a great deal of pain.

"You, however, are not of this world. He can't read your Life Story because you do not have one here. You are the one that never was. This gives you a distinct advantage that no other being in Faeryum possesses."

"But why me? You could have picked anyone else from my world. You could have picked a soldier or an assassin or hitman or something. I'm not a killer, Amalthea!"

"I did not bring you here to kill, Selvina. You still believe that I chose wrongly. You still claim that you are the one that could not be, that one that cannot be. I know that you are the right one. I do not think that you may come to realize this, I know that you will. It will dawn on you soon, Selvina, that this is your destiny."

"No, it won't... I can't believe it. It makes no sense. Is it because my mom read fairy tales to me when I was young? I know that my mom isn't the only one that does that in my world! It can't be because I'm an actress because there are way better ones than me out there!"

"Has anyone ever told you that you seem to bring those tales to life when you act them out?" Amalthea asked.

Selvina furrowed her brows and said quietly, "Yes, why?"

"Our two worlds are connected, Selvina. What are tales, legends, myths, or simply folklore on your world are the realities of this world. That is not coincidence. Our two worlds have always had a connection and some people can feel it. The storytellers of your world, the ones whose tales are real here, have felt that connection. They may not have known this, but they saw Faeryum as they told their tales. What they assumed was only imagination was actually a vision of another world, an actual world—this world."

Selvina frowned and shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. Cinderella is a story that's like a hundred years old or something and Cinderella here is only fourteen. Same thing goes for Red Riding Hood or Beauty and the Beast and especially King Arthur, whose legend is like, over a thousand years old on my world. If people on my world had glimpses of Faeryum when they wrote their stories how come the times don't match up?"

"They saw visions of a time in Faeryum, one that perhaps was, is, or did not yet come to pass," replied Amalthea. "A story that is centuries old in your world may only be beginning here in Faeryum, or has not even started yet. The connections between our worlds do not follow the rules of time."

Selvina gave it some thought, finding it all rather confusing, and then asked, "Wait, if that's the case, then does that mean that I might become a story on my world one day?"

Amalthea smiled and nodded once. "It does indeed, Selvina."

"But...how? How can I become a story when I'm interacting with so many characters that don't ever meet together? Like, King Arthur was already a legend by the time the story of Peter Pan and Captain Hook was created and in Faeryum they live together at the same time."

"Your world gets brief visions, Selvina, not entire stories. The man or woman who will write your story may only get a glimpse of your face or a flash of a scene and from there they will write their tale. It may tell exactly how events transpired here, or it may not."

A light blinked on in Selvina's head. "So that's why the stories here are so different! Whoever wrote Red Riding Hood must have only seen how she looked, a huge wolf, an old lady, and put pieces together in the story that I know, even though that's not how it went here. Quasimodo's story was pretty similar, except for Esmerelda dying so soon, but man did whoever write Peter Pan get his story wrong."

"It is also possible your storytellers may have taken certain liberties with their tales," said Amalthea. "They believed it was all their imagination, after all. They were not writing histories but simply stories, at least in their minds."

Selvina nodded, making some sense of it all. "Does that mean that all the stories in my world come from actual people or events from here in Faeryum?"

"I cannot say for certain, but it is possible. Faeryum, after all, is only a small part of this world."

"Wait, what?"

"There is much more to this world than Faeryum, Selvina. Think of Faeryum as a single region in a far larger world."

"Really? But all the maps I've seen..."

"Are of Faeryum, yes, but keep going in any direction and the world will continue."

"But like, so many stories come from this region alone. How much bigger can this world be?"

"I have only lived in a small portion of it, and cannot answer you that question. I can say honestly, however, that it is massive."

"Why does nobody talk about it? Everything seems to be happening in Faeryum and nowhere else."

"What happens elsewhere is of little concern to most people but most likely because of simple geography. Heading west brings you to lands full of territorial dragons. If you turn south it brings you to violent seas or a fiery desert. Journey east and you encounter an impassable ocean and going north, well, brings you to lands of neverending ice and snow."

"I guess so... Hey, wait, if the Writer has all the Life Stories of everyone in Faeryum, does that mean he has the Life Stories of this world's other regions too or is there more than one Writer?"

"I have often wondered the same thing, Selvina, and, unfortunately, I do not know. Also, to note, this entire world, at least in Faeryum, is called Emazh."

Selvina sniffed. "Emazh? I liked Faeryum better..."

Amalthea chuckled and it made Selvina smile. "I think so too."

Selvina glanced through the window and across her room to its door but it was closed, as it had been the whole time. She glanced at the sprawling city below her and then back to Amalthea. "All of this information is fascinating and all, but you still didn't tell me how I can do anything about the Writer."

Amalthea nodded. "I personally fought him, as you must already know, and failed in stopping him forever. The rest of my unicorn kin gave their lives in the attempt. Rhiannon was there, along with Oz—"

"Oh, crap, Oz! I totally forgot about him!" blurted Selvina.

Amalthea blinked, and Selvina flushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry..."

"Anyhow," continued Amalthea, "we did all we could and only managed to weaken him into a hibernation of several centuries. There are no unicorns to fight him again this time. There is only me and Rhiannon as I have no knowledge of Oz's whereabouts. This time, however, we have you, Selvina."

"Has there been someone like me before?"

"Never."

"Well, like, what happened all the other times the Writer endangered Faeryum, or Emazh, or whatever?"

"He did it only once before, the time I fought him. The Writer is chosen by the gods to record and monitor the lives of all beings in Faeryum. His duty is to record and safekeep, never to engage or alter. Something happened five hundred years ago where he decided to change that. No one knows why he did what he did but war was everywhere and blood rained from the sky. Peace returned, eventually, but the world took centuries to recover.

"He is more patient this time, I believe, but that only makes him more dangerous. If he is patient then he has a plan and I dread to think of what it is. I pressured Rhiannon to engage him now but she would not have it. She, herself, has her own plans and she did not wish to ruin them by fighting the Writer. I urged her to reconsider but she would not comply and imprisoned me here so that I could not find you and jeopardize her plans. Until she was ready, I was to remain here.

"As for the Writer, he has the ability to alter everyone's lives here in Faeryum, and thus influence what they do. If he discovers your presence here he will send his Black Knight to stop you for he knows that you can stop him. He fears you, Selvina, and that alone is already a weapon we can use against him."

"Well, I wish I looked scarier," Selvina mumbled. "I don't think scaring him is going to stop him for too long..."

"He should see you when you wake up," muttered Tinkerbelle with a giggle.

Selvina rolled her eyes. "Okay, Jack! Thanks for your input!"

"Stopping the Writer is not as simple as killing him," Amalthea said, returning to the matter of discussion. "It is why the gods have sent you, Selvina. If killing him was the solution they would have disposed of him already. The Writer threatens not only us but the gods themselves, and, in desperation, they bring you here to remedy the situation."

"Yeah," Selvina said flatly, "King Arthur told me all I needed to know about how the gods chose me and put all this pressure on me. I still have no idea what I have to do!"

"The Writer is the darkness of this world, Selvina, and you are the light."

Selvina sighed. "Because that explains everything..."

"Have any stories of your world affected the outcome of nations?"

"Huh?"

"Has any one story impacted the way a nation rules or controls its people?"

Selvina gave it some thought. After a few moments she shrugged. "I guess if you want to call religion a bunch of stories then yeah, the Bible sure as heck changed the world. I guess the Quran too, and those other religion books. Most of the stories of my world become movies now."

"Are there characters of stories known throughout your world?"

"Of course. I mentioned Cinderella, Red, Belle, Hook, and Pan already but even Jack's story is well known and other ones like Quasimodo's, King Arthur, Robin Hood's, Rapunzel's, and nowadays the Ice Queen's. I'm pretty sure most people around the world know about those ones."

"You are this world's story now, Selvina. Your story will be known throughout Faeryum and perhaps even Emazh once you defeat the Writer, for you will defeat him. The gods would not have sent you if they thought you couldn't."

"Amalthea, that's great and all, but like, stop not telling me what I have to do! HOW DO I STOP THE WRITER?"

Amalthea sighed slowly. She eyed the ground for a moment and then met Selvina's eye. "In order to defeat the Writer, you must—"

A throat was cleared and all heads turned to the room's door.

Where Rhiannon stood watching them.