Minutes that stretched into millennia passed while Theresa sat tied to the chair trying fruitlessly to loosen her bonds. Tears she could not wipe kept streaming down her face.

Her head hurt and her heart hurt. She worried. Her extremities felt numb.

A sound like lightening hitting the castle and the resounding boom of thunder made Theresa jump.

She heard her own voice scream somewhere beyond the room where she was trapped.

The door flew open.

"Lady Theresa," Wildwood said as he rushed inside.

She was not sure how he did it, but the ropes holding her in place loosened, and she could move. Her hands and feet stung with the renewed blood flow.

"I thought you didn't know it was me," she said as she grabbed onto him with numb fingers.

"A warlock may not have, but I am a wizard. My apologies if my trickery distressed you." A confident half smile ran across his face.

She tried to smile back as she let him support her shaking form with his strength. "How did you know?"

Wildwood smiled wryly. "Well, she had dampened all traces of magic, but knocking out your aunt and tying her to a chair doesn't strike me as what you would do. Knocking her out, certainly, but I imagine you would have gone for help afterwards."

Theresa nodded at his words.

"But mostly, you have an unfortunate habit of not using proper titles when you're upset or angry or excited. Or most of the time really..."

Well, he was not wrong.

Theresa smiled shakily as he nearly carried her along with him. She could see Francine, still with the magic appearance of Theresa, lying beside a parapet in an awkward position.

"Come, we must hurry. She is only stunned. We must get to the king and let him finish this."

"Yes."

"After this night Francine will never get her hands on you again," he promised.

"Yes." She believed him.

Wildwood lurched forward and she stumbled with the loss of his support.

"Wildwood?" she asked in confusion.

He swore and he staggered a moment. His expression was strained, shocked. His face paled.

Theresa turned around in confusion and saw the scarred man standing behind Wildwood.

Theresa stared at the scene before her as if suspended in time. With growing horror she saw as he pulled a cruel knife out of Wildwood's back. Wildwood slid to the ground.

Wildwood looked up at her and she felt desperate. "Run," he told her in a raspy voice.

He wanted her to just leave him?

She wondered how she had any tears left after all the grief and suffering of her life, but she discovered that there were an infinite number left for Wildwood.

Blood was pooling around him already. She had to stop the bleeding somehow, but did not know what to do.

She knelt beside him uncaring that his blood was soaking into her dress. She did not want him to die. She did not want to live in a world where he did not exist. She loved everything about him.

Her aunt's dog stood by, with a satisfied smile on his mutilated face.

Theresa slowly rose and she stared at him. "You! You killed him! You killed Wildwood! You'll hang for this!" Theresa did not care that he had a knife; she would kill him with her own bare hands. She would scratch the other eye out of its socket with her human nails until they matched perfectly.

He held the knife in front of him and he grinned at her. "Hurts, doesn't it? Probably almost as much as my eye!"

From the side of her vision, Theresa saw Francine stirring. She did not care. Francine could kill her.

She should have told Wildwood that she loved him while she had the chance. It was too late now. She should have realized sooner and let him know no matter what.

"Come on, my lady," he said sarcastically. "How many more lives will you ruin before you're finished?" he taunted, pointing with the knife towards Wildwood's body.

"Yours, for one!" she hissed with all the broken rage that filled her. She knew it was a lie. He was far stronger than she and he could snap her like a twig.

But there was no hope for Wildwood and she did not care what happened to her. She did not really want to live with the grief that was flowing through her. It hurt so much that she just wanted to scream forever.

She stalked closer. The scarred man must have seen her unthinking insane grief on her face, because even though he was the one who held the cruel bloody knife, even though he was the one with the advantage of pure brute force, he backed up a step away from her and put her out of his range.

Theresa smiled but it was a terrible smile devoid of any joy or happiness. There was no satisfaction. She was cold and empty.

Her smile was of the dead. She had seen it in her nightmares and now she felt it on her face.

He held the knife as if it was the only thing holding him to life. It glowed red in the light of the torches. Red with Wildwood's blood.

How she wished she had power to match her desire for vengeance.

"You're a coward!" she hissed.

Her aunt's man shuffled on his feet nervously and lunged towards her with the knife.

She understood there was not time for her to move and she could hardly overpower him even if she did.

It hardly mattered to her any longer. If she died, Daphne would inherit her lands and now married to Thomas they would be out of Francine's control. The king could still take steps to protect her sister.

She felt nothing but a cold resignation as she waited for the feel of cold metal entering her flesh.

Instead, the man's body shuddered and he stumbled forward. Theresa instinctively jumped back. He fell to his knees and then on his face on the cold stone with an anguished groan.

The knife clattered to the ground beside him.

Theresa just stood there in confusion for a long moment before she finally picked up the knife. It was sharp and jagged and she hoped that Wildwood had not felt it when it had gone into his back.

There were two arrows protruding from the fallen man's back, one in the exact same place as the knife had entered Wildwood. He seemed to be at least unconscious, although she hoped he was dead and she hoped that it had hurt him dreadfully.

She glanced up and saw Daphne and Thomas standing there, both holding bows in their hands.

"Theresa?" Daphne breathed.

"Lord Wildwood?" Thomas asked in a stilted voice.

"Daphne, don't be fooled! That's not me! It's Francine! She tricked him!" Theresa heard her own voice say from behind her. Daphne's face registered confusion as she looked from one Theresa to the other.

"Francine! Stop pretending to be me!" she snapped as she whirled around and stared back at the woman who ultimately bore the blame for every death that had ever hurt her, every pain that she had ever felt. Francine stood against the low wall that surrounded the edge of the castle.

"Daphne, she's trying to trick you. She's pretending to be me, to take my place. You know what a good liar she is!"

"Francine! Your plans are ruined! Just give up!" Theresa said as she stalked towards Francine.

"You know that you're lying," Francine's silky voice slid over her slowly. Theresa felt the slow slide of coercive magic spreading through her mind.

"No! I will not allow you to control me ever again! Never!" Theresa said and her anger and frustration and grief welled up. The tingling burst like a tiny bubble and Theresa knew that she was safe from Francine's manipulations at least for now.

"Daphne! Shoot her! She's going to kill me!" screamed Francine with Theresa's voice.

"One part of that is true," Theresa snarled. She picked up the knife that was still slick with Wildwood's blood and prepared to stab the evil aunt who had stolen everything from her. Francine had stolen her safety, her freedom, and now her love.

She knew that she could kill the wizardress and Francine would take nothing from her ever again. She would not give her time to cast a spell upon Theresa. It took a moment too long and Francine's time had run out.

Francine pleaded with Daphne and Theresa was certain that she heard real fear in the wizardress' voice. "Daphne! You know that I'm not like that. You know that I would never kill anyone! Don't let Francine do this."

Buried in her own anger, Francine's words still touched her. What had Francine turned her into? Francine should never have pushed her to this point. Theresa stared into her aunt's eyes. "You're right," she agreed. "I am not like this. But I will see that you pay. The king will have you hung."

"Daphne!" cried Francine.

Theresa turned to look at Daphne. Daphne continued to look between the two identical women. Theresa was about to say something so that Daphne would know it was her, when she felt an unpleasant sensation that she recognized far too well. She watched as Francine grew taller before her and she lifted a paw to look at it.

The counter transformation spell had been lifted.

Wildwood's spells were gone.

Theresa knew with grim certainty that he would not have removed it from her willingly. She also knew from her reading that a wizard's spells did not outlive their casters.

Although his body was nearly close enough to touch, he was too far away from her to retain the spell upon her any longer.

Theresa knew with horrifying certainty that Wildwood was dead.

* * * * *

Theresa hung in a daze of pain and disorientation for a long moment, before she turned her attention back to her aunt.

Francine may not have killed him with her own hands but the fault was entirely hers.

Theresa would kill her.

Theresa felt the cat mind flood back into hers. She could smell blood. The indifferent scent of her aunt's man's blood and the far more significant scent of Wildwood's blood.

She could smell the creeping of the horrible fragrance of death. She looked over to Wildwood's form and she could clearly see him lying there in the darkness that her eyes pierced so well. She could not hear him breathing.

The cat in her understood.

She understood with grim finality that the human with whom she had become so comfortable and who she had decided was her own property, was dead.

She also understood that the human standing before it was somehow responsible for breaching what the cat considered its own.

The feelings were not exactly the same, but they blended into a harmonious accord. The anger and the grief were different, but had the same source. She did not even know where the human part of her ended and the cat began.

She did not think even as she hissed and her body sprang through the air and grasped onto Francine wherever her claws landed. She dug her claws into flesh and the human screamed as she tried to pull the cat from of her body.

The human tried to defend against her, but the movements were ridiculously sluggish compared to her quick reflexes.

She could smell Francine's blood and the metallic scent was most satisfying.

Francine grasped Theresa by her fur, but Theresa ignored the pain and continued to rip at any part of Francine that she could reach. She slashed and clung and without really understanding what had happened.

She felt as if she was weightless.

Theresa tumbled into the deep darkness below the parapets of the castle.