03 | OFF TO AURADON

On the shadow-cloaked Isle of the Lost, Mal, a tempest in her own right, was defacing a decrepit city wall with fervor. Her vibrant purple hair cascaded down her shoulders, contrasting starkly with the dark leather jacket adorned with an emblematic twin dragon decal. The heavy boots she wore seemed to stomp out a rhythm of defiance as she worked.

Her latest masterpiece? A mural emblazoned with the words "LONG LIVE EVIL" in a bilious green that seemed to pulse with wickedness. Mal, placing the spray can back into her holster with a satisfied smirk, stepped back to admire her handiwork. It was more than graffiti; it was a declaration. With a swish of her jacket, she melded into the bustling marketplace, her presence dissolving into the throng of tired, hopeful faces.

High above, perched like a watchful raven on the edge of an aged rooftop, Jay, the notorious son of Jafar, kept his eyes on Mal until she disappeared into the sea of the downtrodden. His long, dark hair fluttered in the brisk wind, and his muscular arms, barely contained by the straps of his leather vest, crossed with an air of casual power. A sly grin played across his lips, and a spark of mischief danced in his eyes.

In a series of swift, almost serpentine movements, Jay descended from his lofty perch, his boots hitting the ground with the soft thud of inevitability. Those who whispered his name did so with a mixture of fear and admiration—for Jay was nothing if not dangerously charismatic, a rogue sculpted by the ruthless tales of his father.

Evie, resplendent in her signature blue, adorned with a necklace that boasted a crimson gem crowned with gold, effortlessly held the gaze of all around her as she strutted atop a table where ragged urchins nibbled at their meager meals. Her dark waves and mesmerizing eyes, framed by a heavy cascade of makeup—a lesson in vanity taught by her mother, the Evil Queen—sparkled even under the dim marketplace lights. Clutching her red, box-shaped purse, she flashed a dazzling smile, but her attention shifted quickly when she realized Jay had vanished into the bustling street below.

Meanwhile, Carlos, the lean and wiry son of Cruella De Vil, made a less graceful entrance, tumbling out of a window with his striking white hair, streaked with black roots, catching the light. Clad in a chaotic mix of red, white, and black leather that mirrored his mother's infamous aesthetic, he sauntered through the bazaar. His quick fingers snatched a handkerchief here, an apple there—earning him scowls and whispered curses from the villagers who viewed him as nothing more than a charming rogue.

The scene shifted as Evie and Mal, emerging from a shadowed alley, rejoined the fray of the marketplace where Carlos hurried to their side just as Jay descended from above, his every move exuding a cool danger. Together, the four friends—the very embodiment of mischief and malice—pushed through the throng, their path marked by chaos: Mal vandalizing with her signature spray paint, Jay pilfering trinkets, Evie weaving spells of flirtation, and Carlos causing uproar with his mischievous antics.

Their presence commanded both fear and a begrudging respect from the gathered crowd of hawkers and scoundrels. As they emerged onto the grimy main street, their notorious reputations preceded them, solidifying their status as the heirs of villainy.

Their antics peaked when Mal, with a devilish grin, snatched a lollipop from a wailing child, flaunting her trophy amidst the laughter of her compatriots—a perfect portrait of inherited evil.But their revelry was cut short by the ominous arrival of Maleficent, whose presence sent a ripple of fear through the marketplace. Her towering figure, clad in leather and crowned with iconic horns, commanded immediate attention as she approached her daughter with a mix of scorn and amusement at the petty theft.

"Stealing candy, Mal?" Maleficent chided, her disappointment thinly veiled by the pride gleaming in her eyes at Mal's trivial wickedness. Yet, in a show of one-upmanship only a true mistress of evil could execute, she took the lollipop, performed a disgustingly humorous defilement, and ordered it returned, teaching Mal a twisted lesson in the nuances of true malevolence.

Maleficent's parting words, a nostalgic reflection on her own youthful feats of villainy, left Mal both annoyed and inspired, her ambitions ignited by the challenge to rise from mean-spirited pranks to legendary acts of darkness.

"Walk with me," Maleficent's voice, as commanding as it was casual, drew Mal away from the shock of the moment. Her hand, cold yet reassuring, rested on Mal's shoulder, steering her forward through the murky dusk of their malevolent homeland. "See, I'm just trying to teach you the thing that really counts: how to be me."

Mal, ever the reluctant apprentice to her mother's grand designs, nodded. The path to villainy was never straight, and if Maleficent saw Auradon Prep as part of that journey, who was Mal to argue? "I know that," she replied, her voice a mixture of determination and doubt. "And I'll do better."

As they walked, Maleficent, with a dramatic flair that only she could muster, spun around to face her daughter, her eyes alight with mischief. "Oh! There's news," she exclaimed, almost theatrically. "I buried the lede!" She pointed accusingly at Mal and her captured friends, delivering the bombshell. "You four have been chosen to go to a different school. In Auradon."

The ensuing chaos was almost comical. Evie, Jay, and Carlos, in a primal fight-or-flight response, scrambled for freedom, only to be corralled by Maleficent's loyal henchmen. Mal herself was a portrait of disbelief, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

"What?" she gasped, the word barely a whisper. "Mom, you have to be joking."

"Nope!" Maleficent's reply was brisk, almost gleeful. "You'll be joining the bastion of privilege and exclusivity of... Auradon Prep." She spat out the school's name as if it were poison, her face contorting with distaste.

"Mom! I'm not going to some boarding school filled to the brim with prissy pink princesses!" Mal protested, her voice rising in defiance.

"And perfect princes!" Evie interjected dreamily, momentarily caught up in the fantasy, only to be silenced by Mal's glare. She quickly adopted a look of disgust to match her friend's mood. "Ugh!"

Jay, ever the rebel, chimed in, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't do uniforms," he declared. "Unless it's leather. You feelin' me?" His attempt at camaraderie fell flat as Carlos, clearly more troubled by the prospect, edged closer to Maleficent.

"I read somewhere that they allow dogs in Auradon," Carlos ventured hesitantly, his earlier bravado evaporating. "Mom said they're rabid pack animals who eat boys who don't behave." His gulp was audible, his fear palpable.

Jay couldn't resist the opportunity for a jest, sneaking up to bark in Carlos's ear, sending him leaping back with a start. Laughter erupted, breaking the tension momentarily.

"Yeah, Mom, we're not going," Mal stated, her tone final. "You are not going to start seeing me doing curtsies and book reports."

"You're thinking small, punkin'," Maleficent retorted, her voice a blend of amusement and scorn. "It's all about world domination!" A wicked grin spread across her face as she turned to her henchmen, barking orders before sweeping down the street, her cloak billowing behind her like a dark cloud. "Mal!" she called back, her tone both a command and an invitation.

With a shared look of resignation and curiosity, Mal and her friends trailed after Maleficent. Whatever awaited them in Auradon, it was clear they would face it together, under the shadow of their formidable matriarch's grand ambitions.