—Chapter 12

The thick fog that had swallowed us whole only moments ago simply melted away like a curtain that covered a great tunnel. I had to pinch myself to realize I wasn't dreaming. Night turned into breaking dawn, and the temperature shifted from a near frigid 40 degrees to a balmy 90 degrees in the blink of an eye. But that's not what left me momentarily unable to speak with my mouth hanging wide open as I stared at the scene before me in astonishment. Floating like a mirage on the horizon stood a medieval stone structure built upon a 400 foot cliff that stood guard over the panoramic forest below. On second thought, scratch that. Forest wasn't even close to the right word.

Besides, forests are green.

No. This place simply defied logic. It was like a paradise of pure imagination. A magnificent creation where fantasy and dreams collided to defy explanation. If possible, a place that was even more wondrous than Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory where instead of making candy, this place was like candy for the eyes.  In fact, every plant, every flower, hell even the dark mass of trees turned purplish by the contrast of the rosy sky above looked good enough to eat. It was almost as if a rainbow made out of pastel colored Skittles had thrown up on...well, pretty much everything.

Forever sealed off and made invisible to the outside world, the idyllic, 19th-century style castle with its cream and gold color scheme, tall pointy turrets, fairy tale-esque architecture, and soaring spires that rose magnificently above the island was quite possibly the most breathtaking structure I'd ever seen. It looked like something straight out of a Disney movie. 

My breath held in a gasp. "Holy turrets, Batman. Now, that's a castle!"

The only access appeared to be via yet another bridge. Thankfully this one was much, much shorter and featured a working drawbridge that hung suspended over a purplish-pink moat, completely surrounding the castle walls on all four sides. Thomas, Vycandor and I waited in silence as some unforeseen force lowered the drawbridge, cranking it slowly open one gear turn at a time. We'd barley crossed the bridge, our footsteps echoing loudly on the worn wooden planks anchored together with thick iron bars, when the drawbridge slowly began to rise one ancient crank at a time, until it reached a perpendicular position and was latched back into place again, keeping it perfectly upright.

Once inside the picturesque grounds of the massive courtyard, hidden deep within the fortress walls like a delicate flower was the castle's magnificent gardens. Lush with many tropical trees and colorful vegetation, I watched as animals in every shape and size roamed freely about — some in their full animal form, some in half animal, half human form as if they couldn't make up their minds, and others in full human form — dressed in what appeared to be costumes from the early nineteenth century that incorporated a certain romantic sensibility with an ostentatious Victorian flair. The females wore colorful silk gowns with bustles and wide skirts, while the men wore wore tight-fitting waistcoats with vests and matching trousers. Everything about it was familiar, but then not at the same time. I had to rub my eyes just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. This place was like a Jane Austin novel and the Garden of Eden all rolled into one.

So weird. 

I nearly jumped out of my Reeboks when a male lion let out a deafening roar that made my teeth rattle like jellybeans in a jar, proving once and for all that you don't hear a lion when it roars as  much as you actually feel it with every fiber of your being. And, for me, there was nothing more enjoyable than the privilege of being next to a male lion and feeling its roar. As long as he didn't mistake me for his next meal, of course. The three of us continued to watch as five more male lions crept up to form a lose semi-circle around us. The potential of danger was both frightening and exhilarating. Thomas put his arms around me protectively, shielding me with his body as they all began bellowing in unison. The sound didn't just make my body shake even harder, I could actually feel my bones rattling in their joints. The effect left me both shivering and gob-smacked with awe.

"Do not fear," Vycandor said. "These beasts are my family." He walked up to the largest red lion with a magnificent mane and stood frozen before it as if waiting to be recognized. The giant cat stared back at him with fiery eyes. I held my breath with my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, not knowing what was about to happen next as a bead of sweat trickled down my spine. Movement out of the corner of one caught my attention. In stark contrast to all of the excitement, a nearby pride of female lions and their young offspring looked bored as they sunned themselves lying side by side in the nearby rose garden like Queens of the jungle.

Returning my attention to the group of male lions, family or not, I was pretty sure the only reason they hadn't attacked yet was because they were trying to figure out which of us to eat first. As the big cat continued to stare at Vycandor, it twitched its tail and flicked its whiskers.

That didn't look like recognition in my book.

I resisted the urge to run as the lion cocked its enormous head to one side, shook its tawny mane, then appeared to reach a decision.

"This ain't gonna be good," I whispered out loud to no one in particular. "Shouldn't we be exiting Fantasy Island right about now?"

"Stay right where you are," Vycandor hissed. "And whatever you do, do not move."

"Don't move, my ass!" I hissed right back. "I don't care if Simba here is part of your family. I'm not tryin' to get ate by the Lion King."

Then, as if on que, the beast threw back its giant head, opened its mouth full of razor sharp fangs, and yawned.

Vycandor laughed. "Quit trying to scare our visitors, Leo."

Leo the lion tipped his head forward and rubbed his face against Vycandor's thigh. The beast emitted a noise that at first I thought was a growl, but then realized was just a purr. Turning toward me, he looked at me with large eyes before sticking out his massive tongue and licking the back of my hand.

Movement on my right made me turn around as a mamma elephant passing by gave a trumpeting call to her calf that peeked out at us, one brown eye clearly visible in between the blades of tall grass. Sensing we were not a threat, I gave a little yip of surprise when a totally naked child no more than two or three years old at the very most jumped out and ran to catch up with its mother. In an effortless, blur of speed movement it was a short gray trunk that wrapped around its mamma's wiry tail instead of a tiny hand, as the baby elephant trotted off making little chortling sounds with its huge ears sticking straight out like Dumbo.

"Shape-shifting elephants?" I mused out loud to no one in particular. "Now I've seen everything." Or, at least, that's what I thought until I spied four majestic white swans and one giant black swan, gliding around gracefully in the sparkling blue waters of a beautiful fountain. "Okay, scratch that, now I've seen everything."

"Vycandor, my friend!" a male voice called out. "I'm so happy to see you. How long has it been?"

I barley had enough time to blink before the impressive black swan fully shifted into the body of an even more impressive, and fully dressed man I might add, wearing an impeccable black suit after climbing out of the fountain, followed by four swan-maidens — or whatever the hell you called shapeshifting swans in female form — and casually strolled toward us all liquid grace and sinful curves.

"Sean, my good friend," Vycandor replied, clapping him on the back. "It has been too long. Let me introduce you to a couple of my...of my..." He paused, eyes pleading as if searching for the right word.

"Friends," Thomas finished for him, swallowing hard as if that simple word left an extremely bad taste in his mouth.

Vycandor snapped his fingers together. "Ah, right. These are my friends, Chaos and Thomas." Meeting my eyes only, he continued by saying, "This fine aquatic fellow here is Sean, he's the overseer of Maple Island."

Sean gave an exaggerated sweeping bow. "Just call me Mr. Roarke, tour master extraordinaire of this beautiful, if not devilish island." 

I couldn't tell if he was being serious, or jokingly referring to himself as the enigmatic overseer of a show called Fantasy Island  that my mom and I loved to watch on TV Land. When the swan-maidens began giggling like schoolgirls, I knew he was only joking. Appearing extremely confident and debonair in his impeccably tailored suit, it wasn't until Sean reached for my hand that I realized only his darkly tanned, but extremely handsome face appeared human. The rest of him, at least from what I could tell, was completely covered in ink black feathers. Easily standing six feet tall, Sean was slender, well groomed and perfectly elegant. A carbon copy of Vycandor in some ways, as if they had the same tailor. But while Vycandor wore his dark hair long and free-flowing in a mass of curls that extended all the way down to his waist, Sean wore his curly black hair shaved on both sides while leaving a thick strip in the middle that ran front to back, which he'd fashioned into a sort of Mohawk. However, upon closer inspection, I realized the curls weren't hair at all but made up of a gentle ruffle of downy soft feathers.

"Let me show you to your room," Sean said in a naughty voice, as if the three of us were staying in the honeymoon suite. 

Before I could open my mouth to argue, two of the swan-maidens looped their slender human arms through Sean's, while the other two did the same to Thomas and Vycandor. Pure white feathers clung to their protruding cleavage, hourglass figures, and shapely legs — extending down just barely enough to cover their biscuits in the shortest miniskirts known to man.

Ignored as if I didn't exist, I found myself cast aside like an old ballet shoe. It didn't help matters any that Thomas and Vycandor couldn't take their eyes off the girls...uh, I mean the swans. Not that I blamed them, of course. Shape-shifting birds with a killer wardrobe, what's not to love?

Suddenly the hunger became the least of my concerns. I wanted to go Black Swan on all their asses.