Serene's view

The next day passes in a blur. I don't remember a thing until I'm suddenly saying goodbye to Lucy and Brietta, walking up to my mother with anticipation building in my veins.

I've thought over very carefully how I'm going to pull this off. I'm very lucky that I'm a good kid, because hopefully I've built up enough good deeds and trust that my parents won't question too much the excuse I'm going to make.

I join Janessa and my mom. Mom holds her hand out. "You ready to go?"

"Actually, Mom, I was going to go over to Lucy's." I say, gesturing inside. "She's in the bathroom, but then her parents are going to take us. Is that okay?"

"Oh!" Mom looks surprised, but she's smiling. "Sure, sweetheart. Just call me when you're ready to come home, okay?"

"Okay." I turn and start to walk toward the doors, knowing full well Lucy is already on her way home with her mom. The moment I hear Mom and Janessa disappear, I stop in my tracks, turning right around and walking toward the bridge. The courtyard is deserted at the moment, every kid either at home or inside finishing up. If I move quickly enough...

Fixing my eyes on the tip of the bridge, on the horizon, I feel the familiar tug and let it envelope me. In the blink of an eye, I'm standing on the bride, a foot away from the gaping entrance to the Isle of the Lost.

I haven't been on the Isle since I was very small. We went to visit Great-Uncle Pluto, back when he still lived here, before he moved in with Aunt Mal and Uncle Ben. I don't remember a lot about the Isle. Just that it was very different from Auradon.

Life on the Isle has improved, according to old villains who live there. I've seen interviews and the like. You can come and go as you please, so long as you keep to the laws. The Isle is like a more angst-ridden, leather-clad version of Auradon. (Well, kids on Auradon wear leather, too, now, I suppose...) It gets shipments of good food, and because the sun can shine here now, they grow a lot of their own food and really only exchange sugar and the like.

But it's still different. More dangerous. Laws aren't as followed here, so long as it's nothing serious. King Ben and Queen Mal don't police this place often, choosing to trust that this place can be safe.

So that's why I hesitate at the entrance. The change between the cobblestone and the Isle. Everything about it screams that it isn't a place I'll easily belong in.

"You came."

I flinch, looking in the shadows behind the gate. Blake is there, his eyes glinting with something I can't quite place.

"I said I would." I say, very quiet, looking around nervously. It seems deserted.

"Don't worry." Blake waves his hand, and shadows seem to descend around us. "Nobody can see us. You don't need to fret about your little reputation."

"So why am I here?" I ask, following him as he turns and starts walking with purpose deeper into the Isle.

"To hone your powers."

"Obviously." I huff, jogging to keep with his long strides. "I mean, what are we going to do? Are you training me?"

He laughs. "Me? Of course not. I'll be helping, obviously, but my dad and someone... else... will be training you."

I stop abruptly. "Wait. You never said anything about your father. And some mysterious person. You dad tried to kill my parents!"

Blake sighs, annoyed, and turns back to me. "And where did you learn that?"

"Everyone knows the story."

"But where did you learn it?"

I think back. "My parents, I suppose."

"Exactly." he takes my arm with only the slightest bit of grip and pulls me forward again. "Common misconception. My father was after Jack Frost, and Mother Gothel and Cruella De Vil tricked him into thinking your mother was Frost's daughter so they could get to her. My father would never have touched your mother had he known who she was."

"That doesn't excuse his actions." I say, but I still follow Blake without fighting. I can't deny that a part of me is intrigued, wondering what the other side sees.

"No, it doesn't." Blake agrees. "But it does show that villians sometimes can be the victims."

"But your father was still trying to kill---"

"Yes, he intended to end your mother's life." Blake says, sounding so angry now that I instantly stop talking. "But that doesn't justify... shackling him to this cursed Isle. He is one of the few souls left who struggles daily to keep his powers."

"But there's a program..." I say weakly. "To integrate villains back to---"

Blake snorts. "Tell me, Serene, when was the last time you heard any of the adults give the villains left powerless a second thought?"

I cast my thoughts around, but can't come up with a single recent memory. My silence says everything, and Blake smirks.

"That's their problem. Out of sight, out of mind. Wouldn't you agree that's how they see people like you and I?" He meets my eyes, and I nearly nod before I catch myself.

Blake seems unconcerned by my silence, and he suddenly stops. I mentally curse myself when I realize that I haven't been paying attention to where we were going. Worst comes to worst, I'll transport myself out of here.

Blake lets go of my arm and approaches a large, gated entrance with about twenty locks all over.

He takes hold of the smallest one and flicks his wrist. Black sand trickles down his arm into the shape of a key, sliding in and unlocking it. All the locks disappear, and the gate creaks open.

"C'mon." Blake gestures to me, and I follow him inside the gaping, black entryway. Every sure thought I'd had before has fled, leaving me with trembling arms and knees, and pale skin covered in goosebumps. My heart is pounding as we descend stairs into the darkness before finally emerging in a large, round, room with silver sconces every few feet. It's split into two parts---half kitchen, half living room. A TV flickers sadly in the living room, and an odd glass tank is on the kitchen counter, empty save a small lizard that I swear follows my movements with its eyes.

"Hey, Dad." Blake takes off his huge coat and drapes it on a coat hanger. Underneath the coat, I'm surprised to see that Blake isn't as thin as he looks. His gray-white arms are actually rather well-defined as he crosses them over his T-shirt and leans against the kitchen counter.

"Welcome home, son." The only armchair in the living room turns around, and my stomach nearly crawls into my throat as I realize I'm facing one of the villains my mother fought all those years ago.

"Pitch Black at your service, my dear." His silky voice washes over me like a chilling breeze, and I shudder involuntarily.

"No need for fear." Pitch says, standing in one fluid motion. I notice that while his son has sand constantly moving on him, like a sandstorm under his skin, Pitch has very little darkness on him. His pale skin is washed-out, his yellow eyes sunken and ill-looking. My first instinct upon seeing him was to flee. But now all I feel is a bit of disgust, and pity. This is not a healthy man.

He spreads his arms. "Not what you were expecting?"

"I expected you to be more intimidating." The words are out of my mouth before I can contemplate them. I shrink backwards, expecting anger, but Blake snorts and Pitch throws his head back, laughing.

"I like your spirit!" Pitch shouts. Turning to Blake, he adds, "Were you followed?"

"No."

"Excellent." Pitch rubs his hands together, his golden eyes turning to me. "Come further in, my dear, I won't bite."

Ignoring every goosebump on my skin, I step further into the room. Blake flicks his wrist, and a stream of shadows leaps across the room, closing and locking the door behind me. Pitch sweeps toward me before I have a chance to react, circling me like a shark would its prey.

"My, you are your mother's daughter." Pitch murmurs in my ear, taking a piece of my hair between his fingers. "An uncanny resemblance."

I resist the urge to pull away, sensing it probably wouldn't be a good idea.

"Except the eyes..." Pitch practically purrs. "So dark... so angry."

His demeanor changes in an instant, and he glides away from me, going to stand next to his son.

"Tell me, girl, why do you think you are here?" He asks.

"I..." My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Pitch smiles, which somehow makes him look... parental. "Don't change your answer, my girl. Say what you think. There will be no judgement here."

"That's new." I say aloud without meaning to. I feel my face heat up, but Pitch just nods thoughtfully.

"Serene, correct?" I nod, and he continues. "You resemble your mother, as I first said, but there's a certain..." He pauses, his eyes locking with mine. "Difference, shall we say."

"Difference how?" I blurt out.

Pitch shrugs. "That remains to be seen. Now, answer the question. Why do you think you are here?"

"To get better at my powers." I say firmly. To show everyone I can do it.

Pitch nods, his parental smile vanishing, replaced by a slightly sadistic one. "Partially. Now, show me your level of control."

I hesitate. "How?"

"Do whatever you can think of." Pitch says.

"You could try seeing if you can stop me at my full level of concentration." Blake says eagerly, pushing off of the counter.

"But weren't we waiting for someone else?" I ask weakly.

Pitch shakes his head. "She's not your concern right now. I agree with Blake's proposal. Blake?"

Blake nods, crossing the room to stand in front of me. "You ready?"

"I guess so." I say uncertainly. I ready my powers, feeling them buzz under my skin, all worries washing away for the moment.

Blake, who was as still as a statue moments before, suddenly twists his hands together. Fine black shadows burst from his palms, streaking toward me. I throw my hands out. I can sense in a second that I won't be able to stop this amount, so I redirect it. I create a thin gray-black shield around myself, causing the sand to bounce off harmlessly.

Blake's forehead scrunches up in concentration, and he swings his arms like he's throwing knives. Wave after wave of thick black sand slams against my shield. But it doesn't penetrate.

Blake's brow shimmers with sweat, but nothing is hurting me. I barely feel winded, but I can see Pitch doesn't look impressed. So I decide to try something.

Keeping half my concentration on the shield, I slip into the deeper part of my powers. The world dissolves into blacks and grays, not a stitch of white in here. But what nearly halts me is how much black is in this room. Three enormous sources---Pitch, Blake, and the lizard on the counter. But I barely notice the two latter, because despite what Blake told me about being more powerful than his father, Pitch's shadows are wild and untamed. Furious, black tongues of suppressed power beating on a golden shield of light. The longer I watch it, the more transfixed I become. The gold light must be Endora's enchantments to keep him powerless. And it isn't doing well after all this time. I can see tiny cracks that sand is slowly slipping through, then turning around to help pull its brethren out.

It takes a few more seconds of Blake's powers hitting mine before I remember: that's not what I'm here for.

I ignore Pitch, and turn my attention to Blake. Under my power's vision, his attacks are weak and laughable. Calling all my darkness to the surface, I can feel the telltale sign that I'm straining what I'm capable of. But I don't listen, and I shout with the force as I fling my hands out, demolishing my shield and Blake's shadows.

For a moment, the room is silent. Grains of black sand and silver shadows hover frozen mid-air, suspended in my control. I know that Pitch and Blake are both looking at me, but I'm paying more attention to the lizard on the kitchen counter.

The darkness of that thing was off the charts. Nearly as high as Pitch's, if not higher. I slowly relax out of my shadowed vision, letting the room clear to normal again.

For a moment, all I see are Blake's and Pitch's surprised faces.

Then I hear laughter. High-pitched, female laughter.

"Oh, this one is even better than I expected." The chillingly cold voice says giddily. Much to my shock, the lizard leaps out of it's glass container in one movement, landing on the countertop. It crawls quickly to Pitch. "Bring me to her."

Pitch moves fluidly, putting his hand down and letting the bizarre lizard crawl onto him. I flinch away when he steps close to me, holding the lizard a few feet away from my face.

"Our third guest." Pitch says, a knowing smirk on his face.

"A... lizard?" My voice is unrecognizable, shaking and fearful. Because I know the story behind King Ben's coronation. Everyone does. It's a legend. Practically the first villain-hero story I heard when I was growing up.

"Serene De Vil..." Pitch says grandly, his voice booming. "I introduce to you Maleficent, Mistress of Evil."