August 10, 2017

While the glittering whirl and sash of the Grand Inaugural Ball was at its frenzied peak, deep down dark behind a cobwebbed wooden door in the castle’s long forgotten underdungeon, the shapeshifter worked her magic guided by the glowing time chart’s moving fingers. The night of glory was at hand. Sparks flew. Bright was the dazzle. And Fablenna, for such was the shapeshifter’s name, melted away, pouring herself into herself as a white vessel in the shape of a globe. From the underdungeon she shimmered to glide above and form on the Table of Feast. She waited for the music to stop, a signal that soon to arrive at the banquet table would be the flushed and hungry dancers.

‘Oh, what a lovely round white pot,’ cried the new Queen. ‘Can it be mine?’

Rosy red of cheek, gleaming of eye, she dashed forward and grasped the pot, lifting it high to show one and all. Time froze. Fablenna oozed, dribbling down to encase the joy frozen young Queen. A shuddering. Some trembling. The new Queen had a new sparkle in her eye. Time resumed.

‘I will shatter the pot. It will bring us good fortune,’ said the Queen, and she flung the white globe to the floor, where it shattered for good and all.

Later that night, alone in the velvet and satin splendor of her chamber, the new Queen shifted shapes to her heart’s content and sang quietly the song she had composed for the occasion, Fablenna’s Triumph.

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