6. Skinchanger

The dust motes drifted lazily in sunbeams, bursting through the holes in the roof. Her hands waved gently in their warmth, held aloft before her face, savouring the silence and safety that day break seemed to carry with it.

She had slept in this makeshift cell for a night or two beneath piles of furs. To mask her scent, he said. In case he comes looking, he said.

Lumiere was taking no chances. He had locked her in here, behind bars as thick as her arms, to keep her safe from Chaos. At least he seemed to possess some free will. She huffed in malcontent, the sharp exhale of breath sending the dust motes flurrying in swirling motions, bumping into one another before they lost energy and became lethargic once more.

Order was restored to the chaos.

She drifted in and out of half-sleep, listening to the world shift around her. The birds sang as though not two nights hence, a creature beyond her wildest imaginings had suddenly burst into existence. The sun continued to shine and carry out its charted journey across the skies. No- that wasn't correct. The Earth was the only thing moving. Only the Earth sought to interfere, with her rains and her seasons. The sun remained steady and constant; a steadfast reference point for travellers, Mortals and monsters alike.

-0-

It was as though the place drank in the rains and grew like a cancer. Each time he looked a new part had re-formed, exactly as it had been before.

The white stag had been a key into a world that had been locked away for centuries; the door had been left wide open and she had entered. It was not her fault, Lumiere kept repeating. The phrase seemed to calm her in her fitful, nightmare-riddled slumber.

He didn't understand it then, nor did he understand it now, though something was happening that he hadn't planned or anticipated. Had he only delayed the investable?

A thousand years ago, he had begged the enchantress for relief. The magic, she said, was too powerful for her to alter; too many of the household had been claimed by the insatiable hungers and urges of the beast, his soul had been transmuted into something beyond comprehension. The only way to protect the outside world was to send the place into sub-realm of this reality. No person would be able to perceive this place any longer even if they tripped over the threshold.

It would fall into decline, and eventually fade into nothing.

It had been the right thing to do. They were all dying, and all he could do was watch in horror. In the rare moments that the man returned to form, it were as though he retreated back from the hell he had created. He had been proud and selfish once, a social creature with an appetite for flattery, gluttony and lust. Now… it were as though his sense of self had corroded beyond repair, perhaps irreversibly damaged by the intrusion of the other being within his body.

He succumbed to the call of the monster, rather than face the awful reality that he had created.

And so Lumiere saw no other option. The castle was plunged into slumber, the remaining souls within the place becoming one with it. His flesh turned to stone, should he wish it to. He alone prowled this place as the centuries wore it down into the ground, expecting that he would do so until it was nothing more than dust. Nothing left to find, should anyone happen upon it.

Those white stags… he knew their magic, and he was afraid of what it could do. He recalled the magnificence of that particular creature, how its final cry had echoed in the hall and his master had smiled, cutting out the heart with glee. This, he said, holding aloft the still throbbing organ, would be his key to eternal life and power.

It had taken a further heart to seal this place.

…only one more to break it.

…One that he had missed.

He hunted them from within the confines of the magical field should they stray too near, though he never again cut out a heart to make a wish.

-0-

There is an odd peace to be found in the gardens, she notes, though goosebumps rise on her arms as the clouds clear to reveal a near-perfect full moon. Tomorrow it would be truly full. The air feels oddly still, no breeze disturbing the trees and the flowers. The world around her is in stasis, not a living thing in sight.

Her feet are bare, though the grass is soft underfoot.

Her unhindered wanderings in the grounds take her to a clearing in the midst of a dense copse of trees. The moonlight is almost blinding here, glittering from the surface of a mirror-like pool. Here and there, chunks of stone worn smooth by the weather lay in her path; some large enough to step over, others she had to climb over or duck beneath to reach the enticing water of the pool.

Perhaps there had been an outbuilding here of some sorts a long time ago. A brief study of the trees told her perhaps hundreds years had passed since some event had laid the building to waste.

"It is beautiful here, isn't it?" Lumiere is stood sentinel besides a rain-swollen pool. She gasps at seeing him in the moonlight – he is shirtless, his flesh made of a stone as pure as alabaster.

"Lumiere, you're… You're…"

"I am made of stone, yes. It is part of the magic spell I placed upon this place; a side-effect if you will. Those of us who are left needed all the protection we could get."

They had come to an agreement that she could be free of her cell. He had steadfastly reassured her that she would be safe, at least for this night. She had to trust him. Lumiere – her only friend in this strange and alien place.

"What about me? Am I part of that magic now?"

"I don't know." He approached to stand beside her in her contemplation of the pool, admiring the perfect sphere of the moon in its surface. "All I do know, is that when the moon is at its fullest, the magic gets a little… confused. I can change my skin at will-" He demonstrated this, much to her delight, though her joy did not seem to cheer him.

"It also means that our master… the magic that takes a hold of him… it releases him. He takes on the form of the man I used to serve." His jaw is set, smooth stone features expressionless.

"I sense that you are… angry with him."

"Furious, yes. But he is my master. We were friends once, a long time ago. I lived to serve him. We all did. And THIS is how he repaid us."

"Why can't I go to him? I should see him for myself-"

"No!" Lumiere turned to her, his form shifting back to flesh. His eyes are wild, weathered features alight with emotion. "Please, you must not. You must not put yourself in harm's way. Promise me you won't go to him, that you won't go near the West Wing."

The West Wing had already been shown to her by Lumiere that morning; he had expressly forbidden her from venturing near then, as well. She looked into his eyes, so deep blue, and told him what he wanted to hear.

"I promise."

-0-

"When I was a little girl I used to wish that the fairy tales were real." She told him, gathering armfuls of flowers. He laughed, taking the knife from its resting place between his teeth and continuing to carve away at the sticks lying at his feet.

They were tending a section of the gardens, which had grown wildly out of control in the first few days since the spell had lifted from the castle. She had told him that she liked it that way; wild and untamed, though he had reasoned with her. He was always too serious, she had joked, tossing a handful of soil in his direction.

"We need to be able to sustain ourselves here," He told her, practical hands on his hips. "We need to grow vegetables and squashes."

"Not wild flowers, then?" She huffed, gathering as many as she could and grouping them into bunches. Rosa would have loved these, she thought, her heart suddenly aching.

"No, no wildflowers." He had gifted her with a half-smile, before setting about hacking back the apple trees in the orchard. He would use the branches and fashion them into stakes, to use as guides for the vegetables.

It was then that she told him, on her hands and knees and weeding in the fresh soil, that she used to live in story books as a child.

"Did you wish that the monsters were real, too?" He asked, woodchips flying as he worked.

She thought for a moment. "Yes. Without them there would be no heroes; no princesses to be saved, no brave souls to rise and rescue them. Without the hardships you cannot truly reap the rewards."

He paused, sweeping back his blond hair out of his eyes. "So who is it that will rescue you?"

Her hands stalled in the work, a small weed pinched between her mud-encrusted fingers. "I'm not a princess," She mumbled, tossing the weed aside. "I'm nobody."

"Tifa…" He lets his knife fall into his lap, half standing up to approach her.

"You don't have to talk to me like that. I'm fine- really. I just… I wished for adventure. For a magical journey into the unknown. I suppose I should have been more specific!" She started to laugh, though Lumiere didn't miss the bitter note within it.

"I have some good news for you, I hope." He said, rising to his feet and offering her his hand to assist her. She didn't take it, wiping her hands on the rough apron she wore. His cool fingers closed into a fist before he dropped it to his side. "Some of us were hiding rather well – Yvette, one of the maids who served as hand-maiden to my master's mother, I found in the wine cellar. She had become trapped underneath the rotten barrels, though as she is immortal like myself, it was just a matter of cutting her loose."

"Yvette… A woman to keep me company I assume is your thinking."

"Yes. You must tire of my company. And if you don't already, you will eventually."

"Lumiere…"

"She is waiting for you there, to help you prepare your room to your liking." He surveyed the skies – the weather would be fine, and the night of the full moon clear.

"Lumiere – I… I'm sorry, for… for everything."

His gaze is drawn to her, staring down at her feet and fumbling with her apron. She is so young, as so beautiful… so raw and wild, she couldn't possibly know it herself…

He crouched to gather up one of the bunches of wildflowers she had set aside; wild dill, day lillies and daisies, lilacs and queen ann's lace… He placed the flowers in her dirtied hands, covering them with his own.

"What happens, happens for a purpose." He sighed, enjoying the warmth of her skin. "Sin is punished with suffering, and the just and good are rewarded, if not in this world, then in the next. The gods have a plan for you, Tifa. It is my pleasure to be party to that plan."

She smiles, rosy mouth and dimpled cheeks, wild auburn hair gleaming copper in the sun and eyes the colour of firelight. Then she stands on tip toe to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Lumiere."

She half skips away to meet Yvette, wild flowers clutched loosely in her hand, leaving him reeling by the vegetable patch.

-0-

The room is in ruin around him. No surprise there.

He was very good at breaking things.

Once sturdy armoires lay in splinters; Glass, crystal and mirror fragments littered the cracked stone work, gleaming beautifully in the moonlight; Fabric hung in tatters at the windows, fluttering like the flags of fallen armies on a battlefield.

Amongst all of this, lay the most broken thing of them all. He'd smashed the mirrors all those years ago because he had grown tired of seeing himself; seeing what he had become.

He lay in a shaft of moonlight, becoming one with its pale luminance, listening to the voices outside; keen hearing was one of his many 'gifts'. A young woman was laughing at something Lumiere said. He didn't recognise her voice immediately, though through the murky fog within his mind, he recalled something…

Blood and viscera, thunder and lightning, fragile bones, sinew and flesh in his clawed hands…

She, whoever she was, had encountered his other self. Lumiere would do well to keep her safe here, now.

His teas were cold.

Hopefully this is developing in the right direction now! Loonloon, thank you for your kind words. I had to go back and correct a small inconsistency I found when re-reading- Tifa dragged the stag outside, but then it was inside again when Chaos disembowelled it! I had to tweak it so that it remained in the hall. Dur!