Chapter Eight #2
The enchantress clawed her way to the edge of the pond.
No matter what she had to do, Gretel would not allow the enchantress to escape, knowing she would take more lives.
She rushed toward the pond, launching herself at the enchantress.
Kneeling at the pond’s edge, she grasped the enchantress’s shoulders, holding her back, preventing her from climbing out of the pond.
Green mist enveloped them both, blocking out all but the shadows of the world around them.
“Gretel!” Hansel shouted from beyond the edge of Gretel’s vision.
She would not allow the enchantress to escape. She would leave the safety of solid ground for the horror of the pond if need be.
An ear-piercing crack shattered the air. Then another. And another. The world around them grew darker.
The enchantress forced her way upright again, clutching Gretel’s wrist painfully. Gretel fought for freedom enough to prevent the enchantress’s escape. As they struggled, shadows enveloped the pond, blocking out every ray of light. The enchantress cursed and screeched in the blackness.
Something grabbed hold of Gretel’s arm, yanking her away from the pond of tears and out into the light once more. Hansel pulled her farther from the pond. Gretel looked back, terrified that she’d see the enchantress close on their heels.
The garden had transformed. The stone wall no longer stood where it once had, but now fully encircled the pond.
The high tops of the wall bent forward, closing off the top of the circle they’d formed and creating, in its place, a large dome.
The sides rippled like liquid, though they were made of solid stone.
“She is still in there,” Gretel breathed out the realization. “I would be as well.”
“The wall was closing in on you,” Hansel said. “I couldn’t leave you there.”
An almighty rumble shook the ground. An upward explosion of the same green mist that had risen off the pond shot forth from the top of the mountain like a volcanic eruption.
Gretel clutched Hansel, and he her, as bits of rock shot in all directions.
They remained thus for some time after the shaking stopped and silence descended on the garden.
She hadn’t the heart to look, to see if they’d managed their own redemption or if the enchantress was simply waiting to enact her punishment.
Gretel held fast to Hansel and hoped against hope.
“Open your eyes, darling,” he said. “I believe we have done it.”
She opened only one, and tentatively at that. Where the pond had once stood, there was a mountainous rock with a deep crater at its top.
“Can she escape?” Gretel wondered aloud.
Hand in hand, they walked to the rock’s edge. Stretching up on his toes, Hansel looked inside the dome. “It is solid rock,” he said. “There is nothing left of her.”
“She is dead?”
He looked at Gretel once more. “I believe so.”
“And we are free?”
He nodded quickly, yet she was still unsure. To let herself hope only to discover she still could not leave would break her heart.
“The talisman,” she whispered. The answer would be found in the talisman.
She pulled her hand free and ran back to the cottage. She stopped in the doorway and glanced up where the talisman hung. Where it had once hung. It was no longer there. Neither was it on the floor nor set aside. It was simply gone.
Hansel caught up to her.
“We have done it,” she said, hardly believing the words even as they fell from her own lips. “We have done it. We are free.”
He pulled her into his arms and spun her about. She had dreamed of this day, but had feared it would never arrive.
Freedom. A future. And love.
She now had claim on all three.
***
Hansel and Gretel walked to the edge of the forest, hands clasped, hearts glad.
They’d made certain the spell book, potions, and other implements of suffering had been utterly destroyed.
They could do nothing to undo the pain and loss of life the enchantress had been responsible for, but they would not allow others to be hurt by the trail she’d left behind.
As they reached the clearing that led to the forest home where Hansel had been living, Gretel stopped, staring.
“This is—” She shook her head, attempting to clear it. “My memories are returning slowly, but I believe this was my home. My papa lives here.”
“I live here as well,” Hansel said.
“This is the home of the man who took you in? My papa?”
He smiled. “It appears fate brought us together in more ways than one.”
A man stepped out of the humble house. “You were gone for some time, Hansel. I’d nearly given up on—” His gaze fell on Gretel, confusion settling there.
Her expression likely looked the same. She knew him. She knew she did, and yet . . .
“Gretel,” Hansel said. “I believe he is your father.”
“Papa,” she whispered.
Hansel cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and called out to the man. “This is Gretel. Your daughter.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the last remnants of fog left Gretel’s mind and, if her papa’s sudden intake of breath was any indication, his mind as well.
“Oh, my darling Gretel.” He rushed to her and her to him. His arms flew around her, holding her tightly. She held to him as well.
“I am free, Papa. I am free.”
Hansel was invited into the embrace. By that evening, he was fully invited into the family. By week’s end, his place among them was official and binding.
Hansel and Gretel spent their days happily wandering the now-peaceful paths of their beloved forest, building their life together, and never taking for granted the very real miracle of their freedom.