Once Upon an Ever After

Introduction by Kaye Lynne Booth

COMPILED AND EDITED by Kaye Lynne Booth

COVER BY WordCrafter Press

Introduction

In the fall of 2021 , I was privileged to be a part of the Gilded Glass editorial team for Western State Colorado University and WordFire Press . It was quite an experience really, to read through over six hundred short fiction submissions. We were looking for stories that fit our theme and criteria, were well crafted and thought provoking, and near ready for publication, requiring only minimal editing. When you have only two semesters to run through the entire publication process for an anthology, you don’t have the time for extensive editing on twenty to twenty-five stories. But as the months of the fall semester dwindled down, we ran a couple of elimination rounds and eventually, in one two and a half hour long Zoom call, selected twenty-two stories to be included in the anthology, including stories from five big name authors, which was very cool.

But it wasn’t easy. There were so many stories which were really good, which had to be rejected, because they didn’t quite fit the criteria, or just because there were others that were better, and there just wasn’t room within our budget to include more. However, as a small independent publisher myself, I just couldn’t bear to let some of these excellent tales be tossed to the side, when they really were good enough to find publication. There were many stories which I couldn’t bring myself to let go of.

Instead, I downloaded those stories and the authors’ contact information, and I extended invitations to have these story gems published in a different anthology, after the final decisions had been made for Gilded Glass and all rejection and acceptance letters had been sent out, of course. Some of the stories I saved fit the fairy tale theme well, while others may have had interesting incorporation of the mirror element and not so much emphasis on the folkloric aspects, and there were some stories which really didn’t fit either. Because of this, it was difficult to think of about a theme, although they did have certain things in common. What I came up with was enough stories to do three separately themed anthologies.

Fairy tales and folklore are a special kind of fantasy; the kind that takes you to magical lands, where anything is possible, and even evil curses can be overcome. They are filled with beautiful princesses and handsome princes, old hags and cagey witches, castles to be conquered, damsels to be rescued, and spells to be broken. I mean, what’s not to like?

Once Upon an Ever After is a collection of fairy tales, or fairy tale-like stories, salvaged from the slush pile, because I thought they were too good to be discarded. It’s a lovely and diverse collection of modern fairy tales and folklore. I do hope you’ll enjoy them. And now....

Be prepared to be enchanted...

The Mirror of Truth

(And Other Arcane Artefacts)

By Charlie Emrys

To say the ruins of the Dark Enchanter’s castle dominated the skyline would be a kind overstatement. Rather, they slumped against the horizon like a hard-worked maidservant who, on her stumbling way to bed after a long day of toil, had instead collapsed into sleep against her chamber door.

The castle was once an impenetrable fortress, commanding unparalleled views across the coast of the queendom of Iriring. From here, it was said the Dark Enchanter had launched her decades-long reign of evil.

But, as reigns are wont to do, the Dark Enchanter’s ended, not with a bang, but with several controlled explosions. The aptly named Definitely Final Battle brought the Dark Enchanter, and her fortress, to rubble.

It was fear at first, in the aftermath, that kept most of the surrounding townsfolk away from the ruins. Time succeeded with the rest. Now, precious few set foot on the flagstones that had once borne the steps of the queendom’s most infamous tyrant. And even fewer still remembered the treasures buried within.

For deep in the ruins of the castle, sunk under moss and leaf rot and toppled stone, there lay a once-magnificent chamber. And in this chamber, the Dark Enchanter had kept all her artefacts of incredible magical power; the power-sapping basilisk staff; Chartra, the green-fire griffin, bane of lost travelers; the terrible formless hoard-beast. Yet not one of these came close to her most prized possession, the thing believed to be the source of all her power, the very item that had delivered her to the throne – the Mirror of Truth.

It rests there still. At least, that’s what the stories tell, if any cared to listen.

BE NOT AFRAID, BRAVE little one. Come closer...

The voice was sibylline, silky, silver. It seemed to come from nowhere in particular-yet commanded all attention. Young as fresh snow, ancient as glaciers, it called.

"It has been, oh, so long since I had visitors. Do you know what it is I can grant you, little adventurer?"

The chamber was cold. Here and there weak sunlight broke through tumbled earth and stone, like distant heatless stars. Ash, settled for decades, stirred by a footstep.

I can grant you your most secret desire. That ache you keep locked in your heart, that wish you’d never spoken aloud, that dream that keeps you from sleep... come to me, and I will show it to you. I will make it true.

A quiet sigh, perhaps wistful, broke the air. Footsteps, timid, then more certain. Upon the remains of a dais, pale light glinted on metal, sending dazzling sparks across the floor.

That’s right, my new companion, now let me see your face—

The stranger stepped into the light. And coo’ed.

"- oh not another bloody pigeon!"

Groans filled the chamber.

Not again!

How do the damn things keep getting in?

RARAGHGHG!!

"Yes. Well put, Dragor, it is a right nuisance."

A torch flared alight with a burst of green sparks, throwing the shadows from the room. It was clutched in the weather-worn talons of a fierce stone griffin, with eyes the same unseemly green and a lower body fused to a collapsed wall. In front of the griffin, its light illuminated a half-burnt staff coiled about by a fearsome basilisk, which in turn, leant against a chest of age-dulled coins that shifted now and then, like something underneath was breathing.

The pigeon, startled by the sudden noise and movement, took flight, aiming for what seemed to be a patch of clear night sky- and promptly knocked itself out against the surface of a mirror.

Ow! the Mirror of Truth exclaimed. Couldn’t it see I’m right here? I’m not exactly hard to miss. Though it lacked limbs, the Mirror gave a sense that it was gesturing to itself.

Its huge gilt frame was as tall as an imposing woman, and though the silver was tarnished, it still shimmered impressively in the torchlight. It was etched with a filigree of tiny figures, marvelous in their detail, and there had been a time where mages and scholars the world over would beg to study those intricate pictograms, to trace the patterns of its metal.

Now the Mirror was studied only by spiderlings, looking to string a web and touched only by the greasy bodies of confused pigeons.

I’m going to stink like a bird for a decade now, the Mirror said.

Now there’s no call for that, said the griffin, shifting the torch in her claws. I’m half-bird on my mother’s side, you know.

The Mirror continued, ignoring her. Not that there’s anyone here to notice how I smell. All at once, its surface grew clouded and reflected the image of a miserable grey drizzle.

Two centuries she’s been gone, leaving us all to rot down here. The griffin complained. And not a single soul has even bothered to pillage her most prized possessions! I mean, what? Do tools of immense arcane power mean nothing to people anymore?

Coins scattered from the ancient chest. "I know. It’s almost like no one wants to be cursed."

We’re not cursed, the Mirror snapped.

And why else would we be left down here? the griffin asked, picking her beak with a long talon.

The Mirror sighed.

Perhaps we are forgotten.

Rain pattered across its surface.

NADIM WAS BEGINNING to think he had the wrong address. He looked again at the parcel in his hands—carefully wrapped in cloth, embroidered with sweet smiling puppies and addressed to ‘dear little Roisin’—and out at the harsh wind-swept clifftop where he found himself. It didn’t look like the kind of place you’d expect to find the farrier’s cousin’s niece’s birthday party in full swing and, indeed, there didn’t appear to be another human soul for miles.

Perhaps it’s a surprise party, Nadim thought. A lone gull wailed above him.

Nadim had never got lost on a delivery before. Granted, that was because he’d never had to deliver a parcel further than a few streets down before, but he wasn’t about to ruin that streak on his first inter-village delivery gig. He’d even bought a compass for the occasion, though he hadn’t yet worked out how to use it.

So, he decided, he probably wasn’t lost. Little Roisin’s birthday party surely was happening here, if you broadened the sense of ‘here’ to mean ‘somewhere within six miles of Nadim’s current position’.

Well, no harm in taking a little look around! he said to no one in particular. Who’s to say the farrier’s cousin doesn’t live just behind that suspiciously stone-like mound? The gull agreed with a high keen, or perhaps disagreed vehemently; Nadim didn’t speak gull, but he was an optimist.

So, he made his way over the sparse, wind-blown grass, stone and rubble crunching beneath his boots. Somewhere far below and out of sight, the sea rumbled like a memory of a storm.

As he approached the mound, it became clear that it wasn’t alone. The crumbling forms of foundations, walls, and staircases began to emerge from the gloom. He rounded the side of the mound that faced seaward and almost tripped. The ground here sloped down into a wide, hollow depression littered with charred stone and wood that had been smoothed into strange forms by the wind and salt air. Crows, gulls, and pigeons clamored about the ruins looking for perches, and grass and lichen grew over everything in patches, creating the sense that the whole site was sinking into a boggy green marsh.

Nadim was almost certain little Roisin didn’t live here. Defeated, he was about to turn and begin the long march back to the main track when he heard a bird cry out in distress.

A pigeon had caught its foot in a crevice in the ground. It was a young one, with an absurdly oversized beak and downy feathers, and was squeaking forlornly as it tried and failed to free itself.

Nadim felt a certain kinship for pigeons. ‘Nature’s couriers’, his mum called them. ‘Weird-looking things,’ said everyone else. His heart went out to the little one, and so did his feet.

It’s alright! he called out to the forlorn bird as he picked his way down into the hollow. I’m coming to rescue you!

The ground beneath his feet was getting spongier as he got closer. He reached out his hand to the pigeon. Not quite close enough. He took another step, and this time he could grip the little animal gently in both hands.

Easy does it, he said, and stepped back.

The ground gave way beneath him.

The pigeon fluttered to safety.

Nadim fell.

"GREAT LORDS OF IRIRITH, what in the world is happening?"

GRARGHH?!

It’s alright, Dragor, don’t cry!

A GREAT PLUME OF DUST, mud and termites rained down into the Dark Enchanter’s secret chamber, shortly followed by a body, which landed with a winded -ough.

Chartri extended her torch towards the hole in the ceiling, then over the body on the floor.

Well, would you look at that? she exclaimed delightedly. "It’s raining