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Aurora offered him a soft, gentle smile. “You granted me my freedom. Now, it’s my turn to grant yours.” With that, she pulled away.

“Aurora, don’t!” Tristan’s voice grew faint as she walked away. “We can find another way! Aurora!”

She stopped in front of Rumple, who stood waiting for her, watching with a satisfactory glee at hearing Tristan scream Aurora’s name.

Ignoring Tristan’s pleas, Rumple gestured toward a door, its copper handle gleaming with the reflection of the fire. “Shall we?”

He stepped aside, granting Aurora entry with a wave of his hand. Confusion crossed her features as she regarded him.

“It’s a special handle made of elven metal,” he explained. “All you have to do is imagine the location where the spinning wheel is, then open the door.”

Aurora closed her eyes, her mind conjuring memories of her mother’s bedroom, the images vivid as they surfaced. The white sheet covering the wheel near the window, the sun’s rays filtering through the curtains.

Drawing a deep breath, Aurora opened her eyes and reached for the door handle. As it yielded to her touch, a sense of anticipation rippled through her. She stepped inside the room that held a past she had locked away.

Dusty wood greeted her senses, mingling with the faint scent of memories. Aurora moved toward the window, her fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of the white sheet. As she unveiled the wheel’s spindle, the golden needle sparkled, bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun.

Rumple approached, his eyes wide with nostalgia. “Ah, yes.” His fingers traced the contours of the spindle. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”

Aurora narrowed her eyes. “What’s so special about it?” she asked.

“Your parents never told you?” Rumple scoffed. “Figures. Well, princess, you’ve got yourself a deal.” With a snap of his fingers, the parchment reappeared in his hand, unrolling to reveal the pact they had woven. “Sign on the bottom and your prince is free to go.”

“Where’s the quill? Aurora asked.

“If the prince means that much to you, then sign it with your blood.” Rumple gestured toward the golden needle.

Aurora took a deep breath, then pricked her finger on the tip of the needle. It stung as blood pooled at the tip of her finger. She pressed her finger onto the parchment without a second thought. As her mark settled onto the page, the parchment vanished, and Rumple’s gaze was fixed on her.

But for some reason, her vision blurred and she began to see two of Rumple.

“How are you feeling, dear?” he asked.

Nausea rose from within her, making her lightheaded. “What did you do to me?”

“Me? Absolutely nothing. The needle, however…” He gestured toward the needle again. It glowed brightly, then vanished into a puff of dust with tiny little fragments of gold floating in front of her. “Did I forget to mention the needle was made of pixie dust?”

Aurora’s eyes widened. But before she could say anything, Rumple blew at the air, sending the pixie dust particles into her face.

She coughed, and her vision became hazy.

“Not to worry, dear. This is a much lighter dose. No one will take over your mind,” Rumple continued as Aurora staggered away from him. “But you will, however, be compelled to do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Aurora tried reaching for the door, but the room was spinning. Rumple stepped in front of her and placed a hand on the door to keep her from leaving.

“You will say goodbye to Tristan, then you will go in search of Prince Hendrick, who will no doubt be eagerly anticipating your arrival. Oh, how special that reunion will be.”

“Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

“Too late, dear. A deal is a deal.”

Aurora’s vision cleared, bringing Rumple’s wicked grin into full focus. His eyes were gray like two full moons, something Aurora had only seen in one other person’s eyes. Her father’s.

“Your darkness is from the Dreamworld, isn’t it?” She didn’t need an answer. She knew it was. “I lived in that darkness for a long time, but I cannot imagine having that darkness live within me. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even you.”

His eyes flickered in surprise, but only for a moment. Then his smirk was back. “It’s always nice doing business with the royals,” he said with an unsettling playfulness as he swung the door open. “Until we meet again, princess.”

Through the door, it wasn’t the dungeons that greeted Aurora on the other side—it was a royal bedroom. A king-sized bed, tousled silk sheets, and the lingering scent of Tristan in the air.