Visage

     Her wide eyes were scarlet with green irises. When her jaw dropped, it revealed sharp, pointed teeth that were neither sharp nor pointed before. Her fur had become a deep shade of purple, yet somehow her auburn hair had been untouched. As if to be sure, the Aisha reached up to twirl a lock of it around her trembling fingers – which had suddenly grown what she could only call claws.

     Her face twisted from shock to disbelief after she touched it over and over, feeling it with her hands, before her knees gave way beneath her and she dropped to the floor, still gazing at the other Aisha in the glass. Then her shoulders shuddered as she gave way to profuse, broken sobbing.

     “Callista? Callista!”

     She looked up when she heard her name; it had been called by an Aisha who resembled her, albeit with softer features and red eyes hidden behind glasses. Briefly, she noticed the already dissipating tendrils of emerald light from his profile.

     “F-Father! What’s happening?” she wailed as the other Aisha knelt beside her, cupping her chin in gentle hands and brushing her hair away from her face. “I…my face…your face…”

     “The Orb has been stolen,” whispered Sergeant Major Crandall into her ear as he slowly scrubbed a tear away from her left eye. He whispered spell words under his breath, and green fire blazed anew on his fingers. Callista shut her eyes as he placed his warm hands on her cheeks, barely pausing as he seemed to go through an entire book of incantations. But while she could feel the tingle of his magic and his careful touch, she could feel little else, except perhaps a cold sort of dread beginning to wash over her like a breaking wave.

     Then Crandall said the words that she had hoped not to hear from him, especially not at this time.

     “Nothing’s working.”

     “Wh-what?”

     “As I thought…my magic cannot reverse the effects of the loss of the Orb. The curse beneath the Citadel has come alive at last and has struck everyone. I’m so sorry.”

     When she looked at him again, his expression was defeated. Disappointed.

     “You’re…you’re one of Lord Darigan’s most powerful healers,” she said, gripping his hands tightly. “Please, Father, you have to try again!”

     “I’ll try, but I cannot make any promises, sweetheart.”

     “Who stole the Orb?” Callista demanded as Crandall’s emerald magic flared to life again in front of her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror – still purple-furred and red-eyed. “Is anyone going after them?”

     Crandall sighed, as sweat beaded on his forehead and he flicked his wrist to create a green nimbus that surrounded Callista’s head. “We sent some of our knights to try and track the Orb down. The Neopians who had come for our Orb were…they were mostly dressed in camouflage cloaks and armour, but some witnesses claimed that they saw a red, blue and gold emblem that may be our only lead.”

     Callista trembled as she reached up to touch her face again, her mouth opening into a grimace. She stole another glance at the mirror and saw that her eyes were beginning to shine with tears.

     “Father…am I going to stay like this? I look…I look ugly…”

     “No!” The older Aisha gritted his teeth, and the cloud of magic vanished like smoke. He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re not ugly. Nothing on Neopia can ever make you ugly, Callista.”

     “You really think…I’m not ugly?”

     “Of course. But if you really want, I’ll still ask the other healers for help, maybe together, we can…”

     His voice trailed off. For a moment, she stayed in his embrace, albeit tensely.

     “No. I’m going to ask Mother.”

     Then she extricated herself and stood up, brushing off her skirt. “She’ll know what to do.”

     “Mother?” Crandall repeated as he likewise got back onto his feet. “No, no, please, let the other Darigan Citadel healers handle this first.”

     She scowled. “If you can’t even change me back, just a little, what makes you think the other healers, the other mages, can? Mother is more powerful than all of them. More powerful than you.”

     Crandall winced, looking away for a second, before answering, “Perhaps she is, but you know her brand of magic. It’s wild, unpredictable, and…”

     “And I bet it’ll work, even if yours doesn’t!” Callista exploded. Again, her hands explored her face, her eyes regarded her reflection, and her expression became more and more desperate. “Thanks for nothing!”

     “No! I promise I’ll keep looking for a cure! We all are! It’s just…your mother’s magic…and I meant it, Callista, you are not ugly! Callie…”

     As she stormed out of the room, Crandall watched her and glanced at his own reflection.

     Both bespectacled Aishas looked dejected, regardless of how their looks had changed.

     * * *

     Unlike Crandall, who lived within the fortress in the middle of Darigan Citadel, Morguss was content with a small cottage just on the outskirts of the land.

     Callista, shrouded in a dark cloak, paused in front of the door and knocked. Her second set of ears twitched when she heard a click, and two more clicks, and another long, drawn-out and rough click, before the door swung open to reveal a Green Moehog.

     “I thought you’d come,” Morguss said, stepping aside to allow her daughter to run into her home. “I heard what happened to the Citadel.”

     The Aisha lowered her hood and took in the heady smells and warm air that had become all too familiar to her.

     “But you still look the same, Mother.”

     “I was quite fortunate that I was away when the Orb was stolen. But let me guess. Crandall could not undo what had happened.”

     “He couldn’t.” Callista pouted, averting her eyes from the glass pane of a window.

     “Of course he couldn’t,” Morguss remarked casually as she peered into her bubbling cauldron in her fireplace. “He may be the most powerful mage in Darigan Citadel, but he is not more powerful than me.”

     The Aisha nodded vigorously. “That’s what I told him. So, can you?”

     “Can I what?”

     “Fix this.” Callista flapped a hand impatiently toward her face.

     The corner of Morguss’ mouth twitched, but she didn’t say anything else. Instead, she plucked an old leather-bound tome from the shelf over her fireplace and began flipping through the pages. Dust motes drifted from the rustling paper.

     She looked up severely from her book at her daughter.

     “The curse of the Citadel is not something so easily reversed, not without the power of the Orb,” the Green Moehog said.

     “What? What do you mean, you can’t reverse it?” Callista cried. The flames beneath the cauldron suddenly reared up to nearly its height, leaving scorch trails in their wake. Morguss gasped at the marks left in the pewter, grabbed her twisted wand, and waved it over the fire until it simmered back down.

     “Be careful, child,” Morguss grumbled, shaking her head. She rolled her eyes and said, “Tsk, your father has been neglecting your lessons on magic control…”

     Callista breathed in and out. “But…but…”

     “I only said I cannot reverse the curse. But I can do something about it. Now, calm down and sit down by the fire. I think I found the spell I’m looking for.”

     * * *

     Callista stared at her reflection in Morguss’ faded mirror. She stared, and stared.

     All traces of her purple fur, fangs, and claws had faded away. A brown Aisha gazed back at her with piercing green eyes, with hair that was just a bit smoother, shinier, more…perfect, was the only word she could think of, as she ran her fingers through her tresses.

     Before the curse had struck, she had been a brown Aisha. And while she was a brown Aisha yet again, there was something about her looks this time that was…

     “Mother,” she breathed, “I’m…I’m beautiful.”

     “Hmph, of course you are,” Morguss grunted. “What, did Crandall tell you that you were ugly?” She snorted. “Well, classic case of pot calling the kettle – “

     “No, he said I wasn’t ugly.”

     The Green Moehog paused briefly as she shut her spellbook and shrugged. “I see. Well, now you are prettier than he is. Prettier, I gather, than anyone else on the Citadel.”

     “Thank you, Mother!” Callista gushed, smiling her perfect smile, jumping up and twirling about in the cottage. “I knew you could do it!”

     “Just don’t forget that it isn’t permanent. Under that spell, you still look the same. Transformed. Cursed. And watch my vials.”

     “Oh, sorry.”

     Morguss placed her book back onto the shelf and turned to face the brown Aisha.

     “And,” she added, “there are rules for you to follow. You can’t just use that spell whenever you feel like it. I’m not a charity business for the Citadel, and this sort of glamour takes up a lot of magic. I can teach you to cast it upon yourself…”

     “Really? Please, teach me how, Mother!”

     “I will, don’t you worry.” Morguss grinned, drumming her fingers on the book’s spine. “But in exchange, you have to promise me that you’ll do everything I say. Unless you’d like to go back to how you looked before. Remember, only I can teach you this spell.”

     At first, Callista was quiet. But it did not take long for her to bow her head and nod. When she smiled, she couldn’t help but sneak another glance at her face in the mirror.

     “Yes, Mother.”

     The End.