And, Maleficent thought, her mind made up, she was, and always would be, a protector.
Sensing the change in Maleficent, Ingrith reacted instantly. She lifted a huge crossbow in front of her. With her finger on the trigger, she smiled one more time, and then…she fired.
In a flash, a huge cloud of red dust hit Maleficent square in the chest. As the air exploded in red, Aurora screamed in anguish.
A moment later, the world in front of Maleficent vanished as she turned from fey to dust.
Aurora wept, her chest heaving as she watched the place where Maleficent had been. Now there was nothing but a cloud of dark dust that slowly began to dissipate in the wind.
Hearing the sound of footsteps above her, Aurora looked up. The simplest of movements was painful in light of what had just happened. Ingrith was peering down at her, a look of triumph on her face.
“Do you know what makes a great leader, Aurora?” Ingrith asked, unmoved by the tears that poured down Aurora’s cheeks and onto the stones. “The ability to instill fear in your subjects — and then use that fear against your enemies.” As she spoke, she waved her hand in the air, as though she could wave away the red dust that lingered. Aurora stared up at her, unable to find her voice or the strength to move.
Ingrith went on. “So, I told them the story about the evil witch, the princess she cursed, and how my son saved the beauty with True Love’s Kiss.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. The woman was madder than she had thought. That wasn’t the story. That was only part of the story. A twisted version that painted Maleficent a villain. Of course the people had hated the Dark Fey. They had trusted their queen to tell them the truth…and she had taken their trust and used it against them. She was, Aurora realized, pure evil. She was the witch, not Maleficent.
As if reading her thoughts, Ingrith nodded. “I know you think I’m a monster,” she continued. “But what I did to the king, to Maleficent, to my son…I did it for Ulstead.” As she spoke, she took a step closer. Now her toes were nearly on top of Aurora’s fingers. She stopped, inches away. “This,” she finished, gesturing to the dust that had once been Maleficent, and then out at the devastation wrought by her war, “is your doing. You are a traitor to your kind — and you will pay for it.”
Reaching down, Ingrith grabbed Aurora’s wrist and yanked her painfully to her feet. Ignoring Aurora’s protests, the queen dragged her closer to the edge of the tower. Aurora’s feet scrambled on the stone. For such a fragile-looking woman, the queen was remarkably strong. Hate fueled her strength and clouded her mind. What else could explain what she was about to do? It was clear that Ingrith planned to send Aurora hurtling to her death while soldiers, fey, and even Phillip (who Aurora spotted on a neighboring parapet) watched.
The wind began to pick up as Aurora was dragged closer to the edge. The dust that had scattered all over the tower’s stones lifted into the air and began to swirl. Ingrith didn’t notice. She was focused on the crowd that had gathered below.
“Maleficent is dead!” she shouted.
From the human soldiers came muffled shouts of joy while the remaining fey gasped. Ingrith reveled in both reactions, her smile growing broader. “We will never again have to live in fear.”
“Let go of me,” Aurora said. Ingrith’s words were making her sick. How could the woman be so happy in the face of such devastation? Aurora wrenched her arm back but Ingrith’s grip was iron tight.
“Ulstead is free at last,” Ingrith said triumphantly. But as her words drifted down and over the crowd, so, too, did more dust. It swirled in the air, shifting and transforming in front of her very eyes, slowly at first, then faster and faster as it grew and thickened.
“What’s happening?” Aurora heard Ingrith ask. But she didn’t look at the queen. Her eyes were glued to the dust.
Then the dust began to take shape. It wasn’t clear at first. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the way it shifted and moved. But as Aurora watched, the dust that had once been Maleficent began pulling together and stretching until at last it became a massive phoenix.
Aurora gasped.
Maleficent had been transformed. Her love and the power of her sacrifice had tapped into the ancient being within her, so, like the mythical being of her ancestry, she was reborn.
Letting out a ferocious roar, the phoenix spread her wings. The bird turned, locking her eyes on Ingrith. The queen took an anxious step backward as she saw the look of death in the bird’s eyes. Behind her, the soldiers dropped their weapons and scrambled away from the phoenix as green magic began to swell, casting the tower and the ground below in an eerie shadow.
Aurora looked at Maleficent — the phoenix — and a single tear trickled down her cheek. The bird was beautiful. She was wild and powerful, and despite the anger in her eyes, Aurora knew the bird represented everything good that had been in Maleficent’s soul.
And then, before anything could be done to stop her, Ingrith shoved Aurora over the ledge. With a cry, Aurora began to fall.
The wind rushed in her ears and whipped painfully at her cheeks. She saw the stones of the tower flashing by her as she plummeted toward the ground. Faster and faster she fell, her dress billowing around her as the clouds wafted teasingly at her from above. The ground rose, ready to meet her.
Then she heard it: over the wind, the cry of a bird and the flapping of powerful wings. A moment later, she felt the wings wrap around her, and then, with a thunderous crash, she — and Maleficent — slammed into the hard ground.
Aurora groaned. Her eyes, shut tightly, suddenly sprang open. There was precisely one thing on her mind: Maleficent!
Whipping her head around, Aurora saw that she was lying on the ground, cradled in the wings of the phoenix. As the majestic creature’s wings opened, Aurora scrambled to her feet and moved a few steps away. Her eyes never left the phoenix. But the bird now lay motionless. The colorful wings did not move again. The eyes were closed.
Then, as she watched, the phoenix’s eyes opened and she, too, rose. For a moment, the creature hovered in the air, an image from legend brought to beautiful life. Nearby, the Dark Fey who had survived bowed their heads in respect. And then, once more, the phoenix transformed. The wings became arms. The feathers turned black. And standing there, once again whole, was Maleficent. She was the same, yet different. Her eyes were filled with new wisdom and peace. And where she had once only had wings, now she had a tail, too — like the phoenix from which she had gained such strength.
With a cry of joy, Aurora raced to her mother. She flung her arms around Maleficent and clung to her, holding her like she would never let go. Maleficent hugged her right back. And then slowly, gently, Maleficent began to stroke Aurora’s hair. “Beastie,” she said softly.
Aurora let herself weep. For everything she’d almost lost. For all that Phillip had lost. For the darkness Ingrith had caused. But as the tears fell, they became tears of joy. She had gotten Maleficent back. Maleficent had come back for her. For love. Her mother might make light of it someday, but Aurora knew now, more than ever, that love was the most powerful magic of all.
Hearing footsteps, Aurora reluctantly pulled free. Phillip stepped forward, and this time it was his arms she fell into. As the Moor folk and the humans watched, they hugged. “What now?” Phillip asked, stepping out of the embrace.