It Isn't Easy Being Queen

42. THE END?

Other Me shattered into millions of tiny glimmering flecks that converged, twisting into a silver tornado that swooped into my ethereal body with such force it hurled me against the wall backward, then ejected me from the mirror room. Boom! I was back inside my physical body, the warmth of the magic inside my belly. But it felt different now. The magic no longer stung and buzzed. It felt right. Like it was a part of me. Nothing to fear. I even felt powerful!

The only problem was, I was utterly paralyzed.

My body was stiff as ... well ... a stiff.

It was like being trapped inside the Tin Man when we first met him in The Wizard of Oz. He'd rusted in the forest while chopping wood, and without his oil can, he couldn't move. The outer shell of my body pressed down on me like a lead blanket, hot and heavy. My lungs were about to explode from lack of air. Also, I couldn't see, hear, or smell anything.

Calm down. Calm down. Think. Think. Think.

I was pretty sure panicking wasn't the solution.

And when panic isn't an option, the only thing left is magic. Or giving up, but I wasn't in the mood.

What would be the correct spell to get one's body back into working order? How about fac corpus meum opus? (make my body work.) I couldn't move my jaw, so speaking the spell was off the table. All I could do was think the spell really hard and cross my fingers that it worked. I mean, cross my fingers figuratively. There would be no actual finger-crossing at this time. Also, this better work fast, or I'd suffocate.

Fac corpus meum opus! I thought with all my might.

Nothing happened.

Hey, magic! Come on! I need you!

Rowen! The ropes! They're restraining me. I can't function.

Oh, no! I'd forgotten about the magic-suppressing ropes. Other Me was utterly useless. What was I going to do?

What I always do in these circumstances—black out.

Black dots assembled in front of my eyelids, coalescing into solid black as my consciousness slipped away.

THE END