Petrification
SUMMARY: Turns out finding a fantasy world on the other end of her boyfriend’s parents' scientific portal is not the happy-go-lucky adventure Valerie might have expected.
Originally written for Phantasmal: the Danny Phantom Fantasy AU zine. Spot illustrations by marzfartz.
The stone floor is cold against Valerie’s cheek when she wakes. Frost has crept up over the sleeves of her hoodie and crusted the knees of her jeans, cracking as she pushes herself upright. Her breath escapes in white clouds; she feels sluggish, half-asleep. A part of her wonders that she has managed to wake at all.
She’d fallen asleep to the clanking of chains in the cell across the corridor. Now, there is only silence. In the frosty blue light of the enchanted wall sconces, she can still see the form of the bespectacled boy imprisoned behind the bars: once flesh and blood, now petrified stone.
She wonders, dully, whether she will be the next statue added to the Wizard’s collection.
Perhaps it is in defiance of this eventuality that Valerie pulls her hands to her mouth and attempts to breathe some warmth back into them. She massages her fingers gently, wiggles her toes in her sneakers until the pins and needles fade away. She groans as she rises to her feet and begins pacing the cell, her view locked alternately on unforgiving stone walls and the terrified stone expression of Sidney Poindexter.
“You don’t get it,” Danny says in her memory, “The portal actually leads somewhere. My parents did it! There’s this whole other world on the other side—I met another kid over there, Sidney Poindexter. He’s kind of dorky but—”
She hadn’t believed him. Why should she? Everyone knew the Fenton scientists were quacks, and usually Danny was the first in line to point out the flaws in his parents’ experimental theories. She’d thought he was making up stories, trying to distract her from the stress of finals—nevermind that he hadn’t stopped when she’d snapped at him, hadn’t taken back the story even after days of sullen silences between them.
Well, she sure believes him now, with the frost on her clothes and terror in her veins.
At the end of the cell block, a heavy metal door crashes open. Valerie stills, listening with dread to the heavy footsteps that draw near. The man who stops at her cell looks at her with disdain. Valerie moves back as he unlocks the door, anticipating his entry, but he remains in the corridor.
“Out,” he orders, his voice as cold as everything else in this place, and Valerie has no choice but to comply.
She casts one last look at the statue in the opposite cell before following the man from the dungeon. Guilt twists in her gut as she remembers how she’d complained about him before they’d ever met. “He just won’t shut up about this Poindexter kid,” she’d said, and hadn’t thought it at all strange when asked to confirm that it was Sidney Poindexter who’d met Danny in the woods. “Yes,” she’d told the Wizard, like an idiot, because she’d been too entranced by shining promises and—
“Come,” barks the man, jolting Valerie from her spiraling thoughts, and she scurries to catch up.
#
The White Wizard is waiting in the courtyard, surrounded by more of his statues. He’s taller than anyone else Valerie’s ever seen, draped in ice-patterned robes with a thick fur mantle. His long hair has been bleached of all colour, as has his pinched face. The cold dawn light catches on his ice-spike crown, and it strikes Valerie now that this king of the Frozen Wastes looks like nothing so much as a corpse.
She wonders how she did not see it before.
The Wizard’s eyes gleam as she approaches. “Walker,” he begins, gesturing to the guard who escorted her from the dungeon, “and his men tore that tavern apart. No one was there. You swore your friends were there.” His tone is dark, dangerous, accusatory.
Surrounded by this forest of statues, it is not hard to remember Sidney Poindexter’s fate. Valerie trembles. “Th-they were there. I promise, I wasn’t lying. They must have left, gone to—”
His scowl sharpens. “Gone where?”
What is it that stills her tongue? Whether hope or guilt, Valerie cannot bring herself to betray her friends further. “I don’t know,” she says miserably. “I left before they said anything. I—I wanted to see you!” And that, at least, is the cold hard truth: she had left her friends, trekked through the Frozen Wastes to the Wizard’s stronghold, and willingly betrayed them.
And for what? Dark promises of valour?
“I see a great strength in you, Valerie Gray,” the Wizard had told her during their first meeting, “A fighter’s spirit. You could be a hero to this land, a champion to those who believe in order and peace. Yes. The Red Knight, I would call you, with armour as bright as your name. And all who oppose my rule, all who dare cause chaos in the Frozen Wastes, would tremble at the sight of you.”
But Valerie is the one trembling now, here in this dead courtyard. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to the frost-coated cobblestones, unsure to whom her words are meant.
“My men will find them,” the Wizard promises. “And I should like to see it for myself.” To Walker, he commands: “Ready my sleigh.” To Valerie again: “You shall join me, of course. To see what happens to those who run.”
#
The sleigh cuts like a knife across the frozen landscape. The Wizard sits proud and unaffected by the cold, his dead gaze locked on the horizon. Valerie cringes at his feet, the wind stinging her cheeks. She dips her head, huddling against the chill.
The world around them is a blurred expanse of snow-whites and ice-blues. The sky overhead is unforgiving grey. All Valerie can hear is the rumble of the reindeer’s hooves and the slice of the runners over the snow. But louder, like a ghost she cannot exorcise, is the memory of Danny’s excitement: “It’s like a winter wonderland, Val! You should have seen it. It’s like stepping into a Christmas card or something—which, ew, Christmas, but you know what I mean—”
She’d known exactly what he meant, but had not believed him. “I’ll prove it,” he’d said, leading her right up to the machine in his basement, and still she refused to believe. “You’re taking this too far,” she had said, and “this isn’t even funny,” and “oh, grow up already.”
He’d called her a coward, then, right before stepping backwards into the green swirl of energy that filled the portal’s surface. Maybe that was why Valerie had hesitated before lunging after him—not because she was afraid, but because his words had wounded her to the point of inaction.
(Had she not hesitated, would they have entered the Frozen Wastes at the same time? Would she have seen this world through his eyes and at his side, instead of stumbling on her own into the poisonous arms of an undead king?)
Valerie hunches lower in the sleigh. The Wizard’s fur cloak brushes her arm but she dares not lean into its comfort. She has never been a coward, but she is deathly afraid now. Afraid that the Wizard, in a fit of pique, might decide to be rid of her. Afraid that he might succeed in his pursuit of her friends. Afraid that he might soon add four more statues to his collection.
His voice cuts through the air like a whip, commanding the sleigh to halt. The reindeer slow, the world becomes still all around them, and Valerie hears a sound incongruous to the Frozen Wastes she has come to know:
Laughter.
“Come,” the Wizard commands, sweeping from the sleigh, and Valerie has no choice but to follow.
#
They find the source of the laughter at the base of a hill, where a dragon is frolicking in the wet snow.
A dragon.
As tall as the trees, sleek as a snake, with gleaming blue scales and curving white crystalline antlers. Its eyes burn with the deep blue fire of the hottest furnaces; its double-rowed teeth and diamond-strong claws look sharp enough to rend the world.
The massive beast looms over the Wizard, its hot breath melting the snow around him. Several steps behind the Wizard, Valerie feels some of her tension seep away as the warm air brushes her skin. She looks up at the dragon, this magnificent force of nature that no one could dare stand against.
“What,” demands the Wizard, entirely unimpressed with the marvel before him, “is this?”
There’s an instance of utter stillness, like the world itself is shocked that the Wizard dare confront such a creature. The dragon itself snorts in bemusement, its pupils growing small. Then it rears back its head.
It’s going to breathe fire, Valerie realizes with wonder and horror both. It’s going to breathe fire at the Wizard—and I’m right behind him—!
Adrenaline shocks her veins as the dragon opens its maw. The Wizard lifts his staff in defiance. Valerie lunges to the side just as the stream of blue fire erupts from the dragon’s throat. Her foot slips in the mushy snow and she tumbles down the slope, the whole world a disorienting roar around her.
And then there’s a crack, and the roar ceases, and Valerie’s tumble is arrested by a large drift of snow at the base of the hill. The whole world goes silent.
It’s over, she thinks, It’s finally over. The Wizard is dead and I can go home—
Which is when the Wizard says, “I”ll ask again: What is this?”
Hopelessness crashes over Valerie again. She pushes herself upright with shaking arms, pries her eyes open, and beholds the Wizard standing unharmed on the hillside. Before him, where once there was a fiercely glittering beast, is a dull-grey stone mound.
A sob cuts through the silence. For the first time, Valerie sees that the dragon was not alone: a gap-toothed boy with a tricorn hat clings to the back of the dragon-turned-statue. “Please,” the boy sniffles, “we were just playing.”
“I expelled all the dragons from the Frozen Wastes,” the Wizard says. “How came this one to be here?”
“She wasn’t a dragon,” the boy protests, “She was my friend!”
Valerie is sore all over from her fall. It takes her two tries to stand, the world swaying unsteadily around her. Somehow, she picks her way through the snow to the foot of the dragon-statue, where she rests one hand against its massive leg. The stone is cold and utterly lifeless beneath her palm.
“We were j-just playing,” the boy continues, “And then F-Frostbite appeared. He said he was here to awaken the g-gifts within us. And then s-s-suddenly, Dora was a dragon!”
“Frostbite,” the Wizard growls, lifting his staff again. All too clearly, Valerie can see what will happen next: another blast of power, and the stone dragon will forever carry a tiny stone rider upon its back.
Why she decides to speak up, Valerie will never know. What chance is there that the Wizard might listen to her protests? She knows there’s nothing she could say that might prevent his action, and yet still she calls up to him, “Please, don’t!”
Staff still raised, the Wizard slowly turns his gaze to her. “And why, Miss Grey, would I spare the life of a traitor?”
She braces herself against the dragon’s leg, straightens her spine. “He’s a child!”
“He has accepted the gifts of the enemy.” But rather than cast his spell of petrification, the Wizard lowers his staff and studies the boy. “Perhaps I will spare your life… for information. Where can I find this Frostbite?”
The boy’s terrified sobbing slows. “I… I don’t know.”
“What were his plans?”
“I don’t know.”
The Wizard makes a dissatisfied sound and lifts his staff again.
“Wait!” cries Valerie, stumbling forward. “My friends—I know where they were going. Jonathan the Thirteenth said he would take them to Clockwork’s Camp.”
Another dreadful stretch of silence as the Wizard weighs her confession. “Good,” he decides at last, and thrusts his staff forward.
With a fresh crack of energy, the boy’s sobs die.
#
The air warms as the sleigh continues its eastward travel. Snow turns to slush turns to mud which sucks at the sleigh’s runners until it can advance no further. The Wizard is most displeased; he throws aside his fur mantle with a growl, then grabs Valerie’s arm and bodily hauls her from the sleigh.
“We’ll ride the reindeer,” he commands, his voice tight with fury as he shoves Valerie towards their mounts.
She’s never ridden a horse before, let alone a reindeer. The beast regards her with dark, baleful eyes as she lays a cautious hand on its flank. “Hello,” she tells it, trying not to betray her apprehension, “I hope you don’t mind carrying me.”
“Stop dawdling,” snaps the Wizard. The reindeer snorts and tosses its head at the sharp words. Valerie flinches, but the beast stills when she mounts it. Then, at another command from the Wizard, the two reindeer leap into motion.
The experience is uncomfortable but also exhilarating. Unburdened by the sleigh, the reindeer now travel even faster than before. The landscape is a blur. Valerie can only cling to the reins and pray she does not fall.
She wonders about Danny’s own journey across these same lands. She had left the inn before learning how Jonathan the Thirteenth intended to lead them to Clockwork’s Camp. Were there horses kept in the stable behind the inn, or perhaps a whole sleigh? Or had Danny and his friends been walking this whole time?
When she closes her eyes, she can still see the dark and smokey tavern interior where Johnny Thirteen had told his stories.“The Wizard calls himself king of the Frozen Wastes, but that’s a lie,” he’d told them, and, “There’s a prophecy that you four kids are going to save us,” and finally, with greatest reverence, “Clockwork is waiting for you.”
Clockwork. A name Valerie had never heard before, and yet one that sent fear rippling down her spine. The so-called true god of these lands, and yet weak enough to be held at bay by the Wizard’s powers. So why was it that the name had so horrified her when she first heard it?
And why is it that the name now fills her with something like hope?
The reindeer slow as they reach the crest of a hill. The Wizard reins in his mount, glowering at something on the horizon. As Valerie’s reindeer slows beside him, she takes in the majesty of the world spread out before her.
No longer can these be called the Frozen Wastes. Rolling hills of pastoral green spread out in all directions. Flowering trees dance in the warm breeze, their petals drifting into a postcard-perfect blue sky. In the very distance, a cerulean ocean glistens in the afternoon sun.
“Oh,” Valerie sighs happily. She risks a glance at the Wizard, who is clenching his staff as if he wants to turn the entire world to stone. But his gaze is locked on one particular point below them. Valerie turns back to the world below and finally sees what has truly drawn out the Wizard’s ire.
Nestled among the hills and trees is a collection of brightly decorated tents.
Clockwork’s Camp.
#
The forest canopy is thick, the trees casting deep shadows, when the Wizard finally calls for another halt. Valerie slides from her reindeer and collapses to her knees, her legs too weak from all the riding. Ever since the sight of Clockwork’s Camp, she has been considering every possibility of escape—but even if the Wizard were to turn his back now, she doesn’t know if she can trust her legs to carry her to safety.
“They will have reached Clockwork by now,” the Wizard mutters, pacing between the trees. “Three of the prophecy within his grasp! But… if he were never to find the fourth?” And he turns to study Valerie with a new, malicious light in his eyes.
Pine needles prickle her palms. The ground she rests on is cold and damp, soaking the knees of her jeans. Moisture from the snowmelt, she thinks, and remembers Johnny Thirteen’s explanation that unending winter had been the Wizard’s curse.
All the way across the melting landscape, Valerie has been seeing signs that the Wizard’s hold on this land is weakening. But now, for the first time, she thinks: Not weakening—broken. And it is this knowledge that gives her the courage to meet his eyes and declare, quiet but certain, “You’re losing.”
Something not unlike fear flashes across the Wizard’s face before his anger reasserts itself. Raising his wand, he intones, “You dare—”
“Go on,” she goads, “Turn me to stone. Turn anyone who defies you to stone, if you can. You won’t get everyone. You won’t get Clockwork—and that’s who matters, isn’t it?”
The Wizard steps menacingly towards her, and Valerie stiffens. But if she has to go out, this is how she chooses to go: defying the man who tricked her into betraying her friends. There’s no way she can actually stop him—she’s nothing more than a kid far in over her head—but that doesn’t mean she has to continue cowering in fear.
“You’re done,” she continues, “I’m just sad I won’t get to see your defeat for myself.” And with the last of her strength, Valerie rises to her feet, because she damn well won’t go out kneeling before this man.
The last thing she sees before shutting her eyes is the Wizard’s staff extending towards her. Valerie braces herself.
Overhead, leaves shudder.
In the distance, dogs bay.
A horn sounds, the promise of an army gathering to carry out Valerie’s promise.
“We’ll do it,” Danny whispers in her ear, an echo of the promise he made in that dark, smokey tavern. “Whatever it takes. We’ll find Clockwork and stop the Wizard and save this world.”
Yes, she thinks, I believe you will. I’m just sorry I won’t see it for myself.
And then there’s the inevitable crack of power, and she thinks no more.
