The moon hung low above Jamestown, its pale glow casting long shadows between the crude wooden structures of the settlers' fort. All was unnaturally quiet, save for the low hiss of wind rustling the leaves outside Governor Ratcliffe's tent.
Unseen in the treetops beyond the walls, Helios crouched atop a sturdy branch, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the shadow of his hood. A current of wind snaked through the air at his fingertips, guided by his magic.
He held out a hand, whispering, "Carry my voice."
Inside the governor's tent, the air grew colder. Curtains flapped slightly even though no breeze should've stirred within. The candlelight flickered.
Then the voice came—low, amused, and unmistakably inhuman.
"It has been a while, Governor. I see you've kept yourself very busy."
Ratcliffe jolted, knocking over his goblet. He stumbled to his feet, wild eyes darting about the room. "You again! Where are you?! Show yourself!"
Outside, Helios smirked and replied through the enchanted wind, "No need for dramatics. I'm not here for theatrics, just conversation. Though I must admit… I'm impressed. You've come quite far since we last spoke."
Ratcliffe's expression twisted into one of pride. "Of course I have. With every passing day, these… creatures obey me more readily. My darkness strengthens. Soon, the gold will be mine—and England will kneel before me as King."
Helios chuckled softly. "An ambitious plan to be sure. Conquer England with monsters born of darkness. Poetic, really."
Then, he shifted his tone ever so slightly—calm, probing.
"Tell me, then, Governor… Why did you pull back your forces during the last assault on the tribe? If you had pushed a little more then I believe you might have won the battle and rid yourself of those who stand against you. So what made you decide to do such a thing?"
The silence that followed was heavy, laced with confusion and dread. Helios could hear Ratcliffe's breath hitch. The man stepped back from the center of his tent, as though shielding himself from something unseen.
"I… I didn't," Ratcliffe admitted. "I gave no such order."
Helios narrowed his eyes, his mind now fully alert. "Oh? Then what happened?"
Ratcliffe's face contorted in anger and confusion. "It was as if… something seized control from me. A presence… darker than mine. My link to the Heartless was torn away for a moment, like a hand yanking the reins from mine."
He pounded the table with a clenched fist.
"They fled. The beasts. Like frightened dogs. I don't know what magic those savages used, but I swear it—someone else stole my command! I must find out who and destroy them!"
Outside the camp, Helios' expression hardened. He said nothing for a long moment.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself. 'Not him. Not his doing.'
Inwardly, alarms were already going off. 'If Ratcliffe wasn't the one who pulled the Heartless back… who did?' The timing had been perfect—right when the tribe should've fallen, the creatures retreated. 'Was it Maleficent?'
'If it was her…' He grimaced. That would complicate things. She wouldn't risk a direct hand unless there was something here to gain. 'Could she know that Pocahontas is a Princess of Hearts?'
But if it wasn't her… then someone else had found a way to manipulate Heartless command. That was a far bigger problem. Because Helios only needed Ratcliffe to be capable of that. Ratcliffe was a disposable pawn and having another piece on the board he couldn't control would negatively affect his plans.
He didn't like unknown variables. They made things hard to predict.
Back inside the tent, Ratcliffe began pacing in circles, his expression jittery. "They whisper to me, you know. The creatures. They promise power. Obedience. But they lie, don't they?"
Helios leaned against the tree trunk, folding his arms. His voice drifted again through the wind.
"The Heartless don't serve. They consume. As long as you're useful, they'll follow. But the moment you falter—"
He snapped his fingers, letting the ominous meaning hang in the air.
Ratcliffe scowled. "I will not be usurped. I will lead. They will follow me because I will be the one to find the key—the power that binds this land."
Helios arched a brow, intrigued. "The key?"
Ratcliffe's grin returned. "There is power here. They've felt it—like a pulse beneath the soil. The trees whisper. The river watches. This land… hides something. And they wish for me to grant it to them in exchange for everything I desire."
Helios remained quiet, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. So the heartless know that there is a Princess of Hearts here... but are not clear on who it is. Good. That meant Ratcliffe's threat, while rising, remained manageable.
"As always you're playing a dangerous game, Governor, but I look forward to where you'll end up. May your heart be your guiding key," he said aloud.
"I've already won," Ratcliffe spat. "When I crush John, that girl, and her tribe, I will claim what's mine. Then not even England's king will dare stand in my presence."
Helios said nothing more. The wind stilled. The voice vanished.
Ratcliffe looked around, suddenly alone again.
Back in the trees, Helios leapt into the branches higher above, silently making his exit.
"If it wasn't Maleficent," he whispered to himself, "then someone else is tugging the darkness. And if they're here… I need to find out what they want—before they get in my way."
As he vanished into the dark forest once more, heading back toward the tribe, a distant memory stirred in the back of his mind.
The words of Grandmother Willow.
"The river splits. One path brings pain, the other sacrifice. But both lead to truth."
Pocahontas has chosen the path of pain… but it was I who placed her upon it. Now let's make sure she's able to make it to the end.
He'd seen enough. It was time for the actor to take their places. The final act was beginning.