It only took a few seconds before the door swung inwards. Alaz glanced through, Frost’s narrow head peering around his waist, but no one waited to meet them. Only a small, dimly lit foyer about the same circumference as the tree it was enclosed within that smelled slightly musty, like cool earth. He stepped tentatively inside, Frost right on his heels. With a hissing snap, the door slammed shut behind them. Everything was plunged into darkness.
The blackness only lasted a few moments. Correction, Alaz realized, it was never dark in the room to begin with. Phosphorescent plants lined the stairwell leading down, he assumed into the tree’s root system, their glow enough for him to see.
 

Her eyes traveled out and took in the view of the lake. The water looked normal, but—there! A glimmer of blue caught her eye. The stone was here. Right here in the lake. The only question was how deep was it?
Alaz came to stand behind her. “Is it there?” His voice sounded slightly hoarse, as if he’d been shouting her name. Oddly enough, Louise could not remember hearing him. Either that or she had chosen to ignore him in her mad dash across the cave. She hoped he wouldn’t be reporting her behavior to Victoria.
“Yes,” Louise replied. “But I have no idea how deep the water is.” She stared at the wavelets lapping on the shore, as a plan formulated in her head. She turned to Alaz. “I’m going in to get it. Do you have a rope we can use so you can hold me?” She stared at him defiantly, expecting him to make some foolish, chivalrous offer to claim the job himself. Instead, Alaz wordlessly produced a coil of rope from inside his jacket. Louise stared. “You’re not going to argue with me?”
“No,” said Alaz nonchalantly. “Your plan makes pretty good sense. It would be much easier for me to pull you out of the water should something happen than the other way around. No offense, that’s just how our anatomies work.”
Louise felt pleased that her idea was working out in ways she hadn’t even expected. Any thoughts of berating Alaz vanished from the back of her mind. Removing her cloak, she accepted the rope and knotted it around her waist. Alaz took the free end as she stepped into the water. A few feet out, there was a sharp drop. Taking a deep breath, she submerged and searched for her quarry.
The icy water froze her skin and burned her muscles as she pulled herself further beneath the surface. She could make out a shimmer of blue light ahead of her and she estimated it to be about twelve feet deep. Bobbing to the surface, she gasped for breath. After reassuring Alaz, she filled her lungs with air and dove beneath the surface again. The water stung as she moved her way down to the bed where a large sapphire stone lay. She grasped the sides of it and pulled. It came free reluctantly, and when it did, she was surprised that it was so light. Lungs screaming, she pushed off for the surface.
 

However, her ambitions had just suffered the worst setback they ever had, and Natasha was not one to take it gracefully. She slammed the door shut with a mighty bang.
“Is all that hullabaloo really necessary?” a slightly irked, pompous voice asked.
Natasha whirled, emerald eyes bulging in barely contained rage. Sparks flashed around her clenched fists. Seated in one of her carved mahogany chairs, was King Maximillian III. He had done away with the wide-brimmed hat in favor of a more conservative green bowler. He pleasantly lifted a cup of steaming tea to his mouth. Natasha’s anger only increased when she noticed he was using her china set.
“Yes, it is.” She hissed in a dangerously low voice. “I can do whatever I wish in my room, Your Majesty.”
Max smacked his lips, clearly having just burned his tongue. He took only a brief moment to blow on the tea, before speaking as if she hadn’t. “You seem in a rather foul mood today.”
All her original rage flooded back through her veins. She could feel it pulsing, like a living creature, just under her skin. The green of her irises was slowly fading to a glowing crimson. “The first stage of the plan has failed, and not a single. Person. Has. Died.” The anger took ahold of her tongue, spitting expletives that would make a sailor blush. “How. Can. This. BE!” With monstrous effort, she shook the fury away. It snaked down her limbs, leaving her muscles cold, but the red vanished from her eyes. Her pupils, however, were still reptilian slits.
“My dear Natasha,” Max waved a hand at her, as if her ire was a merely trivial matter. “Do calm yourself. This frantic pacing is quite unbecoming.”
Stopping in her continuation of said pacing, Natasha jerked her head, fixing him with her death glare. “Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!” she punctuated her exasperated and incensed statement by bringing her fist down onto the mahogany table. The wood didn’t shatter – after all, she had it specially made to withstand the force of her strength – but the impact was enough to jolt almost everything else in the vicinity.
Max looked at her reproachfully as some tea splashed onto his brand new neon leggings.

 

Before everything went dark, Natasha released her human shell, breaking out and shedding it like a snake would its old skin.
Hard-tipped emerald green rippled along her limbs. Her face, while still maintaining that look of malicious satisfaction, warped and lengthened into a thin, arrow-like countenance. Wings now framed her scaly shoulders like a leathery cloak. As she dropped down onto all fours, claws tearing into the forest floor, a long and serpentine tail lashed around to strike at the mermaid. The massive green dragon’s eyes gleamed infernal red.