☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:
🍵 Alice Spills the Tea: The Legend of the Thirteenth Bell
Ah, darlings, gather close. No, closer. Yes, right there - by the flickering candlelight, where the shadows are thickest and the air smells faintly of ink, roses, and a hint of danger. I have a story for you tonight that has been buried so deep in the dark corners of the world of 4EverMore ( or the otherworld - or whatever we are calling worlds of makebelieve and magic nowadays), even the gods dare not whisper it.
But I? I cackle in the face of forbidden tales and drink scandal like morning tea.
Let me tell you the Legend of the Thirteenth Bell.
A Village that Vanished
Once, nestled in the heart of the Bloodshade Valley, where the mist clings to the bones of the trees and time seems to slither sideways, there stood a village called Elderglen. It was a quiet, oddly cheery little place for such a cursed pocket of the world. But oh, don't let that fool you.
Every hour was marked by the peal of twelve silver bells in the village square. Crafted by the first blacksmith in our world, forged in moonfire, and bound with blessings. They were said to keep the darkness at bay.
Until one night, a thirteenth bell tolled.
It was not made by mortal hands. No one saw it hung. It was just... there. Blacker than pitch, twisted like bone and shadow, and utterly silent - until the stroke of midnight.
When it rang, the earth wept blood.
And the village of Elderglen vanished.
The Bellmaker's Pact
Here’s where it gets positively deliciously dreadful, my sweets. Rumor has it, the original bellmaker had a son. A son who was cursed with a voice that could summon the dead and a shadow that didn’t follow him, but led.
Desperate to save the boy, the bellmaker struck a deal with something deep beneath the inkbound roots of the world. Not a demon, not a god - something older. Something hungry.
The bargain? A thirteenth bell in exchange for the boy’s life.
And oh, the being honored its side. The boy lived. But the bell? It was a key. A key that, when rung, unlocked the door between life and death, dreams and nightmares, sanity and madness.
When it rang, it summoned Her.
The Whispering One
No name. No form. Just whispers, soft as silk and sharp as daggers. They say she wore a veil stitched from the sighs of sleeping children and a crown of thorns that wept red roses. She didn't walk - she glided. And where she passed, the bells of the dead began to ring.
She danced through Elderglen.
And the village, every soul, every child, every creature, every root and stone- danced with her.
They say they still dance, somewhere in the shadows. Trapped between seconds, twirling to a tune only the mad can hear.
And the Bell Still Waits
Sometimes, if you pass through Bloodshade Valley on a moonless night, you’ll hear it - not twelve chimes, but thirteen. If you count them, if you dare to listen to the final toll... well.
You’re already marked.
Marked by the Thirteenth Bell.
So remember this, my darlings: not all fairy tales are safe. Some are traps wrapped in lullabies. Some are bells that never should have rung. And some, like this one, are a warning whispered through time by yours truly.
Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
And possible collector of haunted bells. Shhh… don’t tell Sonia.
Hmmm… and where the heck has she been, anyway?! I wonder if she forgot that we’re all Immortal around here and I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it hard to believe that a little thing like an apocalypse would have taken her - or her King of Shadows - out!
Just sayin’.
🌟
Alice’s teacup wobbled dangerously on the edge of the table. Hair in wild disarray, eyes wide enough to drain the moonlight, she leapt from her chair yelling. I need Hot, strong tea- now - and every haunted bell in the studio needs to be locked up.
The staff scrambled like panicked mice, teapots tipping, parchment fluttering, and bells jingling in alarm. Chaos was an art form here, and Alice was both the artist and the subject.
The door creaked. In strolled Twisted Ivy, carrying tea.
Alice froze. Her gaze narrowed to a knife-edge.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Pip, ever helpful, peeked behind Ivy. “I let her in, Alice. She had the tea.”
Tea. Acceptable. Barely. Alicesniffed the tea then sipped once, then set the cup down with careful precision, all while sending Ivy a look that could peel paint.
“I heard you were telling the story about the bells today,” Ivy said casually. “I just wanted to know if it was… true.”
Alice’s devil eyes, sharp as daggers, fixed on her. “And why do you want to know? What, are you a detective now? A reporter?”
Ivy rolled her eyes so dramatically she nearly passed out. “Relax. Just tell me if it’s real, or real in that crazy head of yours.”
Alice’s smile was all sharp corners. “Lucky for you, I’ll take that as a compliment today.” She muttered something indistinct into her tea.
“What was that?” Ivy prompted.
A casual flail of hands, a tilt of the cup, a pause that seemed to stretch time itself. “Alright,” Alice said finally, “spill it. You didn’t wander in here for lore appreciation. What are you up to?”
Ivy brightened, words spilling faster than tea in a tipped cup. “Well, I thought maybe I’d do a backup story. A follow-up - ”
Alice’s disbelief was practically audible. She cut Ivy off mid-sentence. “And where, pray tell, would you be publishing this little follow-up?”
Her grin widened, full Cheshire. “I’m glad you asked - ”
Green smoke puffed into the studio. Rumplestiltskin appeared, laughing, grinning, chaos incarnate.
“Alice. Dear Alice.” He slung an arm over Ivy’s shoulders. “I was hoping to arrive before my darling sister to deliver the good news. She is now officially a storyteller in the Immortal Gazette’s upcoming New Era.”
Alice blinked. “New… era?”
Rumple spun theatrically. “A new dawn. A new day.” The words fell like a ridiculous commercial jingle, and Ivy laughed.
Alice snapped. “Wait. What? Absolutely not. We can’t work with her. She’s unstable. Not a single second of trust.”
“I’m standing right here,” Ivy pointed out.
Alice ignored her.
“You can’t trust Loki,” Ivy added casually, “that Norse chaos god - yet here you are making gooey faces at him.”
Alice gagged theatrically, said nothing, stared at Rumple, then Ivy, then back at Rumple then said " how many new era people will there be?"
Rumple rubbed his hands together with gleeful menace. “About ten new crew members,” he announced. “And let’s just say… it’s going to be fun.”
Alice’s grin spread wide. “Yes. Yes, darling. Fun indeed.” She extended a hand, shook his, and slipped one of her haunted bells into his pocket with quiet precision.
She pulled back, still smiling, still sharp, still very much in control.
“Good evening,” she said lightly, lifting her teacup. “Time to get back to work.”
Somewhere, deep in the shadows of the studio, the faint thirteenth toll echoed. Alice’s smile never faltered.
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