Princesses, castles, love spells- the key points that seemingly everyone remembers from their favorite fairy tales. We have all heard the stories, whispered to children as they lie down for bed, read once again when we are older under the cover of night. But what is a fairy tale, really? When someone thinks “Fairy Tale”, they think glass slippers, red hoods, genie lamps, and magic wands. However, is that really all there is to a story?
After all, where would Snow White be without the poison apple?
The key component to a fairy story is the one thing that no one ever thinks about; the villain. The person who gives the story a true purpose. Whether they be a wicked witch on a broomstick or a lowly wolf hiding in the shadow. But then, where do villains fit in? After all, they too have heard the stories. They know that good always triumphs over evil: and yet still they choose to curse the needle of the spinning wheel. So, in truth, they must already know the outcome of the story. They set themselves up for failure so that the hero or heroine might have their happy ending. And that poses another question; if they know what they are doing, is the villain really a villain?
That’s where I come in.
You see, villains have to come from somewhere. The evil queen must have had some sort of life before marrying the king. The sea witch wasn’t just there one day. Villains are a mystery that has never been solved. A question that has yet to be answered.
My job is to answer it. My name is Leda, and I discovered evil.

It began- as all stories do- a long time ago in a land far, far away.
I lived on an island, in a small village just next to mermaid lagoon. Yes, most people think of the famous “Peter Pan”. And yes, it was that same island. However, his story came much later. In fact, all stories came much later. This is the story of how the stories were created, after all. Neverland would not exist for another hundred years.
My father wasn’t around much, he spent most of his time traveling. Mother and I didn’t mind, for sadness just didn’t exist at the time. Occasionally, the man would return bearing gifts. I was always given small things: a seashell from the shores of Atlantis, a stone from the bottom of the enchanted lake, a strange looking root from the Enchanted Forest. But I loved every little trinket brought to me. It was as if I had small pieces of the world on my bedside table.
My mother preferred to remain close to home. She had grown up on the island, which we called Terra Viridis, or Land of Green. The earth was the most fertile in the realm (if you could call it a realm), and the trees brought a sense of welcome and peace to all whom they enveloped in their arms. Mother could often be found in the wood, dancing with the breeze and humming gleeful melodies until her feet grew sore. I once asked her if she worried about someday being unable to walk through the grass.
“Oh, Leda,” She had replied with a smile, “I need not worry when I can hear the trees singing to me. Besides, you know as well as anyone that worry is nothing more than a myth.”
You see, that’s how it was in my time. We lived in a land where worry, sorrow and hate were all legends. No one knew fear or despair, or even the slightest twinge of anger. To them, it did not exist. All anyone knew was happiness and content. There was no crime, no jealousy, and no government. We had no need for government when all we knew was peace. Perhaps one might think it was better in those times.
It wasn’t.
I had pondered the concept of goodness my entire life. I was always told that the life we lived was a good one. But I always wondered, what was there to compare it to? If everyone lived a good life, or even a great one, was where really such a thing as good? My parents brushed off these questions when I was younger.
“Curiosity can be a good thing.” They told me. “But in this case, there is no need for it. Why would we need anything to contradict what we have?”
“Life is full of contradictions! For every sunrise there is a sunset, for every woman a man to tame her. But what is there for goodness? What is goodness, anyway?” My questions had never been posed before, as far as I knew. And it upset me when they could give me no answer.
And there was the problem. I was upset, an emotion caused by sadness and anger, which I had been taught were myths. This discovery merely gave me more initiative to find answers.
A few years later, I began to have odd dreams. Strangely vivid scenes of darkness and an overwhelming despair. Fear overcame me and I often awoke in the middle of the night, still breathing heavily but having no memory of why I was so scared.

My savior came in the form of my grandfather. Christmas was on its way and we had a gift for him that took the form of his favorite cakes. Mother had made the specially, following grandmother’s old recipe to the tee. However, Grandfather lived in the far side if the island. Mother was eight months pregnant with her second child, so she asked me to make the journey in her place.
Grandfather welcomed me with a warm smile, easing my mind in the way that only grandparents could. “Come in, child. It has been far too long. And you have brought a gift!” I ran into his open arms and sighed in true content. It was a feeling that I hadn’t had in quite some time.
He invited me inside and sat me down in my favorite chair. “Grandfather, I must confess. This gift is not the only reason I have come.”
His wise eyes crinkled at the sides in a slight smile and I knew that this man would listen to me. So I told him my story. I told him of the unnatural feelings that I got when ignored or rejected and of my theory on contradictions. However, what truly caught his attention was the dreams.
“Nightmares.” He said thoughtfully.
“Nightmares? What are those?”
“Bad dreams. Dreams that leave you restless, and often scared. Dreams that cause dangerous thoughts.” Grandfather told me.
I had scoffed at him. There were no such thing as bad dreams. Dreams were supposed to be wishes you make while asleep. But, then again, there was no such thing as fear, either. I wondered how he knew of such things. No one had ever had a nightmare before, just as no one had ever had a bad thought before.
Grandfather had left the village long ago, telling us that he wished to be alone, so that he might find a way to be more in touch with the earth. He was like mother in that way, always relishing in nature’s beauty. I did not see him often, he came down only for my birthday and when father came to visit.
I never knew my grandmother. She was as much a mystery to me as bad emotions; something that no one talked about unless it involved a story. It was almost as if she had never existed at all. Perhaps she hadn’t. Perhaps she, too, was a myth.
I had never once questioned my family about her, it wasn’t any of my business. But, in a moment of desperation, I chose to voice my thoughts.
With a thoughtful smile, the man seemed to look right through me. “Oh, I don’t remember her. She was erased.” Erased? Did that mean she died? I wasn’t sure, but the sun was setting. I had to return to the village.
Waving a goodbye to the man, I made my way out the door as quickly as possible without causing suspicion. As is suspicion even existed, for what was there to suspect?

The path home appeared much longer than it had been that morning. It winded and twisted through the trees, but upon looking back it was perfectly straight. Something formed in the pit of my stomach. Not fear. Dread, perhaps?
The fog grew thicker as the last rays of the sunlight disappeared over the mountains. I was still walking. I had not known the island was this long. A whisper floated through the trees. The wind. But what wind? The leaves were not dancing. They weren’t even wavering.
I turned my head back towards the path and stopped in my tracks. The road had disappeared into the fog. I could no longer see the ground beneath my feet nor the stars above my head. I could see nothing. I was lost.
Lost, child, and now you are found.
A light appeared seemingly out of nowhere and grew rapidly to an almost blindingly bright glow. I put my hand up to cover my eyes, and everything went black.

When I awoke, there was nothing. No light, no trees, no fog. Just darkness all around me. And yet, I felt strangely . . . at home.
Welcome, child.
I jumped to my feet, searching around me in frantic desperation to find where the voice came from. “Where are you? Who are you?”
I am the keeper.
“The keeper of what?” I shouted, feeling a speck of annoyance. Annoyance. . . I had never felt that before. Was it also am impossible emotion?
So many questions you have, child. And yet, you have yet to ask those you wish to be answered.
“Wish to be. . .” My eyes widened in realization. “Do you know? About the contradictions?” There was a pause, and then-
Let me tell you a story, child.

Long ago, or not so long ago, if you will, the world was in balance. You, child, were correct about your so-called “contradictions”. For everything there is an opposite. Darkness and light, life and death, man and woman. Even goodness had a contradiction. It was known as evil.
Evil was the darkness. It was hatred and anger, depression and despair. Even a simple irritation was categorized as such. Evil was the cause of crime and famine and war. But it brought balance. It contradicted by goodness. By love and happiness, peace and kindness. Together, they kept the world the way it was meant to be.
But like all opposites, the two were always against each other. They soon forgot that they needed the other to survive, and began doing their best to wipe their enemy from existence. Like most stories, good was bound to overcome evil.
The spirits of goodness banished evil, and all memory of it to the depths, never to return. They rejoices, having won the war that had been fought since before the beginning.
However, in doing so, they threw the world out of balance. The world became a wonderful place. Too wonderful. People did not know sadness anymore, so they could no longer relish in the feeling of happiness.
The spirits created me to guard the gate to the otherworld, where they banished the spirits of evil. But now the gates must be opened again, or I fear that the world may be destroyed forever.

You, child, have felt evil. You are the connection needed to open the gates.
Evil. I spoke the name allowed, testing it, and found that it left a bad taste in my mouth. That was good, wasn’t it? It meant that the gates could be opened.
I believed the voice, though the reason was unknown to me. Perhaps I had known all along, had been told before in my nightmares. Whatever the reason, I knew what I had to do.
I looked around for a door or gateway, still finding nothing but darkness. Of course, a gate powerful enough to contain the darkness of the world would not dare to take corporeal form. So I tried another way.
I closed my eyes picturing a hallway. With black, swirling walls and no windows, it left a nasty feeling of impending doom. At the end of the hallway, I could make out the outline of a door. Taking a leap of faith, hoping, praying that I was correct, I took a step forward. Then another. Then another. I continued to walk, my eyes squeezed shut, until I stood in from of the door.
“Wait.” I stopped, not daring open my eyes. “You were created to guard the gateway. What happens when it is opened?”
I shall be erased from existence, until the spirits find a new purpose for me. Leda, promise me that you will not let this happen again. The world must remain in balance. Goodness needs no guidance, it is meant to stand on its own. Evil will need a firm hand. Someone to make sure it is kept strong and sure. Be that hand. Bring stability back to the universe.
I nodded, afraid to speak. The door was becoming clearer, and I could just make out a handle. I took a deep breath, reached out, and opened the door.