Текст книги "Cinderella Dressed in Ashes"
Автор книги: Cameron Jace
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Cinderella Dressed in Ashes
The Grimm Diaries 2
by
Cameron Jace
PROLOGUE
A Splinter of Mirrors
The Children of Hamlin didn’t care for the woman in the luxurious black veil.
She claimed that Charmwill Glimmer sent her to tell them a crucially important story, one that would expose a great secret about the evil in the Fairyworld.
Still, the children didn’t like that most of her face was concealed. They could only see her distant blue eyes and long eyelashes, and the silken white gloves she wore.
“Where is Charmwill?” the lisping girl asked suspiciously. “Why can’t he tell us the story himthelf?”
“Charmwill is on a faraway quest,” the woman said. “It might take him years before he comes back.”
“That explains why he didn’t appear last Christmas,” a boy supposed. “Santa Claus was worried about him.”
Another boy suggested Charmwill was fighting the evil entities that wanted to steal the Book of Beautiful Lies.
“No, that’s not why he’s away,” a girl with gaping front teeth interrupted. “He’s with The Boy Who was a Shadow, right?”
“Something like that,” the woman nodded. Her voice was flat and lacked passion. She wasn’t as cheerful as Charmwill, reminding them of their overly conservative parents in Hamlin. She hadn’t even allowed them to play with her veil the way Charmwill let them play with his beard—and she didn’t have a parrot!
“So do you also have a Book of Beautiful Lies?” a boy asked.
“I’m afraid not,” the woman replied, a bit confused.
“Then how will you tell us your story?” the gapped tooth girl frowned.
“Charmwill helped me memorize it,” the woman answered.
“But Charmwill said stories had to be written down,” a girl from the back interrupted. “He said memorizing stories wasn’t enough, because one person tells the story to another, then another, and then another. In the end, the final story will come out different than the original.”
The mysterious woman sighed. She was doing her best not to burst out screaming, “trust me!” She inhaled all the air she could, “I made sure I memorized this story word for word. It’s an important one,” she tilted her head slightly, gazing at them from behind the fire. There was something strange about her eyes. “May I ask why you all call him Charmwill?”
The children laughed mockingly at her, “because he is the famous Charmwill Glimmer, the best storyteller in the world.” A girl said and raised her hands in the air. Other kids imitated her.
“So he has never told you his real name?” The woman’s eyes dimmed with confusion.
“What are you talking about?” the lisping girl asked. “That is his real name!”
The woman squinted behind the fire. She was thinking while rubbing her chin over the veil. A moment later, her eyes widened, “I was just joking with you. Of course, that’s his real name. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell my story,” she rubbed her hands together with fake enthusiasm.
The boys and girls sighed, a bit sleepy, mumbling a ‘yes’ or two between the lot of them. They doubted anyone could match Charmwill’s skills in storytelling, but thought they would give her the chance to try.
She began, “Once upon a time…”
“Is this going to be boring?” the lisping girl asked. “All stories that start with ‘Onth upon a time’ end with ‘And they lived happily ever after.’ It’s so boring.”
“So lame,” a boy commented.
“As if we don’t know how it’s going to end,” the girl from the back said. “That’s why we like Charmwill’s stories. They are different. Full of darkness, humor, intrigue and mystery.”
“Yeth. You never know who’s who in his stories,” the lisping girl said. “And it’s hard to tell who’s good and who is evil.”
“Oh, so you don’t like it when you can differentiate between good and evil?” the woman inquired.
“Charmwill said there is nothing absolutely good or evil,” the girl in the back said. “It’s our choice to make it one way or the other.”
“Indeed,” the woman in the veil looked like she was smiling behind the luxurious fabric. “Evil is a point of view.”
“So why does everyone else tell us happy and clichéd storieth? Who do they think we are? Children?” the lisping girl protested.
The woman in the veil sighed again. It was a longer sigh, and it exposed her lack of patience with children. Her blue eyes grew more distant as if she secretly loathed them. “When I was your age, I used to love those happy, fluffy stories,” she said, almost regretfully.
“I bet you don’t like them that much now,” the girl in the back said.
“You bet I don’t,” the woman in the veil rolled her eyes. “Like I said, Charmwill told me to tell you this story, so it’s full of all the horrible things you just asked for. In fact,” she leaned closer, the children’s reflection showing in her eyes, waving in the flaring fire. “This particular story has the devil in it.”
A couple of children leaned back as if the woman breathed fire in their faces. The lisping girl bravely stretched her hands to protect the rest.
“So this story is really scary?” the girl from the back asked.
“Very scary,” the woman’s voice changed and her eyes sparkled. “You can tell from the very first sentence. Listen: On a dark and stormy night…”
The wind hissed and puffed around the fire, and the children sensed a dark spirit behind them in the forest.
Slowly, they leaned forward. Scary was exciting and fun. They were willing to listen.
“On a dark and stormy night in Hell,” the woman in the veil began. “The devil was bored.”
The girl in the back omitted a laugh. It sounded as if she was sneezing. The woman threw her a piercing look and the girl froze.
“The devil, who was nothing but a short and ugly looking troll, spent most of his time trimming his nails, shooting darts, popping his knuckles, and rubbing the three little hairs he had left on his head,” the woman in the veil elaborated. “He tried to fish in one of Hell’s many lakes but the fish came out fried. Nothing eased his boredom until one of his students brought him a gift, a mirror.
“He hadn’t seen such a mirror before, and being infatuated by his own image, the devil played chess with his reflection. It was an intense game. His reflection was smart, and it replicated almost all of his moves and then added its own genius touch. Surprisingly, the devil, who thought he’d never lose a game—for he was master of evil play—, lost to his reflection in the mirror,” the woman’s eyes scanned the children, making sure they followed with attention. The children felt unsettled by her voice. It had enough power to cement their feet to the ground. Her voice was the color of fear.
“Appalled by his reflection beating him in the chess game, the devil asked about the origin of the mirror,” the woman continued. “In his time, humans hadn’t invented mirrors yet. Someone from an unknown realm had sent him this mirror. The students who found it claimed a lady had just flung it while walking in a burning garden.”
“The devil pulled the mirror along and made his students look into it. The mirror turned their faces into ugly shapes like those you see in a funhouse; only this one truly reflected the bad side in people. Amused, he directed the mirror toward a landscape known for its beauty. Instead of seeing beautiful greens, he saw the place as if it were boiling like rotten spinach then combusting into flames.”
“’Whose mirror is this?’ the devil asked.
“One of his students claimed that the mirror whispered to her when she held it. She said the mirror claimed it had a name, the Anderson Mirror.
“The devil began to search for this Anderson but couldn’t find him because there were too many people who shared the name.
“Eventually the devil decided he didn’t care who’d invented such a wicked mirror. He intended to use it, so he walked to the edge of Hell and gazed through his telescope, peering over at Heaven. People were always too happy and giggly there, drinking milk from vines dangling from rainbow colored trees, swimming in milky rivers, and lazily having the time of their lives—well, afterlives in their case.
“Two ideas popped in the devil’s head in the shape of two ugly horns—that’s how he got his horns, by the way. They ended up being permanent tumors on his head. One of the ideas he forgot and could never remember. The other is the one I want to talk to you about.”
The girl in the back snickered again, making two horns with her finger. A few children imitated her. The woman in the veil directed one of her scary looks over the crowd of children again so they would stay silent.
“A big smile shone on the devil’s reddened face,” the woman continued, trying her best to appeal to the children. “He took the mirror and went over to the edge of Heaven, focusing it on people’s faces so they’d see the worst in themselves. He thought it would be a good way to tempt some of the people over there to join him. The devil never believed himself to be evil, actually. He thought all he did was bring out the worst in people, just as this Anderson Mirror did.
“Peering, like a peeping tom, at the pearly gates, the devil lost his balance and dropped the mirror.”
The children, still listening to the story, held their breath.
“The mirror fell all the way down to earth,” the woman stretched her arms like a magician toward the skies.
The children held hands and stared up at the night sky, worried.
“The evil mirror splintered into millions and millions of shards onto the world,” she narrated. “Each splinter tinier than a grain of sand, but filled with enough darkness to consume one’s soul.”
The children blinked their eyes, still staring at the sky above.
“The mirror’s splinters entered people’s eyes without their knowledge. No one got hurt, because evil never hurts in the beginning. It stays with you and grows until its final sting drops you to the floor.”
The children couldn’t take it anymore, lowering their heads and rubbing their eyes as if waking up from a bad dream. Some made their friends check their eyes for splinters.
“Although the troll-looking devil lost the mirror, he was in awe,” the masked woman said. “He didn’t have to do the hard work of making people evil, because the mirror, whose source was unknown, filled the world with evilness. It bothered him at first that he wasn’t the Prince of Darkness anymore but he tried not to think about it. There was greater darkness, pure, penetrating, and shining like a mirror.
“The people with splinters in their eyes were many,” the woman in the veil said. “They didn’t really notice at first but when their eyes glowed with a golden tint, the evil in them surfaced.”
The woman in the veil’s eyes flickered for a moment. She caught her breath and then asked, “Do you know of a woman called Justina?”
“Yeth,” the lisping girl said. “She is the Godmother of Justice. She tried to balance the good and evil in the world with a scale with one pan filled with apples, the other with snakes. Charmwill told us storieth about her.”
“Well, in that particular day when the splinters filled the world, Justina’s scale changed. The snakes on one side of the pan grew bigger and much heavier than the apples, so big that the scales almost broke.”
The children let out a muffled shriek.
“Who made this mirror?” the girl from the back asked.
“That’s the one question that’s been troubling everyone in the world,” the woman in the veil smirked and leaned back, “fairytale characters, the most.”
“Did the splinters reach them, too?” a boy said.
“But of course. It changed the destinies of characters, and turned some of the good into evil.”
“But you said evil is a point of view,” the girl from the back insisted.
“Well, it’s hard to explain,” the woman in the veil said. “Someday, when you grow up, you’ll understand what I mean.”
The children murmured to each other that her answer was typical of grown ups. Whenever adults were caught contradicting themselves they had to give vague answers like: it is hard to explain or you will understand when you grow up. “The effect the splinters had on the Fairyworld was one of the reasons why The Grimm Brothers forged the fairy tales into the happy stories you hate,” the woman in the veil added.
“But there must be some kind of cure,” the lisping girl cried out, “or maybe there is a hero who could rid the world of the evil splinters.”
“There is neither,” the woman in the veil said, sounding happy about it. “People think they can do something about the evil in the world, but they can’t. The splinters are always there. But,” she raised a finger. “There is a myth that the creator of the mirror left a clue somewhere.”
“A clue?” the children inquired.
“Yes.”
“What is a clue?” a boy asked.
“A clue is a hidden knowledge that serves as a solution to a big problem,” she said.
“What does that mean? We don’t understand,” most children protested.
“Shut up. A clue is a clue,” the woman lost her temper, only for a brief moment. “That clue was the secret to controlling the splinters. Of course, both the so-called good and evil folks wanted to get their hands on that clue. The good people thought if they find the clue, they’ll be able to save the world from all its darkness. The so-called evil people wanted to use it on a greater scale. They thought of actually ruling the world if they found the clue. Can you imagine how powerful one would be if they had control over the splinters in people’s eyes?”
“I bet the devil wanted it for himself,” the girl in the back said.
“Very true,” the woman in the veil said. “But I wouldn’t give the devil that much credit. The evil in the splinters was beyond his control. This was a power like no other.”
“What kind of clue did the Creator leave?” the lisping girl rubbed her chin.
The woman under the veil laughed, “I can’t tell you, because like every one else, I want the mirror. Let’s just say it’s hidden somewhere in the Dreamworld,” she whispered.
“That means that the Boy Who was a Shadow can get it,” a boy said. “He is a Dreamhunter.”
The woman’s forehead wrinkled slightly. “How do you know that he’s a Dreamhunter? Did Charmwill tell you that?”
“We also know that he was once a dark boy, a Huntsman, working for the Queen of Sorrow,” another girl said. “She thinks she is smart, but she will lose in the end.”
The woman stood up with anger in her eyes, “How do all of you know this? Charmwill could not have told you that!” she demanded.
“Of course, he didn’t. The last time he was here, he only told us he was going to see the boy,” the lisping girl said.
“Then how did you know?” The children heard the sound of grinding teeth coming from behind the veil.
“We learned some of the stories through this,” one girl stretched out her hand, revealing a piece of purple candy.
“What is this?” the woman tried to snatch it but the girl pulled away.
“It’s the magic candy he gave us before he left,” the girl in the back explained. “He said the candy would make us have happy dreams each night while we slept, but we discovered the candy revealed stories to us from all around the world. One of those was the Boy Who was a Shadow’s story and how Carmilla had his Fleece.”
“You know about Carmilla, and the Fleece, too?” the woman in the veil sounded furious.
“Wait,” the lisping girl leaned back, pulling her friends with her. “How could you not know about the candy if Charmwill sent you?”
“Look!” the girl in the back pointed at the woman, “her eyes!”
The children squinted in the dark, still keeping their distance.
“Oh. My. God,” a boy said. “She has the golden tinge shining in her eyes. She has a splinter from the mirror!”
“She fooled us,” the other boy said. “She isn’t a friend of Charmwill. She’s here to find out about the clue to the mirror. She thinks Charmwill may have told us about it.”
“Damn you all, little horrible children” the woman’s voice gushed. She talked in a darker tone now. A breeze of wind pulled the veil off the woman’s face as if it had hands and was determined to expose her.
“Run!” the lisping girl screamed.
The Children of Hamlin ran away from the woman in the veil, the way their ancestors wished their children had run away from the Pied Piper centuries ago. Although they hadn’t met the woman in the veil before, they suddenly felt they knew her. Her face was engraved in their deepest nightmares. They felt in their hearts that they had inherited her evil image from their parent’s nightmares, and their grandparent’s nightmares, but they didn’t know how this was possible. They were running away from a great evil who pretended to be friends with Charmwill Glimmer.
Alone in the dark, the Queen of Sorrow pulled off her veil like a devil pulling off his mask. She wiped her dress off as if she’d become dirty sitting around the Children of Hamlin, and cursed them under her breath.
Her pumpkin coach arrived, and a short hunched man with a silver tooth hurried to open the door for her.
“My Magnificent Majesty,” the hunched man pulled off his hat. He wore white gloves and used a crooked cane to hold himself up against the weight of his hunched back, which resembled a sack full of dead children. Igor the Magnificent was the Queen’s driver.
“The best thing about you, Igor, is that your back is arched. It’s like you’re cursed to show your respects forever,” the Queen of Sorrow said mockingly. “I wish every one else working for me was like that.”
“Don’t worry, Magnificent Majesty,” Igor said. “They will all bow for you eventually,” he opened the door, and the Queen stepped up into her coach.
Inside the coach, sat her favorite mirror.
“How did it go, my Queen?” Bloody Mary asked. “Did you find out about the clue to the Anderson Mirror?”
“No, Mary,” the Queen took off her gloves, finger by finger. “But I learned a couple of other things that worry me.”
“And what would that be, Majesty?”
“Charmwill, although dead, communicates with the Children of Hamlin through some kind of candy that makes them dream of things he never revealed to them in his previous stories,” Carmilla said.
“I know this worries you, my Queen,” Bloody Mary said. “But you chopped off his head and buried him in the Sands of Time. We’ve got more important work to do now. Don’t you agree?”
“I sure hope so, Mary,” Carmilla said. “The other thing is that Charmwill never told them who he really is. I wonder why.”
“That’s interesting,” Bloody Mary said. “Charmwill was full of tricks.”
“I’m sure I’ll find why he chose not to tell them his True Name soon,” Carmilla said. “But let’s get back to the important stuff; I need to find the clue to the Anderson Mirror. I have to get my hands on its power.”
“Why don’t we start with the Huntsman? You have his Fleece now,” Bloody Mary said, laughing satisfyingly as the Queen turned her head to look at her. “Maybe he could lead us to it.”
“I already did. I sent him on a mission,” Carmilla smiled proudly, wrapping Loki’s red Fleece around her fingers. “And could you please look the other way, Mary? You’re disgusting.”
1
The Phoenix
The door of the Schloss sprang open, followed by a gust of a sinister wind spiraling in the hallways.
Snow White, sleeping in her coffin, opened her weary eyes. Her heart tightened in a strange way as if some invisible force wrapped a velvet rope around it and started squeezing. Something dreadful was coming her way.
The first recognizable voice was Fable screaming outside the castle.
“Don’t—” Fable shouted.
The sinister and howling wind ate the rest of Fable’s words like a cookie monster, protecting whatever evil was approaching Snow White.
“Wake up, Shew,” the wind laughed. Snow White wondered if she had just imagined the wind talk to her. “It’s time to…” the wind laughed again.
“Stop!” Axel’s voice splintered like shattered glass across the wind’s wings.
Axel and Fable. I remember them. They’re Loki’s friends.
Snow White had been waiting for Loki all day. He’d went to Candy House to meet up with the Crumblewood’s foster mother. He was supposed to return to the Schloss before sunset. It was midnight.
Snow White heard someone enter the castle downstairs. Whoever it was, he or she were breathing heavily, smelling of uncanny evil—a scent Snow White had worn on her soul for years before Loki’s kiss.
I need to gather my strength and get out of the coffin.
Snow White felt weary, unable to step out of it. She needed to feed but had stopped herself all through the day, waiting for Loki. Although Loki’s kiss had unchained her from the castle’s curse, she still had to feed. Being a Dhampir didn’t mean she wasn’t partially a vampire. She was the granddaughter of Night Sorrow himself and the Chosen One whether she liked it or not. Saints and monks couldn’t take care of the evil that lurked in this world anymore, and spitting in the face of evil wasn’t a good girl’s quest. She had to be one of them, partially evil, and strong enough to face their darkness.
Snow White still had a lot to learn about who she was. Quenching her thirst without hurting people was one of her priorities.
As the intruder neared, she felt even weaker. If only someone had taught her how to use her Dhampir powers. She had been imprisoned in the Schloss for a hundred years.
“Prophecies suck,” she mumbled, grabbing the coffin’s edge. She gathered her strength and climbed out of it, limping her way through as if there was mud on the floor, she made it toward the foggy window. The window was closer than the door, and she was hoping she could see who was causing Fable and Axel to shout with such distress.
Before she could wipe the window with her hand, her foggy reflection sneered back at her. She saw herself in her white dress, the red ribbon in her hair, and her fangs drawn out.
It was a defensive reaction to the threat climbing up the stairs, she thought. How was she ever going to learn how to control herself? She felt the thirst for blood, but not enough anger to strike. If someone approached her, could she feed on them? Even if she had the strength to do it, she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to kill anymore. She had finally found Loki, and she planned to live happily ever after with him.
It’s all because of Loki’s kiss, her darker half whispered. Love is a terrible thing. It makes people vulnerable. Are you prepared to be vulnerable while the world counts on you to save them from Night Sorrow and Carmilla?
Snow White found herself raising her hands and touching her lips.
‘If you don’t believe me, ask your lips,’ Loki had answered her when she questioned if their love had been a dream.
The memory sent an electrical surge through her body, remembering what they had both been through to earn that kiss. Who would have thought that Loki, the dark Huntsman, who had slaughtered more people than he could remember, could be saved?
Where are you Loki? What’s taking you so long?
“Loki!” Fable yelled.
Loki is here? Where? What is going on?
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Loki,” Axel and Fable yelled outside. “You’re not yourself!”
Snow White wiped the fog from the window. She couldn’t see Loki outside, but she saw Axel and Fable running into the Schloss, still yelling at the evil approaching her.
What’s going on?
The evil, protected by the laughing wind, had already reached the hallway. Snow White could feel it. She could hear it taking confident strides toward her room. Whoever, or whatever, Axel and Fable were screaming at was at her door.
“Please, no,” Fable said again, climbing the stairs. “Don’t kill her!”
Is that Loki coming to my room? To kill me? Again?
The evil scent was Loki’s. She knew it well.
She wondered how it was even possible: Loki not remembering who he was. Snow White had been afraid to remind him or he surely would have killed her in the Dreamworld.
She turned around.
Loki was standing behind her, wearing Axel’s hood.
Still resisting the idea that he’d come to kill her, her fangs drew back and the muscles on her face relaxed.
“Loki,” she still liked the sound of his name on her lips. Her eyes widened cheerfully. “You came back for me,” she ran across the room and threw herself in his arms. “You came back for a monster,” she muttered, rubbing her cheek against his hollow chest. Her longing for him blinded her from the obvious. Love tends to blind people and urge them to sleep in the arms of the enemy sometimes.
Although Loki hadn’t spoken a word or shown signs of passion, she pressed her head closer to him like a lovely pillow she could confess all her secrets to.
Finally, the truth hit her like a dagger. She noticed he was frigid, cold, and speechless. His heart wasn’t beating, just like the dead. This wasn’t Loki she was hugging anymore. It was the shell of what was left of him. Loki was gone; the boy behind his eyes had disappeared. This was Loki’s shadow, the Huntsman with the three-eyed unicorn.
She turned away, and then looked into his eyes one more time, wishing she would get a glimpse of the boy she loved. His eyes sent rays of horror into her soul. They were slatted and yellow like a snake, the Queen of Sorrow’s eyes.
She took two steps back, gathering all of her energy.
You know what you have to do, Shew. The voice in her head reminded her. If you’re really the Chosen One, the first thing you have to do is … kill him.
“No,” she screamed. “What happened to you, Loki?” unaware she was close to tripping over the glass coffin behind her.
Loki didn’t say a word. He just kept staring at her, his eyes turning black as night and appearing endlessly hollow with that glimmer of gold.
Snow White had confronted many demons before, but Loki’s stare bored through her and a headache started pounding in her head.
The whiny, funny, and adventurous Loki she knew was gone. This, standing in front of her, was the Huntsman whom everyone in the Kingdom of Sorrow feared.
“Talk to me, Loki,” she pleaded. Another step back, her stomach hurt as if butterflies where being slaughtered inside it. She felt weaker. “What happened to you?”
He looked so powerful, so cocky and sure of himself. His shirt, ripped open, revealed a six-pack underneath, his body had changed from a boy to a man.
Oh my God, Snow White thought when Loki’s hood fell back. She saw his hair had turned platinum blonde again, the color of the Huntsman’s before he’d been unshadowed by Charmwill. He also had his Alicorn in his hand.
Snow White tripped backwards into the glass coffin, unable to take her eyes off him. It was a hard choice. Death in front of her or the grave behind her.
Back to where you belong, Shew. Her inner voice taunted her.
“Come on, Loki,” she forced a crooked smile on her lips. “You’ve killed me before. It didn’t work,” she tried to sound playful.
Axel and Fable were nearer now, calling for him again.
“Mircalla did this to you,” Axel said from the hallway. “I don’t know how this happened but Mircalla is Carmilla Karnstein, the Queen of Sorrow.”
“She controls you through the Fleece,” Fable said, reaching the door with her brother.
Slowly, Loki turned back to them. He waved one hand in the air, sending the laughing wind whipping at them. The wind laughed hysterically as it blew them back into the hallway. Snow White heard them thud against a wall then fall into silence.
Loki met Carmilla? In the real world?
A Dreamhunter’s Fleece was like his soul. She had been next to Loki when Carmilla took it in the Dreamory.
Loki turned to face Snow White; he had a cocky smirk on one corner of his mouth. The sweat caused by Snow Whites racing heart stuck to her dress.
“Loki,” Snow tried one last time. “Don’t you remember me? I’m the one you love.”
Her words had no effect on him. He knelt down and pulled her hair violently with one hand, the way ancient people grabbed their sacrifices before they slaughtered them for the Gods.
Her veins fueled with anger. The smell of his blood was so intense and beautiful she could just suck him dry. Her fangs drew out, feebly without grit or strength to use them.
Strength is not what you are lacking, Shew. Don’t fool yourself. You just cannot bite him.
Loki gave her one last demonic look and staked her mercilessly. It was fast, the Alicorn plunging through her chest, blood spattering on both their faces.
No apology followed like in the past, nor did he show the slightest signs of guilt.
Feeling betrayed again, killed by the one she loved, Snow White gave in as the world faded away.
Before she passed out, she wondered why Carmilla made him stake her. All Carmilla needed now was to find the Lost Seven so she could consume her heart, stay beautiful without killing young girls, and never be threatened by her daughter again. Why would Carmilla make Loki stake her?
This is much bigger than you think, Shew. It is not just about you. This is about the whole Fairyworld.
As the world faded to black, Snow White felt the Baby Tears in her eyes—although they seemed a bit different. Loki must have used them so she wouldn’t be able to manipulate the dream.
Now she had to face another Dreamory. She wondered which one it was going to be. She felt Loki place two Obol coins on her eyes then whisper the Incubator into her ears. The date was 1803.
How was he going to access something she couldn’t even remember?
The incubator presented an even greater challenge, a strange word that meant nothing to her:
The Phoenix.
