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Webby stood in the Money Bin, glowering at the figure floating in the air.
“Lena couldn't be your friend because she was never real!” cackled Magica de Spell.
“I don't believe you,” Webby growled, balling her hand into a fist. She charged, ready to wipe the smirk off the sorceress's face, only to be magically grabbed and thrown against a pile of coins.
Magica, still laughing, appeared above her. “You had sleepovers with a shadow, you gave it a friendship bracelet! Honestly, it's embarrassing how pathetic you were. Here, let me put you out of your misery!”
With a wave of her staff, Magica shot a beam of magic towards Webby. The duckling closed her eyes, raised a hand in a vain attempt to shield herself… but nothing happened. A faint glow appeared behind Webby’s eyelids; when she opened them, she saw a blast of light radiating out from her friendship bracelet, keeping her safe.
“What?!” Magica asked.
There was a flicker of movement; a spirit grabbing Magica’s shadow, rising up behind her to turn into…
Webby gasped. “Lena!”
Lena’s mouth was curled into a snarl as she glared at the sorceress. ”Get AWAY from my best friend, Aunt Magica!“ She made for the staff, but missed as Magica yanked it out of reach.
The witch's eyes were blazing. ”You insolent brat! How dare you disobey me?! I am your master! You are nothing more than a PUPPET!“
Magica raised her staff to shoot another beam of magic. This one hit Lena directly in the chest, and her face contorted in pain.
“LENA!” Webby tried to run over to her friend, but her legs wouldn’t move. She tried to reach out, to do something, but couldn’t.
Lena’s body tensed up, limbs jerking into odd positions. She looked at Webby with tears in her eyes. “Webby… I…”
There was a puff of smoke, and then she was gone. When the air cleared, there was a small doll sitting on the ground. A doll that looked exactly like Lena.
Magica’s cackling rang through the air. “Serves you right!”
”NO!“
Webby shot up with a gasp. Her heart was pounding and her eyes felt oddly wet... oh. She was crying.
Another nightmare.
She brought a trembling hand up to her cheek to try and rub the tears away. It wasn’t the first Lena-centric nightmare she’d had, but it still made her heart ache. Granny had told her that was normal; that when you lose someone you care about, the hurt never really goes away. The grief doesn’t get smaller, but, with time, you grow bigger around it.
Sitting alone in her too-spacious room, Webby felt absolutely tiny. She wiped her eyes again and threw her blankets off; it wasn’t like she’d be getting back to sleep anytime soon. She turned on a light and went over to her shelves, hoping to find something to distract herself with. Board games were immediately ruled out (she couldn’t play by herself). Plenty of books, but her mind was racing too much to really absorb anything. There were some stuffed animals, including a small, white duck…
An image of a Lena-shaped doll flashed in Webby’s mind again, making her shudder.
On second thought, maybe she should just go get some water.
Webby turned and hurried out of her room into the hallway. The mansion, normally lively, was dead silent now. A full moon shone through the windows, bathing the corridors in moonlight. From the corner of her eye, Webby kept seeing glimpses of her shadow, and she ducked her eyes to avoid them.
She headed towards the kitchen, but stopped when she noticed something: light was peeking out from under the door. Someone was already in there.
Webby briefly considered turning around – she would rather not explain what she was doing up – but decided against it. She was Webbigail Vanderquack! She could handle a few minutes of socializing!
Webby took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped inside. Donald was by the stove, making himself a cup of tea. At the sound of the door he turned around, smiling when he saw Webby. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you doing up so late?”
Webby gave an awkward wave. “H-hey, Uncle Donald! Just, uh, getting a drink of water, heh heh.” Her too-high voice made her cringe; even she could tell it was a terrible lie.
Donald, of course, saw through her immediately. He frowned and walked over to her, concern etched onto his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Whaaaat,” Webby fake-laughed, “nothing’s wrong, what makes you think that?”
“For starters, you look like you’ve been crying.”
Okay, yeah, she couldn’t really argue with that. Webby’s shoulders slumped. “…I was,” she admitted in a quiet voice.
Donald knelt down and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She didn’t. She wanted to leave, go back to her room, and cry herself to sleep. But that meant being alone again, and she didn’t want that, either. She forced down the lump in her throat. “Okay.”
Donald nodded. “Let’s sit down.” He guided her to the small booth in the corner of the kitchen and took the seat opposite her. Webby fidgeted, unsure where to begin. Donald said nothing, just sipped his tea while he waited for her to find her voice.
“I had a nightmare,” Webby finally said. “About the Shadow War.”
Donald’s brows furrowed. “About Magica?”
Webby nodded. “We were fighting, and then Lena appeared…” Her voice, initially quiet, grew louder with every word. Her fists trembled. “Magica called her a puppet, and turned her into an actual puppet, and acted like it was fine because she wasn’t real in the first place.”
“That’s-“
“But she WAS real!” Webby slammed her hands against the table and pushed herself to standing. “Sure, she was made from shadow magic, but she was still a person! She liked punk bands, and scary movies, and- she wrote poems!” Angry tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. “She wasn’t anyone’s puppet, she was her own person, she- she was-“
Webby took a watery breath. She was too choked up to continue, tears flowing freely down her face. Donald slid out of the booth and knelt on the floor, arms wide open, and she hopped down to run into him. He held her tight as she cried, murmured quiet reassurances between sobs.
When Webby’s tears finally ran out, she pulled away, still sniffling. “I miss her so much.”
Donald gave her a sad smile. “I know you do. But you know what? That means you loved each other a lot, and that makes her real, no matter what anyone says.”
Webby nodded. She didn’t think she would ever stop missing Lena. She didn’t know if the pain would ever get easier. But she knew the two of them had loved each other, and that would never change. She hugged Donald again. “Thanks, uncle Donald.”
He hugged her back just as warmly. “Of course, kiddo.”
.
.
.
In the dark of the shadow realm sat a spirit, who could only watch while her best friend cried.
“I miss her so much,” Webby said.
Lena put a hand on Webby’s shoulder, though she knew the gesture was pointless; the other duckling couldn’t feel it. She sighed. “I miss you too, Pink. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”