Dust (Of Dust and Darkness)

by Devon Ashley

“Then I guess they’re the only ones that got decent sleep tonight. Did you even go to bed?”

  “No. I just couldn’t keep my mind from going over every little detail.” He releases a long, heavy sigh, but his eyes continue to bore hard into mine. “I hate to lose you, Rosalie, but I have to get you out of here.”

  I don’t even fight the tears that drip from my eyes, or the steady stream that follows. Wet and blurry as they are, I can tell his eyes are moist too. If tears are welling up behind his, he’s managing to restrict their flow. My eyes shut tight, and I squeeze the excess moisture out, and take a long, deep breath to calm the desolation within.

  “Come on,” he mournfully says, already standing before I even get around to opening my eyes. He extends his hand and I offer mine, letting him pull me to my feet. My eyes close when his thumbs begin sweeping the tears from my face. “Don’t cry, Rosalie. This is hard enough for me.”

  I huff. Somehow I doubt that, but it comforts me knowing I may not be alone with these twisted, confusing, heart-wrenching feelings inside.

  He kneels and unzips a large bag. His arm disappears inside and eventually pulls out a dress. If it’s cute, I don’t know, because I think I’ve finally reached my breaking point. I think I’m trying to shut down. All emotion seems to be fleeing; my body stands there lifeless, unable to mentally process the soft cotton he’s placing within my grasp. Somehow I manage to clamp my fingers around it, though how my brain actually manages to relay that message to my hand is beyond me. I hear a soft thump on the floor, but my eyes don’t bother to look.

  “That dress will fit you in a minute. When the magic wears off, there are smaller clothes in the bag. I did the best I could with Starla’s old wardrobe. I chose tops and skirts that you have to tie, so hopefully they’ll fit you okay.” I nod, but only a centimeter or two in each direction. I feel sleepy, like I’m caught in a daze I don’t want to break free from. Jack pulls out a small pull-string bag made of black velvet and a blue silk cord. I know what’s inside. Something I haven’t seen since before I was stolen: pixie dust. He unties the knot and loosens the cord just enough for his hand to disappear into the black hole. His hand emerges with a pinch of silvery dust between his fingertips. He rubs his fingers together and the flecks float freely in the air, twinkling as they dance and tumble their way back into their protective velvet.

  My hand suddenly jerks and grasps his wrist, setting free a few more flecks of the diamond dust. His eyes widen, probably afraid I’m backing out of his carefully thought out plan. There’s fear in my eyes and I’m not afraid to express it. “That wasn’t made with the mushroom powder we make here, is it?” My heart pounds at the fear of having that sprinkled over me, knowing full well it’ll produce repercussions.

  He shakes his head. “No. This is from my mother’s stash. Healers are always allotted top grade dust, so this is the best of the best.” I nod and release my grip, my head tipping forward. “Moment of truth. You ready?”

  “No,” I blabber, my voice cracking.

  “Hey.” He says it with such certainty my head shifts up, but my eyes immediately run away. “Where’s that pixie I first met? That defiant one? The one that refused to be demoted to a number? The one that kept screaming and demanding we call her Rosalie? The one I…” he trails off. I look back and meet his gaze, his mossy green eyes saddened. His eyes are twitching back and forth, like he’s reading something in his mind, deciding how to best proceed.

  “The one you what?” I whisper, my tiptoes readying to lift, longing for him to bend down and bring his lips to mine. My heart begs, the one he fell in love with?

  His jaw unhinges and his mouth hangs open a bit. After several awkward seconds, his body snaps and his mouth recloses. “Regardless, that’s the pixie that has to leave here tonight. That’s the pixie that’s going to survive and find her way home.”

  Tears well behind my eyes again, pained that he doesn’t give me what I long for, what I need. But I nod my head in agreement. He’s right. I can do this. I will do this. I will not stay here and spend the remainder of my days unlawfully imprisoned. I’m going to get out of here and go home. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to do that. Including being dusted with magic.

  “Hit me,” I say, expressing more confidence now.

  “First things first.” Handing me the velvet pouch, he pulls a key from one of the pockets in his pants, then steps around to my backside. I hear a click, then my back involuntary jerks back and forth, the sound of metal scraping against metal with each yank. A loud metallic screech pierces the air, making me wish I could cover my ears with my hands. A massive weight lifts from my wings and I moan with pleasure, suddenly feeling lighter than air.

  “Oh, thank you! You have no idea how good that feels!”

  “I can imagine.” He tosses the metal clamp to the floor and it lands with a bang. “Now stand still and be quiet,” he demands, stepping before me again, recollecting the bag of his mother’s pixie dust. “This is going to require a lot of focus on my part.”

  I nod, knowing full well the concentration it takes to will something to my desire. I’ve had several years experience using the dust to grow some of the plant life throughout the forest surrounding my Hollow. I tilt my head down, deciding it best to remove my eyes completely from his line of sight. I sense his arm lifting above my head and await impact. Impact, I think, internally laughing at the thought. I actually have no idea what this will feel like, if anything at all. So far I feel nothing, and can tell visually that I haven’t grown in size. Has he even started yet? I dare not look, more afraid of interrupting him than anything.

  I catch a sparkle at the tip of my nose, the light reflecting the quickest flash of red on a hexagonal-shaped fleck. More and more specks follow and fill my vision, reflecting the beautiful colors of the rainbow as they twist and tumble downward. I suddenly feel a twinge in my tummy and instinctively cover it with my hands. The feeling’s hard to describe really. It almost feels like little tendrils are rapidly reaching out from a tiny ball of mass, right in the center of my tummy. They lick farther and farther, lengthening and extending their reach down my legs to the balls of my feet and toes, and up my arms and all the way down to my fingertips. Last is my head, and it fills with so much pressure I’m forced to squeeze my eyes and pinch my nose in a desperate attempt to fight against it. An involuntary gasp of air fills my lungs, and it holds firm as I feel my muscles stretch and lengthen. But what’s really weird are the bones, and they way they almost feel like they’re thinning in circumference in order to lengthen, manipulating and reshaping the bone that’s already present in my body.

  I won’t lie. There’s a little pain involved, like a surplus of pins and needles attacking my body. I grunt as I feel myself lengthen and grow slightly in height. After a minute, it all seems to fade, but the pinpricks linger a bit. My facial muscles slowly release, and my eyelids fearfully creep upwards in small sections, widening my view layer by layer.

  I gasp, and shoot my eyes wide open. I’m almost head level with the most gorgeous guy ever! Before, I was three inches shorter, now I’m only down by one. It’s almost like when we sit (or I sit up and he leans) and we’re close enough to converse comfortably face to face. But never before have I been anywhere close enough to do that standing up. Not that I’m complaining of the great view I had of his chest, but a view of his neck is so much better, because all I have to do is barely tilt upward to get an absolutely perfect look at those luscious lips. And right now they’re close enough to brush against mine, if only he would just tilt a little more south.

  He licks his lips and slightly chuckles, setting off the butterflies in my abdomen again. But they have an absolute fit when his body twists and exposes his backside to me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, completely flustered. We were about to have a moment! “What are you doing?”

  “Uh…the dress, Rosalie.” He shifts a little as he awkwardly tries to point toward the cloth in my hand. “You need to put the dress on.”

&
nbsp; My forehead creases with confusion, but when I look down, it all makes sense. “Oh-my-Mother-Nature!” I scream. I bend forward at the waist, my arms immediately crossing over my chest. My heart thumps so hard I feel it pulsating against the limb covering it. Who knew growing two inches would cause my chest to expand that much! My thinning bikini top has stretched and is covering the important parts, but it left very little to the imagination. I groan, wondering exactly how much Jack got to see before I even got around to opening my eyes. Sure, he was transfixed on my eyes then, but what about before? Mother Nature, I hope he was respectful. I’m sure he was, but I know he saw something, because how else would he know to turn and tell me to change? Here comes another groan…

  The knot is hard to untie now that the material around me is stretched tight. I finally quit fighting it from behind and twist the knot to my front. It’s still hard to get, but I’m making headway.

  After another grunt from me, Jack sarcastically asks, “Need some help?”

  “Hush up and stay put.”

  He chuckles and the tails of my bikini top finally untangle. I drop the worn-out top and quickly throw the dress over my head. The thin cotton is stretchy and fits me well, with thin sleeveless straps and a pleated skirt that falls loosely mid-thigh. The light tan color is nothing to be desired, but it blends really well against my skin.

  “Uh…Jack?” I suddenly realize something very important.

  “Yeah?”

  “Turn around.” He obeys, his eyebrows lifting with interest as he examines me head to toe. I quickly thrust my forearms in the space between us and bounce them up and down. “Look. I’m still red. I can’t be red!” My poor enlarged heart can’t take any more panic attacks today, not after everything else my body has gone through.

  “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m going to take care of that and your wings with dust too. Just one problem at a time.”

  “Okay.” My head bobs nervously, then my hands begin to twitch too. Before my whole body can sporadically break out in embarrassing dance moves, I cross my arms tight, shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths. “Okay. Hit me.”

  He wordlessly obliges. I barely hear his movements. A minute later, I feel a tingle spread all over the top of my skin. A minute after that, I feel a twinge at the base of my wings. It almost feels like the veins and crossveins in my wings are actually knitting back together, and the cartilage is molding and realigning at each break. A warmth radiates from the base of my spine and travels out to the tips of my four wings, and I suddenly feel this wondrous glow inside me build and spread to every single cell inside my body. I sigh with content, feeling healthier than I have in a long time. My insides sing, practically tingling with delight. I wiggle my fingers, and I swear I can almost feel the magic exuding from my fingertips, buzzing with life, static flaring as they brush together.

  The symptoms fade, including the inner warmth, but I still feel pretty good as I expose my eyes to the sight before me. My skin is now a creamy peach like Jack’s, and I can see the tips of my wings out the corner of my eyes – and their yellow luminescence!

  “Oh, Jack! You healed them? How?”

  “No, Rosalie,” he says quickly, shaking his head and cutting the air with his hands multiple times. “I’m not a healer. Wings are incredibly delicate, and I wasn’t able to catch anything to practice on, so I’m not going to try. It’s just an illusion, so don’t try to actually use them. I just don’t want anyone we may run across to see damaged wings and wonder.”

  “Oh.” To say I’m disappointed is an understatement, but better to see them in all their glory than the mangled up mess they really are, right? I suppose they’ll still hurt if I touch them, and I dare not try.

  “Well… Now you look the part.” His eyes linger on me longer than necessary. He almost seems sad to see me this way. Perhaps he feels it’s a tease…because it sure feels that way to me. Here we are, compatible heights, matching skin tones…two fae that look a match. What I want is right before me, and the attraction I have for Jack is no longer considered unlawful. But this nine-inch, creamy-skinned faerie before him isn’t me. Not really. And I think he sees that as a problem as much as I do. What good is being together if I have to change myself to the point I’m unrecognizable?

  “Come on. I want you past the spriggans campsite before you change back or something goes wrong with the illusion.”

  He passes me the bag – it’s heavier than it looks – and I stuff my worn out clothes and the bag of pixie dust inside. I slip on the shoes – I guess they must have been the thump I heard earlier when I was too out of it to discover the source of the noise. They’re soft and silky on my bare feet, and I feel a little guilty that I’m not clean enough for shoes this pretty. The dark brown material extends a little farther than my toes, but the silk ribbon straps that wrap around my ankles keeps them on well enough. I never had shoes this nice back home. I had two pairs for working in, but I hardly ever wore them, preferring to feel the earth between my bare toes.

  “You’re in charge of that bag from now on, so hold on tight.” He grabs the metal clamp and the lantern’s hand ring with his left hand, and extends his right arm out. His fingers summon me. I loop the bag over my right shoulder and step into his embrace. My left arm wraps under his arm and up his back, my hand cupping over the curvature of his shoulder blade. His arm wraps tightly around my waist. His wings flutter, and I suddenly wonder if he’ll be able to carry me out of here by himself since I probably weigh as much as he does now.

  “Maybe we should have made me a faerie after you took me topside.”

  He huffs, and sarcastically says, “Now you say that? Where was that great idea fifteen minutes ago?”

  “Guess maybe someone should have consulted me in terms of the escape plan after all, huh?”

  I can feel his glare but I refuse to look. He squeezes my waist so hard I yelp. My lips press tightly together, trying to contain the laughter within as he bends and pushes up, having to practically jump off the ground. We ascend – a little slowly, but up is up. So long crap hole!

  We pass over the edge, and my feet stumble to find solid ground that doesn’t poke a hole through my shoes. Jack releases me slowly, his hand sliding along my lower back as he walks down the passage.

  “Turns out you make a curvy faerie too.”

  Astonished, I playfully smack him on the back of the shoulder before he can duck completely out of reach. I follow his mild laughter down the passage, the lantern in his hand illuminating a distorted depiction of our shadows across the rocky walls. It only takes a minute of walking to get us to the opening of the cave, to the peaks of hanging rock resembling the canines in a wolf’s maw, which teases me, looking ready to chomp shut and devour me the moment I dare to pass through, but I’m excited for my first view of nature in several weeks nonetheless.

  Ugh…I’ve forgotten how ugly this made up world is. Even with nothing but a weak glow from the moon, I can see the barren ground and a few dead looking trees. Those poor trees. In reality, they’re probably pretty beautiful, but it’s lost to the world thanks to this horrible illusion. Pixies spend a great deal of time and effort making plants and trees bountiful and picturesque, and the flippin’ faeries completely removed it from this area with one stupid, unlawful illusion. Jerks.

  We stop now that we’re outside, and Jack takes off and disappears over the top of the cave. A moment later I hear a wooden clunk, and a rush of water flows over the top, covering the entrance with a thick wall of shimmering liquid. It splashes into a moist creek that flows down and away. The cool drops splattering randomly into the air feel wonderful against my bare legs.

  Jack returns and takes my hand, hurrying me away, still carrying the lantern and wing clamp with his other hand. “Rosalie, do you remember the map and where you’re going?”

  “Sort of,” I admit.

  “The map is in your bag. Pull it out if you need to, but keep it dry and safe otherwise. I’ve packed some food and a water canteen
, but it’s only if you really need it. You need to always be on the lookout for food and water, and eat as you go. If you find something in surplus, stuff what you can into your bag. But I’m serious Rosalie, don’t eat what’s in your bag until you’re in dire need. It’s meant to feed you if you’re on the run, temporarily trapped up in a tree, or whatever.”

  “Okay.” My fingers wrap tighter around his at the thought of being chased up a tree. I’d have to actually climb it. Can I do it before whatever’s chasing me catches up?

  “You’re wearing your only faerie clothes. There are two sets of smaller clothes, a blanket, and rope to tie a raft. Think you can build a raft?”

  I huff. “I built myself a tree house. I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.”

  I can’t see it because he’s leading the way, but I sense the smile on his face when he responds, “Okay. Do you know how to navigate if you get lost?”

  “I don’t understand. I’m basically lost from the start. I run until I find the trail, travel until it bends, and keep going straight until I hit the river. Right?”

  “Right, but if you get turned around, do you know how to use the North Star?”

  “All I know is that it’s really bright.” I’ve spent many nights outside my tree house, lying atop the canopy, admiring its brightness.

  Jack stops, and I pull up beside him. He releases my hand and his eyes search the sky. Pointing upward to the right, he tells me, “That’s the North Star.” I shake my head in agreement. He pushes on my shoulder and twists me directly before it. “Any time you’re facing directly at this star, you’re facing true north.”

  “Okay.”

  He pulls me back into motion, quickening our speed. “You’re mostly going to be traveling east. So if we were in the forest right now, and you were directly facing the North Star, which way would you go?”

  I think for a moment… “I don’t know. We were never really taught this in my Hollow ‘cause we knew our land like the back of our hands. We didn’t get lost.”