by Gow, Kailin
A few blue sparks emerged from my fingers. Then, all at once, a roaring blue flame burst forth, breaking down the wall, shattering into pieces. My eyes adjusted swiftly to the novelty of the day's bright light. I was free. And now I had to run. Before I knew what I was doing I had begun to tear violently through the streets of the village, not even stopping to take stop of my surroundings, running faster and faster until I'd left the village itself far behind me and wandered into the depths of the emerald-green forest, rich with the scent of pine, that surrounded it. My heart began to beat faster and faster as I quickened my pace, allowing my wings to expand until I was flying, gliding above the earth. I didn't know if Gail's spies were watching, so I made sure to fly low above the tree-tops, doing my best to hide among the rich foliage.
I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath and regather my thoughts. I was...somewhere familiar. The forest that led to the Winter Kingdom. About a half day from the Summer Court – but that was assuming I didn't need to face down Gail or one of those Shadow Puppets – let along angry villagers, grown bloodthirsty with rage as a result of Gail's insidious tricks.
And then I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye. A shadow that moved just a tad too swiftly. A shadow of a tree that began to morph and change, crying out without sound as other shadows rushed to join it.
I felt their tug against my wings, pulling me to the earth, invisible nets that seemed to catch at me and whip at me. I groaned with pain as one wrapped an invisible chain around my ankle, pulling it tight. A purple bruise appeared as I tried to kick the shadows away.
“Unhand me!” I cried, my voice echoing through the forest. “I am the Fairy King, Kian of Winter, Emperor of Feyland, and I command you unhand me at once.”
I heard a low hissing sound in my ear. “Never,” it whispered. “You are second to our Mistress, to the great Gail, the White Witch. You have no power over us. We serve only the White Witch!”
“Unhand him!” A male voice in the distance rang clear as a bell. “Unhand the King!”
I looked up with shock as green sparks shot forth from the fingertips of a beautiful youth, his shirtless chest glinting with sweaty strength in the morning light.
“What the...” This was no Winter Fairy, nor no Summer Fairy either. Neither of us had command of green magic.
But his second shot hit home, and a bolt of green lighting split apart one of the shadows, sending it careening into a million pieces.
A pixie? I wondered. But no, it couldn't be – he didn't have the pointed ears and sharp chin of the pixies, nor the small, lithe physique. This man was broad, with powerful shoulders and a strong, strapping look about him. Almost like...
“It cannot be!” I cried, as the man transformed into a Wolf before my eyes, his body morphing into a proud lupine body in a matter of seconds. I looked up in shock. “But...you're a Wolf! Wolves don't have magic.”
“We do now!” Another Wolf appeared, this time a half-naked girl with long dark hair. “And we're prepared to use it.”
And with that, a whole pack of them had appeared, looks of utter glee on their faces as they began to throw energy bolts of magic at the mysterious shadow figures, attacking them again and again.
“Look!” one of them called, a note of surprise in his voice as a rope of emerald fire appeared from his fingertips. It twisted in the air before thudding to the ground, holding the shadow puppets tight. “Try it!”
Soon, all the Wolves had begun to make ropes of magic, binding the puppets, who struggled wildly, their form contorting but never quite breaking the bond.
“I don't understand,” I went over to one of the Wolves, who had reverted to his human form. “Are you some special kind of Wolf I have never met before?”
“I am a Wolf like any other,” he said, with a tone that bordered on proud. “And like any other Wolf, I lived in denial of my birthright for far too long. But now, I rejoice to say that magic has returned to me, as it has returned to all the Wolves. The rumor is that the Wolfstone has been activated – that our magic is back for good. That...”
But his voice trailed off as consternation spread across his face, along with a look of fear. The shadow puppets were getting stronger, straining harder and harder against the ropes that bound them, getting bigger and bigger.
“It's not going to hold them!” cried the other Wolf, but the warning came too late.
The Shadow Puppets had broken loose. And they were heading straight for me...
Chapter 12
It was all over in the blink of an eye. My powers were useless against the powers of the Shadow Puppets. The Wolves howled and roared, trying in vain to make emerald-colored sparks shoot out from their fingertips once again, but ultimately they could do nothing. The shadows ran circles around us, knocking the breath out of our lungs, squeezing our bodies tightly until we choked for air, kneading their dark contours around us until our hands were bound tight and I was gasping, choking, spluttering, trying to inhale one final breath before everything went black...
I awoke in another cell. This one was sturdier than the last – we were underground, I could tell that much from the dank and moldy smell, and no lights shone through any cracks in the walls. I struggled to free my hands from the cuffs I had on, but it was all in vain. There was no hope. There was no freedom. There was only Gail, sitting before me on a golden throne, a disturbing glint in her eye and a cruel smile upon her lips.
“So,” she said, when my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. “You thought you could escape from me – is that it?” She smiled darkly. “Silly boy – you ought to have followed orders. You ought to have done as I said. Instead you grew proud, grew risky. But now you will have to face the consequences of your actions.”
I screamed as black flames seemed to envelop my face, burning with an acid darkness I had never experienced before.
“That's what you get for trying to escape,” Gail sneered. “And that's only the beginning. You haven't even begun to experience the punishments I've dreamed up for you. Not yet.” She laughed, the sound maniacal and terrifying as it echoed through the cavernous chamber, making me shudder as it boomed from the ceiling. “Your magic has only led you into ruin, Fairy King. The magic you have exhibited has only led your land into more despair, more warfare, more hunger, more famine. And now that the Wolves have magic, what use have we for yours? What need do we have for Fey magic at all?” Her laugh grew louder, longer and crueller as she raised her hands. “I'll tell you what I think, Fairy King. I think we should see what happens if you have to do without it for a little while, don't you?”
She pulled back her hands, as if tugging on an invisible rope. Immediately I felt a strange, painful sucking sensation all around my body, as if the air in my lungs were being inhaled by another, as if all of the power and the strength in my body were being forcibly extracted from it. I cried aloud in agony as my body began to shudder in the wake of this mysterious spell.
“Stop!” I cried. “Stop it! By order of the Fairy King!”
“No,” she said calmly. “You stop, Kian. I make the orders now.”
I fell to the floor with a sharp thud, my arms springing loose from the shadow puppets' handcuffs. Immediately I put up my fingers, attempting to blast Gail with a bolt of blue flame. But nothing appeared from my finger-tips. I tried again, concentrating my magic, trying to focus every ounce of my being on destroying her
But nothing happened. I remained still and useless before her as she began to chuckle.
“That won't do you much good now,” she sneered. “You haven't got any magic any longer, Fairy King. I've taken it.” She snapped, and blue fire appeared in the air above her hands, taunting me with its sparkle. “Now you're no better than an ordinary human, Fairy King. Than one of the mortals you used to mock. Now Logan has the power of magic – and you are simply...average. Mortal. Human. With nothing special about you. Soon you'll begin to age, and grow old, and your hair will turn grey, and your many hundreds of years of life will doubtless
catch up with you before long...” She tossed her hair.
“Fitting, isn't it? That Breena should end up with a magical Immortal after all – and that this immortal should be Logan, rather than you. How much time did you think about Logan as no threat at all – because he had no magic? Because he was not a Fey? How many times did you mentally dismiss him as inferior to you because he did not make fire with his fingers? And now...the roles are reversed. But perhaps it's what Breena would have wanted...”
She raised her magic mirror again, placing it in front of my eyes. My hands were bound once more by the Shadow-Puppets; they held my face so that I could not look away from the destruction before me.
And then I saw it in the mirror – the thing that hurt me most. The thing that made my heart split in two. Logan and Breena, in bed together, caressing one another, naked to the waist, tangled in the sheets I recognized all too well. Looking at one another with looks of utter love in their eyes – overwhelmed by their own joy – their gaze sparkling with anticipation and desire. I saw the ring on her finger – the ring she had worn while engaged to Logan when she was under the spell of the toad-like Wort, who had made her fall in love with him.
And yet knowing that it was a spell didn't make it any easier. The sight of Logan and Breena, kissing and caressing one another, was enough to set my mind, heart, and soul on fire. I could not stand the agony. Fire burned within my veins, seeping through my arteries, setting my skin aflame in invisible conflagration. I missed her; I needed her. And yet, as I saw her, naked and so desirable, wrapped in Logan's arms, crying out his name over and over again in rapturous ecstasies as he kneaded his fingers up and down her lithe, muscular body, I felt myself torn – half of me lost in that same rapt longing, half of me suffering from the most egregious of despair.
“No!” I cried, trying to shut my eyes, but the Shadow Puppets held them open, merciless in their stillness.
The scene began to change before me. Instead of seeing Logan and Breena as they were when they were engaged, under a spell, I saw them as they must have been while growing up. Breena was wearing human clothes – those blue trousers called jeans, cut off at the knee, and a tight blue shirt that emphasized her shapely form. Logan too was dressed in human garb, and the two of them were walking in the woods, laughing and joking. She looked so happy, then, so healthy, with that starry pink glow in her cheeks and the smile that seemed so genuine, so real, upon her lips. This was the Breena I loved, the Breena I most wanted to see: a happy Breena, her happiness unadulterated by the stress of living in the Fairy World. She and Logan were talking about such simple things – gossip from their old high school, talk about Clariss, who was bullying Breena after Biology class. They were mock-pushing and joke-shoving one another, playing like puppies, their energy tireless and boundless. And I found my heart aching more in the witnessing of it than it did watching the two of them kissing in bed. It was one thing to know that Breena desired Logan physically, or that he could give her pleasure. But to see them together like this made one thing painfully – agonizingly certain.
Logan understood her. They had shared so much, gone through so many struggles together that they were like one person, one single being. Their souls fused as one in a way even magic could not bind me to her. I would never understand Breena's human side. I would never understand her – as much as I loved her our love lacked a grounding in the small things, the intimate pleasures that lovers know about one another. I barely knew what her favorite human book was, let alone her opinions on mortal television shows, or whether or not she followed politics back in Gregory – things that no doubt Logan could rattle off at a moment's notice. He knew every part of her; he cared for her.
Oh, Breena, I whispered to myself. I promise, if I ever get you back, I'll never let you go again. I'll care for you – I'll do my best to understand you. To learn more about you. To at last get to the point where you and I truly get each other, in mind as well as in body. I want to know what books you like, what food you eat, what mattered to you in the mortal world I still don't fully understand. I'll do whatever it takes – just to be close to you again.
“Seen enough yet?” Gail shoved the mirror into my face. “Or do you want to torment yourself more?”
I was beaten. The pain was too great. I couldn't look a second longer into that terrible mirror, which reflected back to me my own fears, my own insecurities, which seemed to dig deep into my very soul. “No more,” I whispered. “Please, no more...”
“I promised I'd end the pain, didn't I?” Gail took a step toward me. “And I will. I do keep my promises – that much, at least, I can assure you. I can end all of this pain, right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You won't love her any longer...” Gail began to stroke my cheeks. “I will fulfil my bargain with you.”
“No,” I cried. “I don't want that – not any longer. I'd rather die, loving her, than live knowing I betrayed her, that I gave up on us.”
“Too late,” Gail snapped. “You gave up on her the moment you invited me into Feyland.” She grabbed hold of my head. “Now drink!”
I coughed; I spluttered, but there was nothing I could do. The sweet liquid forced its way down my throat, turning bitter and black in my throat as she tipped the small glass vial onto my lips. I tried to spit it out but the liquid kept on coming, tumbling down my throat, making me retch.
And then it was gone, leaving nothing but a burning sensation on my tongue.
And a curious, newfound coldness in my heart.
Chapter 13
Breena
I gasped as I saw it burn. The effigy, brighter and brighter, the heat stinging my face as I watched the puppet, life-size, looking so eerily like me, collapse into cinders. The arms and legs were falling off; straw was burning all around the base of the doll. And my own face – terribly, horribly life-like, was staring back at me as the eyes melted into thick, glutinous goo.
“Logan,” I whispered in horror, taking his hand. “Logan, let's get out of here, quick!”
We ran, covering our faces with our bonnets and hats, trying to stay into the shadows. My heart was beating quickly, wildly; terror had taken hold of me. How could this be? Only a few days ago, I was a beloved Queen, a favorite of the Summer and Winter fairies alike. Everyone respected me; everyone cared for me. Kian and I had been lauded like heroes ever since we'd returned home from the final battles against the Dark Hordes. How could we not be? We'd ended the wars that had divided Feyland; we'd driven off the Dark Hordes that had threatened to send Feyland into a tailspin of destruction; we'd done all that was asked of us and more. But now some evil power had turned our people against me – now they looked at me with hatred, with suspicion, with fear. What was happening?
“Something's wrong,” Logan said, looking around. “It's not just about you – look at this place. Crime, theft, burglary, break-ins, violence, everywhere! Window panes are smashed; there are bodies lining the streets. This isn't ordinary dissent – the man was right. Something magical is happening here...”
“Is it?” I felt my eyes grow wet with tears. “Or have they just come to their senses....” I felt my voice tremble and grow weak. “Think about it, Logan; just think about it! I'm a nobody. I was a sixteen-year-old girl who came from the middle of nowhere to run this world. And now that Kian's gone, people are just seeing me as I really am.” The tears spilled down my cheeks. “A failure. A little girl who can't handle ruling a nation...”
Logan held me tight. “Don't be like that, Breena,” he whispered. “You know the truth – deep down within yourself. You don't need Kian; you don't need anybody – to tell you that you're strong enough for this, that you can do this, that you're the best leader Feyland's had for centuries. You just need to believe that for yourself, okay?” He pressed his lips against my forehead. His lips lingered there; I let myself remain in his arms, pressing my body against his reassuring warmth. Then, his face contorted into a frown, and he stepped away abruptly.
> “Come on,” he said. “Let's get back on our horses and get out of here.” He mounted his steed with stunning alacrity; I got on my horse, too, with a heavy heart. I wasn't sure what to think – how to feel. All I knew was that I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach – a sinking surety that something was wrong, terribly wrong. Where is Kian? Why isn't he here? We need to deal with this together.
My thoughts were interrupted by the light, soft sound of sobbing.
“What's that?” I pulled on my reins and my horse came to a stop. “Logan, did you hear that?”
The crying grew louder, and I turned to see a little girl, hardly more than six years old, sobbing in a corner, hiding from the noise of the mob and the bonfire.
“Help me!” she called, her eyes wide with fear. “My mother's gone, my father's gone...they're all fighting...they're all burning. Everything is burned-up, broken, gone...help me!”
“We've got to get back, Breena,” Logan shook his head. “Something's wrong here – and it's too dangerous for us to stay out of the palace, especially with sentiments against you being what they are. We've got to get on the move.”
“We've got to help her!” I cried back. I dismounted my horse and stretched out my hand to the girl.
“I can take you somewhere safe,” I said to her, keeping my voice as low and gentle as I could. “But you have to trust me, okay?”
“Where's Daddy?” The girl started to shake and shiver. “Do you know where Daddy's gone?”
“I don't, I'm sorry,” I shook my head. “But listen, it's really important! We have to get out of here – we're not safe here.” Her hands trembled as I held my own out; at last she put her little fist in mind and ran towards me, clutching my body in her arms.
“Help me, please!” she cried.
“Hurry!” I lifted her up and put her on my pacing steed. “Let's go!”