Door in the Garden of Shadows

by April Canavan

  “Well, I go pretty much anywhere that I want. I do whatever I want to. Then again, you already know all about that, don’t you?” Winter looked at her from her own seat on the garden floor. The dog was laying on her lap, and a look of pure joy seemed to radiate from his black and brown fur covered body.

  “Just ignore her, Diesel.” Winter scratched behind the dog’s ears, but it gave Mykah the time she needed to catch her breath.

  “Can I have a few minutes to not die, please? Before you break into some sort of life lesson.” When her heart rate slowed down enough, she sat down next to the witch and reached for the dog. “Is he yours?”

  “Diesel’s been with me for a long time. Even though Jackson tried to steal him a few years ago, he’ll always know who his mumma is.” Pride and love shone through Winter’s voice as she spoke about the dog. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  Mykah fought the urge to roll her eyes, barely. “I figured as much. Why are you here, Winter? I thought you swore never to get involved in the business of the other realms?” The pain of losing her grandmother was still fresh, and she didn’t want to deal with anything that the witch had to say. That’s the only reason she could come up with for why she was unconscionably rude.

  “Magic is dying, princess. We’re all breaking the rules, now, aren’t we? I haven’t followed magical edicts since I abdicated the throne to the Witch Council, waiting for the next leader to rise. I’m hoping Maddox fits the bill.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and power flowed freely from the movement and into the air around her. Mykah couldn’t see it but could feel the tickle against her skin like the soothing caress of a mother’s touch.

  Choking on the emotion forming in her throat, she finally managed to say, “Nan said something like that too.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection, hugging herself through the pain.

  “She would. I always loved Moira. She introduced your entire race to a type of logic and understanding that not many in the world have seen.” I felt her, you know. Fading away as I transported myself here. That’s how I was able to find you. There are no words to make your pain better, but you will always carry her in your heart.” The witch reached out and smoothed a hand down Mykah’s hair, and she must have sent a bit of magic with it because Mykah felt calmer than she had a minute ago.

  “Winter, what am I going to do? I’m not ready to go.” With no other alternative in sight, she knew the question was almost pointless. Still, she couldn’t help asking.

  “Do you know how many different people have asked me that through the years? How many lives I could have changed merely by whispering a hint of their future to them? Not once have I interfered in the lives of the fae. Not once in thousands of years. Princess, you have to know that for you I would move the skies themselves if it could change your destiny. I can’t change it, though. You don’t deserve the fate I can feel weighing down on you even now. I don’t know why I couldn’t feel it before, in the Blood Court. No one can help you. It tears me apart because I’ve seen what waits for you. The darkness not even I can escape. I’m so very sorry that you have to endure pain simply because you were born with a gift you can’t ever hope to control.” Winter didn’t look at her, but the witch’s skin was glowing effervescent.

  Fear flooded her mind, her muscles tightening while she wanted to contradict all of the things Winter was saying. Her throat constricted on the words she was trying to force out. “What–um, what is waiting for me, Winter?”

  “Right now? There’s a group of people hoping you haven’t disappeared off the face of the planet, and one very anxious vampire hoping to see you again. Right now, we go back to the Malice Court. There’s nothing else you can do.” Winter finally looked back at her, and there was a sense of understanding that Mykah didn’t expect to see in her eyes.

  Winter understood that she was going to have to sacrifice everything, without a possibility of living through whatever was coming. “I could do it now. I could tell her that she’s won and go with her now.” But she knew that wasn’t the right answer. Giving up after everything she had done to survive seemed like the coward’s way out, even if there was no chance.

  Winter echoed her thoughts. “You don’t want to do that, princess.”

  But then, she thought about what it was going to do to her to see the people she cared about and not be able to tell them that everything was useless, she was going to die anyway. “Why not? Why go through the torture of seeing them all again? I’m just going to die, and then it’ll hurt them all more.”

  “No. You’re so very wrong about that. I have seen impossible things happen. I have seen so many outcomes that should never have happened do just that. Don’t give up.” There was blind faith in the witch’s voice, but as much as Mykah wanted to grab ahold of it with both hands and never let go, she couldn’t.

  Shaking her head, she turned away and looked into the sky. “Nan told me there’s nothing I can do to put it off. She told me that I’m going to die.” Wringing her hands together helped relieve a bit of the stress that was coursing through her veins.

  “Why not fight?” Winter argued with her, refusing to back down. “You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Your grandmother was wise, that’s true. She kept herself confined to a world that only revolved around the fae, and that was her downfall. She loved her family, she loved you and Jessica both, but she loved the fae people so much more. If she believed that sacrificing herself would benefit her people she would have done it in a heartbeat. That includes her family. If sacrificing you is the easiest and quickest way to ensure the safety of the fae, she wouldn’t search for any other answer.” She couldn’t stand the look in the witch’s eyes anymore, so she looked away.

  She looked away from the truth. Winter was right. Moira was a loving grandmother, but she was a queen of the fae. Her responsibility would always be the fae people as a whole.

  “You’re right. Although, I guess you already knew that.” She couldn’t help the snarkiness that crept into her voice.

  As Winter’s power wrapped itself around them and started transporting them back to the Malice Court, Mykah swore that she heard the witch say, “I really wish I wasn’t, it’s going to kill him to lose you.” The magic wound its way through her very being, and before she had a chance to think, they were reappearing in her chambers.

  “I thought you’d like some time alone before the horde of royals descends on you for answers.” Winter smiled gently at her, and Mykah found herself reaching for the witch.

  Her arm froze as it was almost to the other woman. The milliseconds stretched into hours as she felt what was coming for her. The mother of all, the being she had avoided for five years, was approaching. Her magic was dark, hungry, and leaching the energy from her soul. There would be no escape, no chance to fight. She had run out of time. Shaking herself loose of the immobilizing fear that had grasped her, she forced a smile.

  She didn’t have much time. “Winter,” she began, “I heard what you said, but I know, in the bottom of my stomach, that I’m going to have to go with her when she comes. Thank you, for making me come back. I need to tell you what Moira said about the fate of magic though. You can help the others when it comes time.” Mykah felt the magic pulling at her, and her breathing became difficult.

  “What, princess? What did the ancient one say?” Winter didn’t deny that Mykah would have to leave, and she felt grateful for the witch’s honesty.

  “She told me that each of the realms will have to solve their own problems before we can save magic. That each of them will have a part to play and that only by working together will they be able to save the world.” She felt her heart grow heavy, and every breath was more difficult to take. The key was thrumming against her chest, but there was no power emanating from it. “Winter, you need to leave.” She whispered the words, hoping that the other woman wouldn’t question it.

  Thankfully, she didn’t. The knowing look in her eyes said more than enough. Winter knew what was ha
ppening. With a parting hug and a kiss on her forehead, Winter left her to face the onslaught of the mother of all. The way it was always meant to be, alone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “You have been running for so long, princess. I was shocked to see your power in the fae realm.” Darkness crept from every corner of the room and shrouded the source of the voice, keeping Mykah from looking into the face of the creature who had condemned her to die.

  She was grateful not to have to look into those eyes. She didn’t want to see the evil lurking under the surface. So many people had taken comfort in the thought of the mother over the years that her image had changed to one of a positive connotation, but Mykah knew better. She knew that the mother had absorbed all of the evil that people had fed into the world as well as all of the goodness. The same nurturing mother that the masses had thought of throughout time was the one who created famine and death for no other reason than she had a whim.

  “Nothing to say, princess?” The creature’s arms swept through the air, and the darkness followed, compelling Mykah to look up and into the tortured face that must have once been beautiful.

  “Mother of all.” She inclined her head after a moment, unable to stand the growing feeling of anguish that was taking over her body. Knowing she was on unsteady feet, she placed a hand on one of the posts of her bed.

  “You know, princess, you choose to only see one side of me. You control what you see when I am here. You chose to only see the punishment as evil, a way to take something from you. And because of that, you only see me as a creature of evil. You refuse to see me as the same being that kept you alive when your mother passed. You believe I am punishing you by asking that you sacrifice yourself for your people, but have you thought about them?” Mykah found herself looking back into the empty black eyes of the darkness.

  “I did this for them! The sprites were killing our father, the king of the dark fae. I did the only thing I could to protect him.” The anger she had felt for so long filled her soul once more, and she could feel the last remnants of her magic trying to act.

  The mother of all waved one hand, and her power was useless. The hood was pulled back, and even though the shadows clung to her face; the scarring was unmistakable. She, because the creature was a woman, was terrible to see. Disease had devastated the visage in front of her, and the pain was written plainly on her face.

  “Child. You wouldn’t listen then, and you won’t listen now.” She spoke as though Mykah were throwing a temper tantrum. “You think you saw sprites killing your father. You think that you know so much about what is going on. Still, you don’t know anything, girl.”

  “I saw those sprites kill my father, I saw it. You can’t tell me that I didn’t.” Her voice was cracking under the stress of what was happening and the power of the other woman, but she had to fight for control. She couldn’t give up.

  The mother was having none of her words. She motioned to the bed, and Mykah felt compelled to sit while listening to what the other woman was saying.

  “You didn’t know anything then, and in the five years that have passed you have learned nothing.” She was exasperated, it was evident in her voice. “You listen to bits and pieces and think that you know everything. Your father was a good man, a good king. He knew that he had to do whatever he could to secure the future of the fae, the future of the world. He was the last known user of blood magic, before that night. Your father died to save his people, but you undid everything he had just accomplished. You destroyed the very grove containing his last spell.”

  “I destroyed the creatures that took my father.” But she stopped speaking when the mother gave her a harsh look, and the acceptance in her black eyes ensured that Mykah wouldn’t interrupt again.

  “All that I asked of you was that you make the same sacrifice. Yet, you acted like a spoiled child. Refusing to do your part to save us all. What right did you have to make that choice? What right did you have to turn me down? I am the mother of all creation. I gave your race the magic that you possess.” Mykah looked away from the darkness and felt herself grow weary of fighting. Of course, the mother of all was right. She had given the fae all of their power, and she could take it away with the twitch of her hand.

  “So yes, when you turned me down and tried to walk away, I could not let you go unscathed. You would lose your magic. You would lose everything until you make the choice to do what is right. The puzzle that weighs on your chest was bound with the song of destiny. The fae call it the song of power, but that is because they had no word for destiny when I taught it to them. No matter what you or anyone else does, you’ll never be able to unravel it. The only way to loosen its hold on your heart is to embrace your fate.” The darkness spoke to her now like a cherished loved one, her words caressing Mykah’s skin.

  But like a child, Mykah didn’t understand why she had to be the one to suffer. Finally willing to ask the question to the one who had cursed her, she found her voice. “Why me? Why did all of this have to happen to me?”

  A look of surprise crossed the mother’s face, and then she smiled a terribly beautiful smile that seemed to light the darkness from within. “Because, child. Your sister was meant to lead your realm, that is true. You, though, you were meant to save them all.” She couldn’t believe her eyes as the shadows began to shift.

  The scars covering the old woman’s face lifted, and her eyes transformed. Where a leper had stood only moments before, now stood the most beautiful woman that Mykah had ever seen. The gown she was wearing was still black, but in it, every color was held. With every movement, there was a barrage of color released. Blonde hair fell to the ground, with rose petals attached in place by tiny tendrils that had wound themselves into the strands around them. To call her stunning was an understatement. She shone from within with a brightness that Mykah had never seen. This, this was the shape that so many other people saw when they thought of the mother.

  “Now, child. You begin to see. There are two sides to every story. They must all be told.” When she reached for Mykah, she moved into the arms of the mother and let herself weep.

  When enough time had passed that the tears had stopped falling, Mykah felt a shift in the other woman. “Are you ready to listen and not just hear? Are you ready to learn the truth? Not only of your fate but the fate of the ones you care about as well?” Her voice, which had seemed to fill Mykah with malice and dread for so long, offered freedom and serenity now.

  “Yes.” She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. Here was the person she had spent so long running from, offering her the answers to the questions she had been asking.

  “Every realm has a history, this is true.” Mykah had read about the various histories growing up, so she knew that much. “But the world itself has a greater one. One that is so much more important. There is magic everywhere and in every living thing, the amount that each realm harnesses are infinitesimal compared to the amount that passes through the world.”

  When the mother didn’t continue, Mykah grew impatient. “I know that. We learn about it as children.”

  “Of course you do,” she said in a placating tone. “But just like a scale that is balanced, when one half loses or gains too much, the balance is thrown off. That is what has happened. The world has lost too much of its magic, and the realms are trying to make up the difference. In the process of doing so, they are draining themselves completely. Each realm must be saved. Before the unthinkable happens.”

  “What do you mean?” Confusion won out over the litany of emotions that were flying around in her mind.

  “Every member of a realm draws power from their court,” the mother said. “It is the center of their power. When you destroyed the grove the night your father died, you destroyed the power source for all the dark fae. The only thing keeping your realm alive is the shared link with the light fae, and the power it has been draining from you for the past five years. Once you have no more power to give, the power will have to come from somewhere. T
he weakest among our kind will be drained, selected to ensure the survival of the world.”

  Mykah knew she couldn’t let that happen. No matter what, regardless of her own feelings. “What can I do?” There was so much more at stake than pride.

  “You must harness what remains of your magic, what I have sealed away in your heart against the realm, and you must use your blood magic to bring back the grove. Your father was able to use his magic to rejuvenate the grove. He created a renewable source of power for the dark fae realm, and you must bring it back.”

  “I don’t know how to do that. I’ve never used blood magic before that night, and I haven’t used it since.” Mykah was scared. Using that magic had changed her entire world, and she didn’t even understand how it worked.

  “I know, child. You must go to the Eternal Isles. The only ones who can teach you to control and harness this magic have faded from this world.”

  The Eternal Isles, the afterworld for the fae. “But you’re telling me that I have to die. Just to learn how to use this magic. How can I do that, and come back? I’ll be gone, forever.” Everyone knew that once a fae had gone to the isles that there was no chance of returning.

  “No, child. You must trust me. Trust in the power your sister holds as well. Do you think it is a coincidence that you have both been given these gifts?” The mother of all smiled at her.

  “But there are no other blood magic users.” There had to be confusion etched into her features as well, because the mother reached out and placed her hand on top of Mykah’s, offering a gentle squeeze.

  All she said was, “I need you to trust in me.” Then waited in silence for an answer.

  Even though she wanted to, there had been years when the very thought of the mother had been enough to drive Mykah into a puddle of fear. “I’m so scared. I don’t want to die.”