Parting Worlds - A Little Mermaid Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 4)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  "Should we go see what they found?"

  "I told you, I'm alone."

  "Oh, I've no doubt of that, brother. All this time, I’d been certain you were sneaking out of the castle to meet with a girl, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out who'd want to tarnish their reputation with you. This makes much more sense." He snickers, and the sound is echoed by the other men behind him. "You and a sorry telescope. Pathetic."

  "If it's so pathetic, why did you follow me out here?"

  "Follow you?" He laughs again, though it sounds a little shallower, a little more forced. Still, the others repeat the sound, giving it weight. "I'm on a hunt. While you've been busy studying your precious stars, Father and I have been making plans—plans that require magic. I'm out here to find it."

  "What plans? What magic?"

  "You'll have to ask him."

  "Wait—"

  "Just because you thought you were alone, Erick, doesn't mean you are. Unlike your pet, my hounds have discipline, and they wouldn't alert if they hadn't found something they know I'll like."

  Metal jingles—the sound of human armor coming closer. The dogs scratch at the bark, aching for my flesh. My heartbeat quickens.

  What do I do? What do I do?

  "Psst!"

  I jerk my head up. Nymia?

  "Psst! It's me."

  "You're here!"

  Oh, thank the Mother. I can’t see her, but I know that voice better than my own and I smell the sweet perfume of her magic. My sister is here. She came.

  "Of course I'm here. I've been here the whole time," she grumbles, and I smile picturing the frown I know is written across her face. "The question is how are we getting out of here, and I don't think you're going to like the answer."

  The branch I'm sitting on thickens and grows, extending toward the branch of a nearby tree. The two connect and harden, transforming into a bridge. The leaves shake as she stumbles across and the hounds go wild, snapping their jaws with enough force that even from this height I wince. A hand comes around my wrist, and immediately, the dark blanket of Father's shadows wraps around me. I really do need to learn how to do this spell on my own.

  "I told you it was dangerous," she whispers.

  I stare at her pointedly, able to see her face now that we're in the magic together. "Is now really the time for that?"

  She shrugs.

  The humans step into eyesight, glancing up toward the top of the tree where we're hidden in the branches. In the darkness of night, they'll never see us. We blend in too well. I take a breath for the first time in minutes and clutch Nymia's hand.

  "What do you think is up there?" one of the boys whispers.

  "There's only one way to find out."

  A loud thwack shatters the silence.

  Nymia and I gasp as the entire tree shakes.

  "Hakon, do you really think this is necessary?" Erick asks. I can tell he's trying to be calm, but there's panic in his voice.

  His only answer is another thwack.

  I peek down in time to see a sharp metal edge flashing silver beneath the moon. "They're cutting down the tree! What do we do?"

  "I already did something."

  I pause, noting the apology in her tone. "What?"

  "Something you won't like, but I didn’t have a choice."

  "What, Nymia? Wh—" But then I see it. Lines of water slither across the ground like fluid snakes, joining into a small pool that flashes with a rainbow sheen of magic—a faerie portal. The hounds lift their noses to the air, smelling the power on the wind. It's advanced magic I know my sister can't perform, which means one thing. "You didn't."

  "I did."

  She called for help—I can't believe it! The priestesses taught us the spell as children, in case we were ever in need of aid. It's a single ancient word that emerges from one's lips like a firefly, then zips toward its target. I'm not sure if I want to throttle her or thank her. Before I decide, the tree shudders as another thwack of metal on wood reverberates across the forest, and Nymia quickly takes my hand.

  "You can hate me later."

  Then she jumps, forcing me to fall with her. We plummet to the ground as no more than two shadows in the night. The last thing I hear before our feet touch the water is the howl of angry hounds, and then we're gone.

  We slip into the vortex, barreling through time and space as the world becomes nothing more than dark shadows and flashing colors. By the time I open my eyes, we're back in the sacred meadow, splayed across the grass beneath the wrath of one very angry priestess.

  "What were you thinking?" Priestess Sytrene shouts. Her normally tan skin has gone as ashen as her ivory robes, pale with fright. Behind her, the eternal fire blazes, silhouetting her in an angry crimson glow.

  I flinch.

  I've never once heard her raise her voice so loud.

  "I'm sorry," we both chorus.

  "What were you doing on human lands?"

  "We, um…"

  "How did you get across the protection spell without my knowing?"

  "Uh… We, well…"

  "Who were those boys? How did they find you?"

  "Um…"

  I cringe back and Nymia bites her lip. Priestess Sytrene leans down, towering over us from above. The magic beneath her skin blazes brighter and brighter the longer we remain silent, and the diamonds on her diadem glow red, mirroring her mood.

  "Nymia," she says more softly, slightly cajoling. My sister wilts. "You called for my aid. I gave it. Now tell me what's going on."

  "We were on a walk," she says weakly.

  "Nymia." Priestess Sytrene is sterner this time. "I demand answers. You're both young. I understand, I was young once too. But there are things going on, things you don't understand. Now is not the time to be breaking rules. I need the truth. It's the only way to keep all of us safe."

  "We were, um, in the woods…" Nymia swallows and turns to me. "We, um—"

  "It's my fault," I cut in, because I know my sister will break under this amount of pressure. And it's my secret anyway. "I forced her—"

  "I know, Aerewyn," Priestess Sytrene interrupts, silencing me with a stern glance. For the first time, there's no love in her eyes, only frustration. The realization leaves me cold. "Just as I know that if I ask these questions of you, all I'll receive in return are lies. I want honesty. Now."

  I force my lips shut.

  Nymia trembles beside me but stays quiet.

  Priestess Sytrene glances between us, frown deepening, then sighs. "Clearly, the time for treating you like children is over—you will learn obedience, one way or another."

  Before we can move, she grabs our hands and holds them in the flames until metal cuffs wrap around each of our wrists, cutting off our magic, as though removing a limb. The absence stings. I hate losing touch with my magic, but it's a punishment I've endured before. For a moment, I think that's it—that maybe we got off easy. Then she blows a wind through her lips. We stumble back in the swell. My knees hit something hard and I land in a floral seat. Roots wrap around my arms and legs holding me in place. By our feet, a pool of water grows. The surface glimmers with magic. I've used this spell enough times to recognize it—scrying water. But what is Priestess Sytrene looking for? What does she know? I meet Nymia's eyes, which are wide with alarm and something else—awareness.

  My heart starts racing.

  A palm lands on my head, then twists my face around and pushes me forward so I stare into the pond. Magic crawls into my scalp, sinking beneath my skin like water through a crack, filling every empty spot until my mind is no longer my own. It's unlike any power I've felt before.

  "Where have you been going when you sneak out at night?"

  The scrying water ripples.

  I try not to think, not to breathe, but it's like trying to bottle the ocean. The magic tugs my memories out of hiding and hurls them onto the liquid surface. As soon as I try not to think of something, it's suddenly all I can see. There's no way to stop it. To my mounting h
orror, the cave sharpens into focus across the pool.

  Priestess Sytrene gasps. "What is this place?"

  The image shifts and zooms, closing in on my collection, skipping over the magical things and leaping right to the very items I know will be my doom—the music box, the slippers, the compass, the bow and arrows, everything Erick has brought me.

  "Where did you find these things?"

  The horn, I think, remembering the day I found it nestled in the reeds of the riverbank, ripe for the taking. The horn. The horn.

  The scene changes to that of a clear day. The river surges toward us and in the emerald grasses there's a bright flash of gold. I relax for an instant, but it’s as though the magic knows. Or maybe just Priestess Sytrene, instincts as sharp as those dragon scales I hid in the dark. My vision spots as her power digs deeper, as if claws scrape through my mind. She's an eagle clutching its prey with no intention of letting go. My thoughts whirl.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  It's pointless.

  Erick's face blooms across the water—the slight groove of his dimples, the swoop of his dark hair, and the bright sapphire of his eyes. My traitorous heart warms at the sight, telling Priestess Sytrene everything she needs to know. The picture changes as she shuffles through my thoughts, all our private moments on display by my feet. The fingers gripping my skull clench tight enough to bring a tear to my eye from the pain.

  "A human?" I've never heard her so furious. "You've been meeting with a human?"

  "Yes," I whisper, voice cracking. "But he's different. He's not—"

  "How? How have you been sneaking past the protection spell?"

  The memory of Nymia and me holding hands beneath the river plays, and Priestess Sytrene lets us go with a snarl. I ricochet in my seat, held up only by the restraints as the connection to her magic abruptly snaps.

  "I've been lenient with you for far too long," she seethes. "It ends now."

  With her hands poised above the water, the scene returns to my cave. She mutters the ancient words for a faerie portal, each syllable ripe with power. Magic shoots from her palms, sinking into the pool and disappearing into the vortex.

  "No!" I shout, but it's too late.

  Before my eyes, the music box shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. My dainty silk slippers catch fire and disintegrate into little more than embers. One by one, all my human items explode or combust, until the only thing left is shards. Then the rocks themselves rumble, slipping and sliding, as the roof collapses beneath her might. The ground below us quakes with the force, felt even from here.

  Tears streak down my cheeks, but she's not done. Priestess Sytrene lifts her hands to the sky and shoots glittering waves of power into the night. They rise as high as my eye can see, then fan out in a dome all around us, undulating like the air above a fire. It's the protection spell being refortified and strengthened, removing my only avenue of escape.

  Still, it's not over.

  She returns her gaze to the water and Erick's face appears. But it's not one of my memories. It's now. He's back at our cave, gaze narrowed as he hugs Ru to his chest. Debris clings to his skin. The dust and soot are so thick I can hardly see behind him. Gritty determination lights his eyes, and I recognize it for what it is—the fight for survival.

  He came to find me.

  He came to make sure I was okay.

  Now he'll die for it.

  "Don't kill him," I beg. "Please, please don’t kill him."

  "That choice is yours, Aerewyn," Priestess Sytrene tells me. "Our world requires balance, and your antics have thrown that careful stasis to the wind. The only way I can let him live is if you swear you will never speak to him again. I'm not playing games any longer."

  "I'll swear it," I cry. "Anything, please. I won't speak to him again, I promise."

  "You've lied too many times for your words to mean anything."

  I gulp and meet her gaze. Her amber eyes blaze with fury, but in the dark shadows of her pupils, disappointment cleaves like a deep ravine. It's almost worse than the anger. She didn’t want to bring us to this point—I pushed her.

  Priestess Sytrene produces a blade from the wind and slices it across her palm, her milky faerie blood luminescent beneath the moon. The roots holding my right hand down loosen until I can pull it free. I don't fight. I just hold it up to the sky. She carves the metal into my skin, then wraps her fingers around mine. The magic in our blood pulses between us, a tight bond waiting to be sealed.

  "Aerewyn, do you swear on the Mother and the Father and all their magic within you that you will never speak to this human boy again, so long as you live?"

  The power surges.

  So do my tears.

  "I swear on the Mother and the Father and all their magic within me that I will never speak to this human boy again, so long as I live."

  The threads between us fuse, solidified by magic and blood, into an unbreakable faerie oath. Priestess Sytrene pulls her hand away. Mine drops lifelessly by my side.

  It's done.

  I can never speak to Erick again.

  If I do, I'll lose my magic, my body, and my soul.

  If I do, I'll turn to nothing more than dust.

  Priestess Sytrene deposits us in a burrow and tosses a globe of faerie light into the air to illuminate the underground hovel. After she leaves, roots stretch across the opening, locking us inside. I've never felt the absence of my magic more. All I want to do is call a puddle from the ground and mumble the ancient words. All I want to do is catch one glimpse of Erick's face in the scrying water, enough to let me know he's okay, enough to reassure me that he survived.

  By my side, Nymia whimpers.

  I spin, noticing her pain for the first time as shame burns in my gut. These past few weeks have made me selfish. Even now, all I think about is myself.

  "Nymia?" I whisper, voice hoarse.

  She takes an uneven breath, shaking her head slightly, unable to look up from the floor. I take her hand in mine and squeeze gently. When she finally lifts her head, tears glisten on her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Aerewyn. I'm so sorry. I didn't— I never— I—"

  She breaks off as her voice cracks, and I draw her into my arms. After all this, she's sorry to me? For me? I'm not sure I deserve such faith and loyalty.

  "You didn’t do anything wrong," I murmur into her hair. "You were only doing what you thought was best. This is my fault. It’s all my fault."

  "No. No—I think…" She pulls back and meets my gaze. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I think maybe, on some level, I wanted to get caught, Aerewyn." I suck in a sharp breath and she rushes to continue. "I saw those humans and I saw we were surrounded and I couldn't see a way out. Still, I knew that if I called for help, Priestess Sytrene would know we'd snuck out of faerie lands without her knowing. On some level, I think maybe I hoped getting caught would end all the lying, but I never thought—I never dreamed—she'd find out about the cave, about your human. I've never seen a spell like that before."

  "Me neither."

  Priestess Sytrene was right—we're just children. I have magic in my skin, but I barely know how to use it. Tonight, I tasted true power, the kind thousands of years in the making. We didn't stand a chance, especially with these metal cuffs that leave us barren.

  I wonder if that's how humans always feel in the face of magic—helpless, awed, afraid. The very thought makes me shiver.

  "Can you ever forgive me?" Nymia asks.

  I blink, returning to the present, to my sister. "Of course I forgive you. You've done everything I've ever asked. You kept my secrets, and tonight, I know you were just trying to keep me safe. I probably would've been captured by the humans if you hadn't been there, watching my back the way you always do. I'm the one who should be begging for forgiveness. The only reason you're stuck in here is me."

  "I'd rather be in here with you, locked up and magicless, than out there on my own."

  We both turn toward the muddy walls. My thoughts travel
beyond them, across the sacred meadow, through the forests, and to the cave that's now little more than rubble. I close my eyes against the picture forming inside my head, painted by nightmares and dread.

  "Do you think he's all right?" I hate how my voice quivers, but I can't help it. "Do you think—"

  "He is," Nymia cuts in before I break, and wraps her arms around my shoulders. "He is, I know he is. You swore the oath. Priestess Sytrene would never break her promise. He's probably home by now, safe and sound."

  I want to believe her.

  I do.

  But I can't stop the flood of doubts rushing like an avalanche down the side of a mountain, burying me in uncertainty. Suddenly, it takes all my strength just to breathe. My throat constricts as my chest pulls tight. I sink and my sister falls with me, trying to stop the tremors. A sob barrels up my throat, so swift I fear I might choke on it. Nymia holds me, letting me cry until my tears soak the rosy petals of her dress. Now that I've started, I don’t know how to stop. The night crashes over me, a tidal wave ripping my roots from the ground.

  I can never speak to Erick again.

  No more stories.

  No more laughter.

  No more stolen kisses in the dark.

  "What am I going to do? Oh, Nymia, what am I going to do?"

  "Shh," she soothes, running her fingers through my hair while I weep into her chest. "It'll be okay. We'll get our magic back. You'll move on from this. Before long, it'll seem like a distant memory."

  I stiffen, but bite my tongue.

  She doesn’t understand. Despite all those nights helping me sneak out and all those times witnessing the diamonds in my eyes, she still thinks it's a passing phase, something to get out of my system. She doesn’t see that he's become a part of me, woven into my soul. She doesn’t understand that though I have no wound, I bleed so deeply I may as well lie limp across the floor. She may have watched us in the meadow, may have seen his lips against my lips, but she didn’t hear the words we spoke.