by Lily Baldwin
“Free me. Touch yer blade to my chain.”
He did as she had bade, and magically, the chain dropped to the ground with a clatter that echoed deep into the forest. He stiffened, surprised by the way the noise had carried. And then, as if in answer to the mighty din, a thunderous growl rent the air, followed by the sound of trees being felled to the ground. The crashing and growling moved toward them, closer and closer.
She cowered, vivid fear glittering in her eyes. “’Tis my master.”
Owen gripped his dirk. “Let yer master come. I’m not afraid. ‘Tis time he answered for his ill treatment of ye.”
“Ye don’t understand,” she said in a rush.
“Nay,” he said forcefully. “Ye don’t understand. I am a mountain dweller. I’m hard and strong and I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.”
His words seemed to stir something within her. Nostrils flared, she straightened and took a deep breath. Then she closed her eyes and raised her arms, her palms faced outward.
Owen’s eyes widened as ribbons of mist coiled from her fingertips, swirling in a languid dance before settling on the ground in a smoky mound. His heart racing, he retreated until his back pressed against the cage bars as he watched the mist take form and shape. Suddenly, a replica of the woman standing next to him was lying on the floor, chained and curled in a tight ball, fast asleep.
He gasped and gestured to the sleeping creature, unable to speak his question.
“She isn’t real. Ye’ve naught to fear. I’ve created an illusion, one that will fool my master but not for long. We must get down!”
Checking to see that she followed, he scaled down the tree. Like before, branches seemed to shift and move, forming a stairwell to the forest floor.
Once his feet touched down, he turned and reached up to her. When she rested her hands on his shoulders, again, her eyes brightened, becoming as dark as amethysts. But when her toes touched down, the color faded.
“Run,” she cried without hesitation.
Despite her weak appearance, he was surprised by the speed at which she raced.
Following after her, the forest moved and shifted as if it were alive and guiding their path. And then he spied the glade into which he had awakened. Charging forward to overtake her, he seized her hand and started pulling her toward the opening in the trees.
“Nay,” she cried, yanking her arm free.
“Ye must trust me,” he said, resisting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and force her to heed his choice. Having just helped to restore her freedom, he refused to use his strength to overpower her. “Please, trust me!”
But she shook her head. “Ye cannot go back to yer land the way ye came. There is only one path that will lead ye home again. Follow me!” She turned and ran.
He had no choice but to dart after the mysterious woman. Then, suddenly, the forest erupted around them with a growl infinitely more intense than the first.
“Cranor has discovered my trick! I’ve angered him even more!”
Owen’s heart pounded as he fought to keep up. The din behind them grew closer. “Whatever gives chase is nearly upon us,” he shouted.
She slowed and ushered him in front of her. Despite her dull, tangled black hair and the tattered rag she wore, in that moment, she had the bearing of a queen. Raising her rail thin arms over her head, her palms faced outwardly, she closed her eyes. An instant later, mist rose up from the earth, surrounding them.
“It will obscure our path and slow him down.” Her brow pinched with worry the instant before she charged forward again. “I only hope we have enough time!”
“Time for what?” he asked as he sprinted to catch up.
“Time to get where we’re going,” she shot back.
“Where are we going?” he yelled as she raced ahead with unnatural speed.
But she did not glance back.
Ahead of them, the dense forest parted, the trees seemingly yielding to her will. Following her lead, he burst into a glen filled with shimmering orbs of light that danced and wove through the air. Myriad flowers, rich and vibrant, covered the ground and sparkled as if dusted in gold. And in its center was a pool, which shone with such radiance and beauty that his heart hurt to look upon it. Pressing his hand to his aching chest, he suddenly realized that he could feel his own mortality. He was different than the stalk of every plant in that glen, than the air he breathed, and the magical woman who stood before him. Now, he knew without a doubt that he was far from home, in a place where few humans had ever tread.
And then something wondrous stole his breath. His hands hung limp at his sides as he watched the downtrodden woman he had saved slowly transform before his eyes.
Her lifeless hair thickened and grew and began to shine with an iridescence that gave her locks a violet sheen. Her faded eyes widened, becoming clear and sharp and deepened in color to bright amethyst just as he had glimpsed earlier in the forest. Her wiry, starved body filled out, becoming lush with feminine curves, and her skin now had a dewy glow.
Dumbstruck, he stared at her, incapable of speech. She had blossomed as vibrantly as the magical flowers at his feet. And then he realized that the pool had begun to bubble playfully and the shimmering lights circled around her, their dance quickening as they, too, celebrated her body’s renewal.
Then she turned to face him.
He swallowed hard and dropped to his knees, humbled by what he’d witnessed. “Ye’re beautiful,” he rasped.
Her brows drew together as if his words had made her cross. “I’ve not always looked like this. I was once considered rather plain. If ye only knew what I sacrificed to obtain this beauty, then ye’d know how truly wretched I am.” Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath and offered him her hand. “Ye cannot linger here. This place will not be easy for my master’s dark heart to find, but ‘tis only a matter of time before he does.”
Confused and still wanting to champion her, he asked, “If yer soul is so far from redemption, then how did ye find this place when yer master cannot?”
Her expression softened. Tentatively, she reached out a hand that trembled as she grazed the backs of her fingers down his cheek. “It was not my soul that opened this glen. It was yours.” She snaked her hand away suddenly and cleared her throat. “And now ye must go. Step into the pool. The water will take ye home.”
He clasped her hands and drew them close to his chest. “Come with me.”
She shook her head. “I cannot follow where ye go. Listen to me. This is yer chance. Take it, or else ye might be trapped here, forever...like me.”
Images of his people, his family, everyone who depended on him flashed in his mind’s eye.
Somehow, she seized on to his thoughts. “Ye know yer needed. Think not of yerself or yer confusion in this moment. Think of those ye love.” She squeezed his hands. “My life has been long compared to yers. I have done much I regret. It took a long time for me to learn, but now I know that above all else—kindness matters most, love is the only true power, and ye must take care of those in need.” She slowly, released his hands and stepped back. Then, motioning to the pool, she said firmly, “Go to yer people. Without ye, they will suffer.”
He shook his head. “By yer own words, I cannot leave ye here. What about ye, yer need?”
She stood tall, a glint of steel coming into her vibrant eyes. “I’m not afraid of my fate—whether good or ill. I’m doing what’s right, and so must ye.” She took his hand and led him to the shimmering pool. He looked down at the waters that began to churn. Whispers, lilting and ethereal, reached his ears, but he knew not the meaning of the words. “What does the water say?”
“Whatever words ye hear are not for my ears. The water speaks to ye, but ye mustn’t think to know the meaning, ye must feel. What do ye feel?”
He closed his eyes, letting the fae breeze and trickling song fill him from the inside out. “Hope,” he whispered. “I feel hope.” He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. “Don’t y
e feel that?”
“Hope has no place among immortals. Ye feel an urgency we do not. Only humans have hope.”
A pang cut through his heart, realizing his surroundings were not as magical or as wondrous as he had first thought. “What is life without hope?”
Her gaze went cold, her eyes vacant. “Welcome to my world.” She shook her head. Once more, warmth imbued her gaze. “Ye must surrender to the water. The pool will bring ye where ye wish to go.”
“Come with me,” he urged her again. How could he leave her to the emptiness and sorrow he felt surrounding her, stretching before her for all eternity?
“I cannot,” she said simply.
Refusing to give up the very thing for which his mortal heart beat—hope—he began to entreat her once again. “Lass, ye must listen to reason. Ye—”
But then a force like a battering ram slammed against the surrounding forest wall. He jerked around. The trees strained inwardly.
“Cranor has found us,” she said, her voice deadly soft.
No fear shone in her eyes. She hadn’t even flinched at the noise, but her hands, which were gripped in tight fists at her sides, belied her calm.
“Do not sacrifice yerself or yer people for me,” she said, weakly. “I’m not worth it.”
Her self-defeating words tore at his heart. He closed the distance between them in one step and cupped her cheeks between his hands. “Never say that again.” And then he kissed her, and it was as if lightning sliced through him the moment their lips touched. Filled with an ache that was both sweet and agonizing, he pulled away just enough for his gaze to meet hers. “Did ye feel that?”
She cupped his cheek with her hand. “I did.” A slight smile curved her lips. “I’ve felt it before, many times.”
There was something playful and girlish in her reply, and, in that moment, he glimpsed the part of her that had once been human. He leaned close, his lips seeking hers, but she pulled away.
“I’m no good for ye.” Anger filled her gaze, but he knew without a doubt that her rage was for herself, alone. And when she spoke, it was with fierce conviction and finality. “Only one man could have unlocked my chains.” She took a step back. “Ye’ve come back to me, but I don’t deserve ye.”
He shook his head, grappling to understand her words. “What de ye mean when ye say that I’ve come back to ye? I’ve never laid eyes on ye before.”
The forest cracked and groaned.
“Go,” she croaked. “He will kill ye as easily as ye might pick one of the flowers at yer feet. And all who love ye will suffer for it.” She swallowed hard. “Believe me. I know this to be true. Go!
“But I don’t even know yer name.”
“Go,” she shouted, her voice echoed with power, the sound striking his heart like the blow of a fist. He stumbled back. The lights sped around him. Even the flowers seemed to push him toward the pool. With regret filling his heart, he stood at the water’s edge. He felt the pool’s song, its meaning unmistakable—he was running out of time.
He looked up, seeking her gaze. They locked eyes. “Come back to me,” he said, his words intentionally mirroring hers. And then he held his breath and stepped into the pool and sunk beneath the watery surface.
Chapter Three
Desperate, Gwynn collapsed to her knees as he vanished beneath the churning turquoise water. Filled with immediate regret, she lunged at the pool to dive beneath the ripples of his wake, but her fingers struck ice.
The pool had frozen over, blocking her way.
“Nay,” she cried, scratching at the frosty surface, straining to glimpse his golden hair, long and wild, his strong features, and kind brown eyes. But she saw only shadow.
He was gone, forever.
She dropped her head onto her arms and sobbed while her master pounded against the magical barricade.
When her tears were spent, she sat up and swiped at her cheeks. Pain gripped her, soul-deep, but now she felt no regret—for she knew that had she been able to follow, she only would have brought him heartache and suffering.
Numb, she sat back, feeling the glen’s magic and her own weaken against her master’s powerful assault.
“Surrender,” she bade the trees dully. “Let the master come.” She swallowed the bitterness filling her mouth. “’Tis no more than I deserve.”
“Are ye sure about that?”
Gwynn jerked upright, scanning the glen, which was suddenly quiet as if Cranor’s attack had somehow been silenced. Fluttering above the pool, swathed in gossamer and light was a fairy, no bigger than her fist with long shimmering golden hair and bright, assessing eyes. “Who are ye?” Gwynn asked.
“I am the guardian of this pool.”
Gwynn eyed the fairy skeptically. “Why do ye only appear now?”
The fairy continued to give her an appraising look, then, at length, replied, “I only show myself to those who are worthy of heart. Gwynn, I wish to help ye.”
Gwynn took several steps back. “I don’t believe ye. My heart is worthy of nothing. What do ye really wish of me?”
The fairy canted her head to the side as she continued to study Gwynn. Her gaze was sharp and powerful as if the small creature could see straight into Gwynn’s soul, filling her with even greater shame. She wanted the fairy to go away. “If ye’re the so-called guardian of this pool, then ye must have frozen the way, trapping me here. How does that help me?”
A gentle smile curved the fairy’s lips. “I didn’t freeze the pool. Ye did.”
Gwynn pressed her hand to her chest. “Me? But that is beyond my powers. As a human bound to a creature of this realm, I’ve magic in me now, but only for illusions. How could I have done it?”
The fairy flew to the side of the pool and fluttered down to the ground. “Feel for yerself. ‘Tis only water.”
Hesitantly, Gwynn knelt beside the pool and slowly dragged her fingers across the surface. The ice faded to nothing and only the turquoise water remained. She gasped and choked on a sob, covering her mouth with her hand as she turned away.
“He offered ye salvation from our world and yer wicked master. Why did ye not allow yerself to follow him?”
She stiffened, trying to push the man’s warm gaze from her mind, but despite how she tried to forget, she heard him say...come back to me.
She shook her head. “I’ve sinned too grievously.”
“Gwynn,” the fairy said, drawing her gaze. “Everyone can find redemption if their remorse is true.”
“Nay,” she said, swallowing the fresh wave of tears. She cleared her throat and straightened her back. In the end, she had done the right thing by blocking her own way. “I would only bring him pain.”
“How can that be, when ye just saved his life?”
A tentative smile upturned the corners of her lips. “I did?”
“Ye did, and not just from yer master. In his world, he faced death, buried beneath an avalanche of snow. But his soul felt yers. Ye drew him to ye unknowingly and saved his life by pulling him into our world.”
Her heart started to pound. How could his soul have felt hers...unless...
She whirled around. “How did he unlock my chain?” she demanded.
“Ye know how,” the fairy answered, her voice soft.
Gwynn fisted her hands. “It truly was him,” she blurted.
“Lifetimes in the human world have passed, but yer souls still remember each other.”
Gwynn dropped to her knees beside the pool. “Come back, please,” she called to the still water.
She felt a tiny hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone.”
“Nay,” she gasped. Panic gripped her heart. She couldn’t breathe.
“Gwynn, listen to me. Ye’ve been given another chance!”
The fairy’s words cut through her racing thoughts but could not banish the doubt from her heart. Gasping for breath, her legs felt weak beneath the weight of regret. “Do I deserve one?”
The fairy lifted her gossamer-clad shoulders. “Onl
y ye can decide that. Do not think for a moment that uniting with yer true-love will be easy. Everything worthwhile, whether in this world or the next, requires hard work and sacrifice.”
Fear and shame fought to dominate her thoughts, but she took a deep breath and steeled her shoulders. “What must I do?”
“Ye must relinquish yer powers and choose a mortal life.”
Gwynn raked a shaky hand through her hair. There was a part of her that was afraid to be human again.
“I see yer fear. Aye, ye will again know pain of the flesh. Ye will know hunger, thirst, and cold.”
Gwynn considered the fairy’s words. “For lifetimes all I have felt is emptiness and despair. To feel truly alive again...’Tis more than I deserve.” She swallowed hard. “But I accept.”
The fairy’s expression held a note of caution. “There’s more.”
Gwynn stood to her full height. “There is no cost I will not pay for him.”
“He will have no memory of ye, of his time here. Even now he is waking up in the bitter cold with only a vague feeling of his experience. To him, meeting ye is no more than a dream that will fade away.”
“But he bade me come to him,” she cried. “Ye heard him. He said come back to me!”
“He will not remember, and, Gwynn, no longer will his soul bear yer mark.”
“But...how will I...If his soul doesn’t remember mine, how do I know that...”
“How do ye know that he will fall in love with ye?”
She nodded, unable to speak for the fear that now gripped her heart.
“Ye don’t know. Uncertainty is the price ye pay. Ye must relinquish all yer powers and yer immortality only for the chance of winning his heart.”
Her legs trembled. She wasn’t worthy of love.
The fairy flew close, fluttering just before her eyes. “Hold yer head high, Gwynn. I ken yer heart is true.”
“But—”
“Nay,” the fairy admonished. “Ye’ve made yerself small. The power Cranor has wielded over ye has, in part, been possible because ye’ve allowed him to dominate ye. Just as ye froze the pool to keep yerself from following yer heart.” The fairy gave Gwynn a hard look. “Before anyone can love ye, ye first must learn to love yerself.”
