The Fairies' Path

by Ava Corrigan

  Beatrix said, “Welcome to Aster Dell.”

  I turned, stunned. Where there had been empty mountainside, there was now a settlement in ruins. Everywhere I looked were crumbled walls or sunken roofs, destroyed by some unforgiving force.

  Beatrix continued, “It was a beautiful place. Full of people trying to live their lives. Until one winter, when Burned Ones surrounded the settlement. And a military unit from Alfea decided that destroying the creatures was more important than the lives of the innocent people here.”

  I tottered a few steps toward the ruins. “This isn’t real. You’re making this happen somehow.”

  “I’m simply piercing the magic veil that Queen Luna placed to hide the atrocity that happened here. Think about that: The leader of our realm tried to erase a war crime.”

  Beatrix gazed at me, and I saw more sincerity than I could have ever imagined was possible on that face. Beatrix walked over to me and stared at Aster Dell.

  “I was born here. And my family died here. On December 10, 2004. Two days before your First World birthday.”

  I realized now why she’d cared about my birth date. “You … you think my family was killed here.”

  “Not think,” said Beatrix. “Know. Because everyone here died. Except me. And you.”

  “I don’t understand. How could you know that?”

  “Because I saw it. Saw the death. The bodies. But someone scooped me up. Carried me away. But I saw them as we ran. Walking through the carnage like conquering heroes.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but I asked. “Who did you see?”

  Beatrix pronounced the names as if passing judgment. “Dowling. Silva. Harvey.”

  No. That didn’t make sense.

  “That’s … you were a baby. How do you know what you saw was real? That you remember the truth?”

  Beatrix said intensely, “Because the woman who saved me used her magic to burn the memory into my mind.”

  I knew now who Beatrix was talking about. Because the same thing had happened to me.

  “Rosalind …” I whispered. “She rescued you.”

  “She rescued us,” Beatrix corrected. “She had a crisis of conscience. Couldn’t bring herself to destroy a village, no matter how many Burned Ones they could kill in the process. But her most trusted allies turned on her. They staged a coup and carried out the mission.”

  My head was reeling. I couldn’t help but think of the first time I ever saw Dowling, surrounded by light. How much hope I had, how much I wanted to trust her.

  “I know they’ve lied to me. But they’re not … monsters.”

  Beatrix turned to me. I could hear the hatred behind every word she hissed. “Then why are they covering it up?”

  I had no answers for that. The magic veil the lightning had struck away slowly began to return, obscuring the settlement, leaving only the mountainside, and the emptiness of devastation and confusion.

  I shook my head, and made for the SUV. I wanted to go back to Alfea. I wanted to ask Dowling about all this myself. I still didn’t know what to believe, and Beatrix kept pushing me.

  “Why would I make up a story about our teachers being murderers?” Beatrix demanded as we drove. “Where’s the gain in that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of any of this. I’m supposed to just trust you? Trust a memory of some dead fairy …”

  I trailed off. If I doubted Beatrix’s memory of Rosalind, I had to doubt my own. Then I had no answers at all.

  “You shouldn’t trust me until I’ve proven myself trustworthy. That’s what the faculty expects. And I’m nothing like them. What you need are answers.”

  I wanted answers so desperately. Beatrix was saying all the right things, but that was why I didn’t trust her offer. She was promising too much.

  “From a woman who died and left nothing but cryptic messages and half-truths. We need more,” I told her.

  Beatrix began to smile, slowly. “And we’ll get it. Because Rosalind’s alive.”

  It felt like being struck by lightning all over again.

  “Dowling told me she was dead!”

  “Dowling imprisoned her.” Beatrix looked very pleased with herself. “I’m at Alfea to break her out.”

  But before she could tell me anything else, a loud pop interrupted our conversation. The car swerved, startling both of us. Then Beatrix steadied it.

  “Do we have a flat?” I asked.

  There were three quick, soft sounds outside. One by one, I felt the other three tires go.

  “Nope,” said Beatrix.

  She slammed on the brakes. Both of us looked around, wondering what the hell happened. We both jumped as our eyes found Specialist Headmaster Silva.

  He was armed with a bow, standing in the middle of the road. I couldn’t help but think of Beatrix’s story of him raining down destruction on Aster Dell.

  Clearly, Beatrix was thinking the same thing I was. She swore, leaped out of the car, and made a break for it. But Beatrix hardly got more than a few steps before the asphalt road turned to black liquid beneath her, and her legs became tangled in the tar. She was trapped.

  Desperate, I looked to her right and found Professor Harvey, his eyes a vivid green. Terra’s gentle dad was doing this to a student.

  In his hand there was a glass cylinder full of stones. As he drew nearer to Beatrix, the stones inside lit up.

  Dowling walked toward Beatrix, face set as though the brilliantly lit stones had confirmed something for her. Beatrix’s hands were still free, and I could see her frantically trying to call up her magic.

  “Not today,” Dowling snapped.

  Dowling slapped strangely carved metal bracelets on Beatrix’s wrists. Beatrix’s lightning crackled for a second, and then disappeared as the metal edges of the bracelets cut into Beatrix’s skin like teeth.

  Bleeding, struggling, Beatrix called out to Dowling, “What are these things? Why can’t I …? It hurts.”

  I overcame my frozen horror and scrambled out of the truck, horrified by the pain Beatrix was in.

  “Stop it!” I screamed.

  I tried to run to Beatrix, but Silva grabbed me from behind. I struggled, but I couldn’t break free from his unyielding grip.

  Silva, the man Sky loved like a father, panted harshly in my ear, “This doesn’t concern you.”

  Earth

  Terra was standing with Aisha and Musa at the entrance of Alfea with the rest of the students, in an anxious crowd whispering about murder and secrets.

  Then the SUV pulled up, and Terra’s dad and Bloom climbed out. Bloom, pale and shaken, but safe and well. Terra, Aisha, and Musa dashed forward as one.

  Bloom moved sharply away from Terra’s dad and into their arms. Terra ignored her father as she hugged Bloom tight, even though she saw the flash of pain on his face as he moved away. He shouldn’t have lied to her if he wanted a hug.

  Bloom was trembling in Terra’s arms.

  “We were so worried about you,” murmured Aisha.

  Musa confirmed, “Legit freaking out.”

  “What did Beatrix do to you?” Terra demanded.

  In a strange tight voice Bloom replied, “She didn’t do anything. She’s not some monster.”

  That was surprising for everyone, given the facts. Bloom must not know.

  “Bloom,” said Terra. “She killed Callum.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Musa blinked. “Dowling. Silva. Harvey.”

  If the Vessel Stones had lit for Beatrix, it proved she’d killed Callum. Terra expected Bloom to be instantly horrified, but Bloom’s face only went more strained.

  “They have proof?” she asked.

  Aisha’s face grew even more worried. “Bloom, why would they say it if it wasn’t true?”

  “You never know why people really do things,” Bloom said distantly.

  That made everyone feel lousy, Terra included. All this time, worried sick about Bloom, and she was acting as though
Beatrix was her only friend, cruelly ripped away from her.

  “Maybe we should just get some rest,” Aisha suggested.

  Yes! Aisha was so right. Bloom must be in shock. She needed a blanket. Terra would find a blanket.

  Only Bloom’s gaze had left them, and was locked on Sky as he approached.

  “You guys go,” she murmured, and she moved toward Sky, as though they were two magnets snapping together.

  Terra cut her eyes politely away from whatever was going on there. She hoped Stella was nowhere nearby to see this. Bloom had enough going on without getting blinded tonight.

  Whispers rose from the crowd about murder, and Callum, and Beatrix, and a spy in their midst.

  Riven was standing off to the side in the dark, alone and looking utterly gutted. As Beatrix was led away, Terra saw Dane walk up to him.

  “What the hell happened?” Dane demanded in a voice gone thin with anguish.

  Dane must have really liked Beatrix, Terra thought with a distant pang. But she was already looking away from Dane, back toward Riven.

  Riven’s response to Dane’s plea was to push Dane away in an explosive fit of anger. She didn’t know what he was angry at, but she suspected it was at himself as much as at Beatrix. At everything.

  Dane stumbled back, staring at Riven in shock, but Terra thought she understood.

  She knew what it was like to be betrayed. By Dane, and by her dad. Terra could almost feel sorry. Even for Riven.

  Fire

  I moved toward Sky, whose handsome face was twisted in distress.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as I was near. “I left you alone with her. I shouldn’t have. She—”

  I knew his concern was genuine, but I couldn’t bear another round of hearing Beatrix was a monster.

  “She didn’t kidnap me, Sky. I’m okay. I promise.”

  I avoided his eyes, but he ducked his head and made me meet his gaze. Once I did, I felt the first relief I’d experienced since seeing Aster Dell.

  “Whatever happened out there … you can tell me,” he said gently.

  There was a moment of silence and connection between us. I wanted to open up to him. Maybe I could.

  Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Dowling and Silva, leading Beatrix away. I went stiff, and he saw it.

  “When you’re ready,” he assured me. “I’m just happy you’re back.”

  Sky pulled me into a hug, seemingly careless of who saw us. I could feel his relief, like his strong arms, engulfing me. I felt the same. I wanted to cling to him and whisper everything I’d learned in his ear.

  Then Silva’s voice commanded, “Sky.”

  And Sky let me go. He headed off toward Silva, the man who commanded his loyalty, and Beatrix, the prisoner who might have the answers I sought. The answers that would lead me home.

  Mind

  As Musa walked back to the Winx suite with Terra and Aisha, Terra’s mood was darkening with every step until Musa felt as though they were under a black cloud indoors. It took Musa about twenty paces to snap.

  “Terra,” Musa asked desperately, “can you please just let it out? You’re killing me right now.”

  Terra took a deep breath. “My dad lied to me today. Legit lied, and when I called him on it, he tried to act like it was for my own good. They all did.”

  Aisha, looking troubled, said, “They had good intentions.”

  Terra’s voice was steely. “They can justify it all they want, but you don’t lie to people you care about. Not if they matter.”

  Musa’s magic flared with guilt as Terra unintentionally called her out. And in the moment, it felt like there was only one thing to do.

  Musa gulped. “I have to tell you something.”

  Aisha and Terra halted. Musa didn’t dare glance up and see Terra’s face. She only let the words spill out.

  “A while ago I met this guy and I like him, like, a lot, but I didn’t know how you’d react if I told you, so I didn’t tell you, and now it’s been weeks and … I’m dating your brother.”

  From Aisha, there was only surprise that Musa had fessed up. Musa finally looked at Terra, dreading the onslaught of feelings she was about to experience.

  But then Terra laughed out loud. At length.

  “Thank you for telling me the truth,” Terra said eventually, voice weak from giggling. “I really needed that. Even if you do have horrible taste. Sam is …”

  Musa was starting to feel insulted on her man’s behalf.

  “Objectively attractive!”

  Terra’s eyes danced. “The spitting image of my dad at his age. And I think his hair went at eighteen? Maybe nineteen? Bald teenagers. Very cool. Have fun with that.”

  All three of them laughed, and for a moment, all their stress was released. Even though, deep down, Musa thought they all sensed that today was only the beginning of something bigger than they could imagine.

  Then Musa’s eye caught movement, headed away from their suite. She tapped the other girls on their arms as they all turned to look at the guards carrying fancy suitcases.

  They ran up to the Winx suite, but Stella’s stuff was already gone.

  Light

  Stella sat quietly in the Rolls-Royce, waiting to leave.

  “This school has taken a turn since I attended,” her mother observed. “Back home, I can teach you everything you need to know.”

  It was more threat than promise. Stella suppressed a shudder. Her whole body yearned back toward the warm familiarity of the Winx suite and the girls she’d been annoyed to be stuck with. She didn’t let herself move a muscle.

  In a low resentful voice, Stella muttered, “You could’ve let me say goodbye to my friends.”

  Her mother sounded calm and amused. The queen, always in control.

  “They’re not your friends, Stella. If they were, they’d be here.”

  Fire

  I found Dowling at her desk, signing forms. Without looking up, she said, “Don’t lurk.”

  I hesitated, and then stepped through the doorway of the office. Dowling stopped her work and looked up.

  “May I help you?” she asked politely, as though it was just another ordinary day.

  A military team, Beatrix had called Silva and Dowling and Professor Harvey. A strike force that had destroyed Aster Dell. That was what they’d looked like when they’d brought her down.

  I asked a question of my own. “What were those … bracelets?”

  “Runic limiters. They prevent a fairy from using her magic.”

  “They’re barbaric,” I said flatly. “They tore her skin open.”

  Dowling was, obviously, not surprised by this information. Her stoicism was chilling. She didn’t betray the slightest sense of guilt. She wasn’t backing down, but I wouldn’t, either.

  “You’re certain you’re uninjured?” Dowling inquired.

  “I’m fine. She didn’t hurt me.”

  “Still, you were with Beatrix for quite a while. What did you two talk about all that time?”

  I thought about it a long, hard moment, and then I shrugged.

  “Boys. Clothes. Who could drive faster. It was a joyride, Ms. Dowling. That’s all.”

  Dowling studied me. I couldn’t tell if she bought it or not.

  At last, she said, “Well, perhaps next time you’ll choose your company more wisely.”

  I held Dowling’s gaze and told her, “You can count on it.”

  Specialist

  Sky watched Silva close the cell door on a girl in obvious pain. Who was also a murderer, and might have intended harm to Bloom. He wished he knew what to do. He feared he’d already done wrong.

  As he and Silva walked away from Beatrix’s jail and down a hallway toward the castle courtyard, Sky said, “After the Specialist party, you told me, ‘Stick close to Bloom. We’d like to know more about her.’ That’s not the same as, ‘Bloom may be in danger from a killer.’ ”

  Silva was tight-lipped. Sky tried not to let himself be overcome by fr
ustration, but Silva knew him too well.

  “What you’re doing is important, Sky. You have to trust me.”

  “I do,” said Sky. “You know I do.”

  He trusted Silva with his life. That was different from trusting Silva with Bloom’s life.

  Sky lifted his chin. “But I need to know the whole truth.”

  “One of the lessons you’re at this school to learn is that sometimes a soldier just has to take orders.”

  Silva’s tone lost even the barest hint of softness as he switched to a voice of command.

  “So I will reiterate them to you. You are to gain Bloom’s trust. Learn everything you can, including what happened on that road trip. And then you are to tell me. That is where your loyalty lies, Sky. To me. To Alfea. And no one else.”

  Through all the lying days of my youth

  I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;

  Now may I wither into the truth.

  —W. B. Yeats

  Fire

  The towers of the East Wing were like twin blades waiting for me in the dark. There were two Specialists guarding Beatrix’s prison, the faces of teenage boys I knew turned suddenly grim, soldiers who would cut down anyone who dared to enter. Soldiers who seemed ever so slightly panicked by the situation they found themselves in. I knew how that felt.

  I watched from the shadows. Dowling and Silva were in there, interrogating Beatrix. The other students whispered that they tortured her every night. That our headmistress was obsessed by the wish for revenge.

  Dowling and Silva left the East Wing as I kept watch. Dowling’s face was cool. She didn’t look like a woman obsessed by revenge. But she didn’t look like a woman satisfied by the answers she’d received, either.

  I bet Beatrix was being stubborn.

  Beatrix had offered me answers. And I wanted them badly.

  I jotted notes in my phone: 12:15. Dowling and Silva. Then, surveillance completed for the night, I put my phone away and turned to head off when a silhouette loomed out of the darkness and came at me.