by J. Kearston
We walk a little while in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. There’s a twenty dollar bill left from the money Cambria pilfered from the guard, but neither of us can bring ourselves to spend it. That crumpled bill carries an ominous weight, too parallel to what happened to Maddox. His death set everything into motion, but also feels like it serves as a warning.
We stop into a small bookstore so that we can use a real bathroom before heading back out into the wilderness. It’s a single room, one person set up, so I mill around the stacks while waiting for Cambria. Brushing my finger over the dusty spines, my mind continues to wander, dredging up every magical tale I’ve ever read from the recesses of my memory. Life may change the finer details, but after a millennia of stories being told, they all tend to follow common themes, or lessons screaming to be learned that people ignorantly refuse to. A vicious, repetitive cycle, so the answer to all of our problems has to be somewhere, lost in a sea of entertainment and knowledge so vast that you can’t find the tiny drop you’re looking for.
“Anything in particular you’re searching for?” The woman looks like the embodiment of sunshine, from her sun-kissed skin to her golden hair braided down her back. Bright orange eyes smile with genuine friendliness, nothing like the cruel calculation I tend to see in so many fae.
“A map would be a blessing.”
She nods, weaving between the narrow shelves and stacks of books strewn throughout the place and I follow her carefully, hand on my bag to keep it from swinging. She opens a few drawers behind her desk before triumphantly grinning, unveiling a folded map, yellowed on the edges from age. “Knew I still had one around here somewhere.”
“You don’t get many travelers passing through, then?”
She lowers herself into a chair, swiveling it from side to side. “Certainly. But not many that admit they need help. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met that would rather stumble around in the woods for weeks than acknowledge that they were lost.” She scoffs. “All it takes is one bad deal in someone’s lifetime and they never risk asking for help again.”
Reluctantly, I pull the crumpled bill from my pocket, offering it her way and hoping it doesn’t put a larger black cloud over my head than I already have. I’m not typically superstitious, but recent events are definitely making me reconsider my stance.
“On the house.” She passes it over the same time Cambria returns, offering her that same, blinding smile. In such a dusty, shadowy shop, she’s a ray of light, breathing life into a place that appears forgotten, yet refusing to fade away. “You two look like you could put it to use far better than I’ll ever get the chance.” Her gaze turns wistful. “On the condition that if you ever pass through Altheon again, you’ll tell me about one of your adventures. I’ve always wanted that for myself, and I’m a little jealous.”
Cambria cants her head, assessing the girl. “So why don’t you? Pack a bag and just go.”
The girl sighs, gazing up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t do that to my family. They rely on the money I manage to bring in, and that isn’t much to begin with. There’s nothing to save, no safety net for them to draw on while I’m gone or for what I’d need to afford a journey. And how could I leave them behind while I just go gallivanting around without rhyme or reason?” She shuts her eyes, sighing and facing us before she reopens them, that light inside of her dimming a bit. “It’d be selfish. Stories are enough though; I get to go on a new adventure every day while I work. It’d just be nice to add something new to the pot.” She taps her head, outstretching her hand once more to insist I take the map. “So keep me in mind if you two ever pass through again.”
Before I can second guess myself, I grab the book she has on her desk, opening to the bookmarked page and slipping the twenty inside before setting it back down. “To get you started. Might take a few years, but even a dollar here and there adds up if you don’t let your guilt force you to tap into it.”
Cambria smiles, taking the map from the girl. “Invest in yourself; you’re worth it. Families are great and all-“ she almost manages to make that sound convincing- “but if they don’t support you the way you do them, it might be time to take a hard look at your situation.”
I tip my head gratefully, heading to take a piss before we head out. By the time I return, Cambria and the girl are deep in conversation. I take a minute to just enjoy seeing the way she lights up, knowing how starved for affection she is after a lifetime of neglect, desiring a real friend for her entire existence and only finding them amongst the humans she had to lie to in order to preserve her secrets. Honestly, I’m half tempted to invite the girl to come with us for Cambria’s sake, but all of the threats breathing down our necks and secrets make it impossible.
The reality no one seems to mention. It isn’t fighting the evil villain, or the exhausting adventure that wears a person down the most. It’s the compounded sacrifices of all the little things we took for granted, the fractured pieces of ourselves that we’re forced to leave behind to become the people we need to be. We might succeed; slay the dragon, save the kingdom, the villagers cheer... But when someone’s forced to become a hero, people only care that the threat is defeated, and then you become irrelevant.
The only one left to deal with the fallout of who you were forced to become is you, who can’t even recognize yourself in a mirror anymore. And no one cares.
“We should get going, love.”
Cambria’s shoulders sag as she nods, waving goodbye to the girl and thanking her again for the map. I wrap my arm around her waist, heading out of the small bookstore and out onto the street. She opens the map and I steer her to the side to ensure she doesn’t bump into anyone, but my eyes keep flitting back to the map, stunned at how busy it is.
All of this time, I imagined the light court and shadow court as two halves splitting the realm. But it’s just...so much more. Our problems seem so world changing, but if this map is accurate, we’re a tiny blip in the grand scheme of things. Kingdom after kingdom, oceans and continents. The two courts may as well be a backwater town with two neighbors feuding over watermelons.
“Altheon, right?” she asks and I nod as her finger races over the map before finally settling on our tiny dot. “So we need to head...” She looks up, twisting the map to ensure she’s looking at it in comparison to the world around us. “This way, I think.”
Checking behind her, her guess is as good as mine. Without a compass, we have to go by topography. But the river we coasted on is clearly marked, so if we base that against the city, we should just need to turn left and keep walking for a very, very long time. We don’t have a name for Achlys’ kingdom, but as long as we head in the direction of the shadow court, we can sort it out when we get there.
After we leave the city, Cambria drops the glamour. Her hair is still dyed like the setting sun, but at least all of the injuries and blood are gone. And as I see the mark reappear on my hand, I feel better. It’s such an integral part of me now that not being able to see it makes me squirm, convincing myself that all of this has been some sort of fevered delusion and I’ve gone crazy.
“So; Wasteland. That sounds fun,” she flippantly states and I snort.
“If it’s full of depression and death, it’s a sure sign we’re meant to be there. Our lives are apparently just a video game at this point. Complete your side quests, level up, upgrade gear and abilities, then fight through story mode until you get to the boss level. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out Luce and Atlas teamed up with a mage and are waiting for us strapped down with potions so we can at least redo if we fail the first time.”
Azazel stays curled up around my neck like a scarf, hunkering down like he’s in a food coma. If he’s been starved, living off of whatever scraps Elorie threw his way after abducting Cambria twenty-four years ago, then this recent influx of energy and expelling it just as quickly likely wiped him out.
Stroking his head, I side eye Cambria. “Does it make you feel better or worse to know that you have
n’t actually been stealing abilities?”
She fiddles with the clasp on her onyx cloak, so at odds with her vibrant coloring. “Better, maybe? I feel less like a greedy bitch after somebody’s power and more like a succubus. Sex demon sounds way cooler than gold digger.”
We crest another hill and at the top, we pause to catch our breath. “I have a theory,” I pant, winded and pulling a canteen from my bag that I force myself to ration. She gestures for me to have at it, since we really have nothing else to do for the next few days besides toss around ideas to pass the time.
“So if fae are immortal short of maiming, you guys don’t starve to death. You can feed off of adoration, which apparently is some sort of subset of the raw energy you channel from Faerie. There has to be layer upon layer of intricacies that stem from that. Healing, offensive powers, etcetera. So if you remove people’s abilities along with their life force, the two are tied together.”
“Okay?” She sits down beside me, stretching out her legs.
My mouth suddenly feels dry and I debate the damage I might unwittingly do with my point, wondering if I should drop it now that I’m thinking about it in depth beyond musing aloud. Ultimately though, the more knowledge we have to work with, the better, and I’m not about to shield her from something that might eventually help her just because it might be hard to hear.
“Graham had to sacrifice his and Lucien’s abilities so that they could live on Earth without dying.” I leave the statement open ended, seeing if she’s going to make the same leap that I did.
Her hands cover her mouth as she bends forward, smoothing them over her face and pushing her hair back as she sits up. “My parents. They’d be the only people that could have stripped their abilities while still leaving them alive, severing whatever connection there is between the fae and Faerie so they wouldn’t have to come back.” She flops back in the grass, staring up at the clear sky. “Lucien spent more time with my parents than I probably did. I don’t even know how old I was before Elorie grabbed me. Hours? Days?”
While she puts that in a place she can cope with, sorting through her thoughts and filing them away so they don’t cripple her, I scan the area. There isn’t anyone around for miles; the city a mere speck in the distance and the two of us far from the beaten path that marks the main road to the next town. Still, I keep my guard up so hers can be down, a give and take as we both do our best to survive blow after blow that threatens to destroy the foundations we’ve built ourselves upon.
Azazel stirs enough to glance at Cambria, like he can feel the change in her, taste the subdued air clinging to her like a tangible shift in her energy. If so, it would make sense why she can manipulate emotions, if they’re as tied to that driving force as everything else seems to be. Ultimately, he passes back out though, coiled around my neck to stay warm.
We end up walking straight through the night, no supplies to make camp and enough thoughts weighing on our minds to keep us from sleeping anyway. My legs are on fire as we hike the steep incline, the emerald grass thinning out until it fades to yellow before disappearing completely. Our footsteps sink into the earth, the grey stones spongy. By the time we reach the peak, what we thought was snow reveals itself to be ash. Endless ash, in greys and whites, seeming as endless as a desert.
“I never realized how vast the world truly was.” Cambria’s voice is subdued, none of the thrill she had when we climbed to the top of the waterfall to be seen this time. “I’ve stood on top of mountains, daydreaming about what lay beyond the horizon. But now that I’m actually here, in what may as well be the space between worlds, it feels like the first true bit of Faerie I’ve actually seen. Ash and decay, as far as the eye can see, and not the slightest hint of glamour to conceal it.”
She bends down and scoops a handful of dirt, letting it rain down between her fingers in a steady, grey stream. “Maybe that’s all She is; a sphere of ash, and we’re all just too busy making pretty sandcastles and pretending otherwise.”
Chapter 7
Atlas
Pounding on the window has me jumping out of my skin, palming the knife from the end table and rolling out of bed. I’m halfway across the room before Lucien’s feet hit the floor, since he was passed out on the opposite side of the bed, drained from training all day.
Unlatching the second story window and shoving it open, I narrow my eyes on the man hovering outside, his wings flitting a mile a minute to keep him in place. I brace myself for Achlys’ decision, her dismissal, and try to school my features into indifference. But after nearly a week of silence, I’m not expecting anything; never was, to be honest.
Luce stands beside me, clenching his fist before slipping his hands into his pockets, struggling so damn hard to maintain the apathy he’s spent a lifetime clinging to. These past few days of forcing him to eat so he can heal quicker and helping him adapt to the onslaught have been more exhausting than actually exercising.
“They’re back.” Two words and they hit like a punch to the stomach and steal the breath from my lungs.
Luce finds his voice first. “Where?”
The man gestures in the same direction that we entered the village from and the two of us are tearing down the stairs in an instant, not bothering to waste time putting our shoes on. The messenger flies off ahead, leaving only the sound of our feet pounding the dirt to keep us company.
True night, as they call it, settles around us, leaving the streets relatively abandoned as people sleep, save a few insomniacs or workers. But the buzz spreads quickly and people start to stir, peering out of their homes. I ignore all of them, the muscles in my thigh twinging. Most of our injuries are in good shape at this point, and I think we have our connection to Cambria and Luce to thank for that, our healing more accelerated than normal now that we’re on Faerie. Save for some bruising, angry scars, and lingering pain where we took the worst damage, most of the exhaustion is mental.
Dorian and Cambria are surrounded by people, the conquering heroes returned at last. My steps come slower until I stop completely. Lucien forges a path straight through the fae, and they flinch back as if they can feel power rolling off of him, like a barely caged beast. They don’t even have to look; they step to the side, backs still to us, like they know he’s there and will gladly go through them if they stand in the way.
Cambria and Dorian are coated in ashen dust and debris, their traveling cloaks nearly white at first glance, before a second look shows the thinner patches of dirt revealing the dark colors beneath. Orange stains their hair, and all they need are a couple pairs of glasses and fake moustaches for the world’s worst disguises. How anyone could glance at her and not just know that she’s more, that she’s everything, is beyond me.
Lucien pulls her into a crushing embrace as she yips, but sighs in relief. He claps a hand to Dorian’s shoulder, scanning him from head to toe, and some of the rigidness in his shoulders ebbs. He’s been wound tight enough lately that I thought he might actually snap, so many foreign emotions assaulting him relentlessly and not knowing how to manage them. But like everything else, Cambria’s very presence is the key, a balm to weather the worst storm.
They could all get along without me just fine.
As she pulls away from Luce, her eyes instantly find mine despite the crowd, like they did that day in the club. Her brow furrows, giving me a silent question that I just...don’t know how to answer. They’re safe. Home. And yet everything feels wrong.
But I force a smile on my face for her sake, because I am relieved they’re here. I’m just also sad for me, but know I need to get past my pity party.
One foot in front of the other, I push myself closer, but when I throw an arm around her back to press her against me in a quick hug, it lasts longer than I originally intended. Closing my eyes, I rest my cheek on top of her head, shutting the rest of the world out for just a moment. A small little blip of time that I can pretend everything’s okay.
“You’re alright?”
“Hungry, but
yeah.” Her voice takes on a teasing lilt. “You’d think that Dorian hasn’t eaten in months with the way he’s been complaining.”
His retort is instantaneous. “Not all of us can live off of wine and a single piece of gum for a week.”
I can feel her smile against my collar. “Not my fault I started my endurance training while you were lazing around.”
Kissing the top of her head, I pull away, and the smile fades from her face. “Why don’t you guys get some food and cleaned up and then we’ll get all caught up?”
She hesitates, but nods. “Sure, sounds like a plan.” I watch as she bites back a million questions, but I just... I just can’t. Not right now, when my head’s a mess.
“I’ll meet you at the house in a bit, okay?”
She agrees, worry clear on her face, and I hate myself for putting it there, for not acting more normal when I should be thrilled right now. But the longer I stand here, surrounded by dozens of people chattering, buzzing with excitement, the more overwhelming it all is.
With another kiss and a respectful nod at Dorian, I start walking back to the house. The minutes pass, and I pass more people on the street, emerging from their homes to go investigate all of the excitement. When the house finally comes to view I pause for a second, just staring. The stone, the luminescent ivy coating it; it’s beautiful. For the briefest moment, a flash of disdain rears its ugly head like a punch to the gut, and I can’t look at it anymore.
I keep walking, only pausing when I reach the edge of the town. On a whim, I change course, heading just past the buildings. There’s an expanse of land on this side of the town before the invisible barrier ends, a swath of nature pulled into their hidden dome so they don’t go nuts in hiding.
Hiking up the sharp incline, I only slow when sweat starts to build on my skin, the heat increasing. Weaving between trees, they thin out as soil gives way to stone, a small oasis. There are several hot springs, set up in tiers similar to the waterfall I jumped from a lifetime ago. There’s no one else here, and I waste no time shucking my clothes, easing into the steaming water.
