On Fallen Wings

by Jamie McHenry

  I gathered my family in the dining room and tried my best to explain what was about to happen. Mother sobbed—along with Leila and me, Ethan sat stoic in the corner, and Father banged his fist against the table, while I detailed my tragic story of the past week. We didn’t eat an evening meal; Mother felt ill, and neither Leila nor I wanted to make the effort to cook. The only one who complained was Ethan, and Father ordered him upstairs, leaving the dining room eerily silent. The four of us stared out the window and watched the shadows grow.

  As dusk began its call, I chose a warm fur blanket from the empty room and wandered to the front door. Leila followed me outside; I had asked her to come with me, for support. I wrapped the blanket tight around us to fight a freezing wind. We walked to Stone Meadow in silence.

  When we arrived, a fire was already burning near the Season Stone. The other Fae stood huddled in a circle, and when I left Leila to join them, Abigail ran toward us and motioned for me to stand back.

  “I’m here to tell my story,” I said, meekly. “May I address the Fae?”

  Abigail shook her head. “We will call for you once we have made a decision. Until then, you should wait here.”

  “This doesn’t look promising,” said Leila, shivering under the blanket.

  I agreed, but didn’t speak. As Leila dropped to the ground to sit, I remained standing, and watched the dancing flames of the fire move beyond the Fae. I looked down at my gown with a lump in my throat. Would this be my last memory as a faerie? The cold pierced me. I dropped to the grass and snuggled close to my sister.

  “How long will the council last?” Leila asked through chattering teeth.

  I lifted my head. “I don’t know.” My breath curled into the air to be whisked away by the icy wind. I drew the blanket closer. “I’ve never been to a council like this.”

  Leila leaned her head on my shoulder and sniffled. “I don’t want them to remove you. Don’t they realize how much you’ve been through?”

  “This isn’t about what happened to Sean,” I told her, trying to be brave. “It’s about me, and about what I’ve done.” I reached around my sister. “It will be all right. I accept my fate.” I leaned my head to touch Leila’s hair. “Whatever happens, I’ll need your support and your strength.”

  Leila wiped her eyes with one sleeve of her dress. “I don’t know if I can be strong.”

  The Fae separated. I rose to my feet. Leila followed, lifting the blanket over her hair. Madeline left the stones and came to us, a solemn expression on her face.

  When she reached me, she squeezed me in a large hug. “We have decided,” she whispered. “Please join us at the circle.”

  Leila grabbed my hands as I turned to follow Madeline toward the group of waiting women.

  “It will be fine,” I said, releasing her. “My fate is my fortune.”

  The other Fae wiped tears as I walked toward them, signaling a painful decision and the answer I feared. I remained silent while fighting the urge to cry. Watching my friends suffer hurt more than I could have imagined. Nausea settled heavy in my stomach. I desperately wanted to run somewhere far, far away, but there was no place to hide from the truth. I rubbed the diamond on my necklace. It felt cold and sharp between my fingers. When I reached them, twenty-six faeries formed a circle around me.

  “We’ve reached a decision.” Raisa spoke so soft that I could barely hear her over the snapping and popping of the burning wood. “You are immediately removed from the Fae.”

  Blood sank from my face to my toes, and left me bitter during its quick descent. My life was over. Within a few days, I had lost everything that mattered. I wobbled in place, but somehow managed to remain standing. None of the faeries moved. Instead, they surrounded me with pale faces and dark eyes that reflected the firelight. My friends looked distant now, and angry. I doubted they would ever speak to me again.

  “What happens next?” I asked. My hands trembled like a wavering leaf.

  Raisa’s voice was suddenly firm and solid. “We will select someone to replace you. And you will become her Giver.”

  “I didn’t get to tell you all what happened,” I argued. “Or why.”

  “Your actions, not the reasons, were the purpose of this council, Rhiannon,” said Abigail, stepping forward. Her voice was cold and hollow.

  I shuddered as she spoke. My friend—my dear friend—was chastising me.

  Raisa repeated her words. “We will select a new faerie and you will be her Giver. You are now dead to us.”

  My knees buckled and I sank to the ground. After losing Sean, I hadn’t thought that anything could hurt me again, but this cut so deep I didn’t think it would ever heal. As I sat numbly, Madeline knelt next to me and offered me her warmth.

  “It will be okay,” she said, brushing strands of hair away from my face. “Please be strong.”

  I shook my head. Even the strength of Sean’s courage had failed me. I was empty. I had nothing left. I lifted my golden shawl over my head and handed it to Madeline.

  The faeries stepped aside as I walked between them, offering only cold faces and silence. I had come to Stone Meadow to find sympathy and understanding. I was leaving with rejection from the sisterhood I loved. When I joined Leila in the darkness, she was already crying. She didn’t ask me what happened. Instead, she wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and escorted me home.

  Giver

  Life outside of the Fae felt ordinary and lonely. Moon Season had ended, and the busy sounds of the forest announced that spring had arrived. Instead of anticipating Sun Season and its elaborate celebration, I wandered around the house and horse meadow, completed my chores as required, and ignored the passing of each day. There was nothing to look forward to and nothing left to rue. I was different, though wiser from the thaw.

  Father kept us informed with details from the Elder Councils. Darian refused to reveal where he had taken the stolen items, including the Fae Scrolls. Although many of the Elders were still convinced that he hadn’t acted alone, it didn’t matter anymore—at least to me. The villain had been captured and the trouble in Aisling had ceased. I stopped listening to the updates, and often left the room until the conversation changed. I was trying to forget the past; it hadn’t been kind to me.

  One morning, a hum of excitement filled the house as I ventured back inside for a midday meal. Even the windows seemed to glow and let in more sunlight. Mother was singing and Leila danced around the dining room, twirling a towel in circles while wiping the table.

  “I’ve been invited,” she sang, grabbing my hands and yanking my arms into the air.

  I resisted and let her break away. “What’s happened?” I asked, curious about the lighter mood. “Where are you invited?”

  Mother turned to answer, but didn’t speak. Instead, she smiled and watched Leila finish her dance.

  “To the faerie temple,” Leila answered with a grin. She pulled a parchment from the pocket of her dress. “See.”

  I stared at the paper in her outstretched hand as if the markings were foreign. Plainly, in faerie symbols, was an invitation addressed to Leila Phillips—an invitation for an interview at the temple. I held my face in my hands and tried to grasp the moment. The Fae were considering my younger sister for my position.

  “Good fortune,” I said to her politely, while trying to hide my true feelings—although I wasn’t certain what those feelings were. I offered nothing else. What could I say?

  “Thank you.” Leila spoke with an air of satisfaction that seemed to mock me. She started spinning again. “Mother, may I go and tell Father? He’ll be so excited.”

  “Go ahead, dear,” said Mother, smiling.

  Leila pranced past me again and disappeared out the back door.

  “Rhiannon, don’t!” Mother turned to me. Her face was stern.

  Wind rattled the doors.

  I looked back at her, surprised at her sudden change. “What?”

  Mother had never spoken this way. The air in the room escaped a
nd stole my breath. Somewhere, a cloud darkened the day and left the house in shadow. I heard Mother exhale.

  She tossed a rag onto the counter and stomped toward me, aiming with her eyes. “Your fall from the Fae is a tragedy, but don’t ruin your sister’s excitement with spite for the life you gave away.”

  I stumbled backward toward the dining room.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. A chair halted my retreat.

  “Yes, you do.” She pointed a finger at my chest. “You resent her for taking your place. Don’t!”

  Mother could have thrown a sack of apples at me and it would have had less impact. Her words hit me and forced me into the chair. She was right. She knew how I felt, even though I couldn’t recognize it. It wasn’t Leila’s fault she was chosen.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, as tears flooded my eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

  “You’re ruining her day.” Mother refused to relent. “I won’t allow that to happen.”

  I covered my face as emotion reached me.

  “Sean is gone,” she said, “and it isn’t her fault.”

  “I know,” I sobbed. “I never said that.”

  “You’ve been blaming the village for what happened.” Mother stood over me, hovering like a wasp. “No one here could have saved him. Do you understand?”

  I cowered lower; her words had punctured me. “Mother, please.”

  She continued. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rhiannon. His death was not a punishment. In fact—”

  She stopped yelling and sat on the bench beside the table.

  “Mother?”

  Her eyes were moist. “I think I would have done the same.”

  I couldn’t hold back my tears. “No, Mother, don’t say that. I made a mistake—a horrible mistake. I should have never done those things.”

  Mother shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Rhiannon, I’m proud of you,” she said, sniffling between words.

  My tears dripped on to the front of my work dress. The shadow moved and sunlight entered the room again.

  “You have a gift,” she told me. “In the darkest of nights, you were brave enough to share that gift with us. Do you know what it is?”

  I shook my head.

  “Love.” She stood, pulled me to her, and embraced me in a hug. “There isn’t a day that passes, since you told us what happened, that I don’t grab your father and hold him close. I don’t want to miss a moment with him or let a season pass without him knowing that I care for him more than anything.”

  “You’ve always loved Father,” I said, squeezing her tight. “He knows that.”

  Mother sniffled. “Our dreams are precious,” she said. “You risked everything in your life—everything, for the chance to share yours with someone you loved.” She pulled back and stared at me, her eyes moist and honest. “I wish I was that strong. I’m proud that you chose to be.”

  I took a shuddering breath. “I’m not a faerie anymore,” I said. “I broke the rules.”

  “You don’t need to be a faerie to care for others, or to help them understand what love is,” she said. “That’s the gift you’ve given me.”

  I couldn’t speak. In the silence, I remembered the promise I had made to Leila at Stone Meadow. It seemed so long ago. Mother had helped me to keep that promise. I released her hand as Father burst into the house.

  “Can you believe it?” he yelled, slamming the door behind him. “Another faerie in the family.”

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it?” I said, wiping my face with my dress and smiling.

  Ethan opened the door, grumbling, and Leila rushed in behind him. She dashed past, heading for the hall.

  “Leila, where are you going?” asked Mother, reaching out to catch her. She missed.

  “I’m going to bathe,” Leila answered, already at the stairs. Her voice echoed down to us. “I know just the dress I will wear.”

  Mother turned to me. “Rhiannon, there will be happiness again for you. It always comes around, just like each season.” Her words melted a little of the winter from my heart.

  ~ O ~

  Later that evening, after the sun let the shadows rule, I sat with my family at Stone Meadow. I wasn’t there to dance—I was there to die. I had lost my rights as a faerie; the Spring Ceremony would destroy the last remnants of that existence and create a pure offering to the newest faerie. There would be life afterward, I would still have my flesh, but breathing would be void of everything I had known for seven years. Thanks to Mother, I had accepted that fate.

  We waited in the grass, close to the stones without entering the circle. Families of the Prospects always witnessed the ceremony with a closer view than the rest of the village—an intimate observation of either fortune or denial. The night was a rarity. Givers never saw their replacement. The Givers were always dead.

  Father shifted his legs and tried to get more room. “They’re restless, tonight.” The noisy chatter around meadow swallowed his voice.

  I wanted to turn, to clarify the sounds, but I didn’t dare reveal my face. I knew what questions were spreading behind me. Rumors traveled quickly in our village and I felt certain the whispers weren’t kind. I faced forward and imagined better nights at this hallowed ground.

  In front of us, seven young women, Prospects, sat in a straight row; all wore newly sewn white gowns; all hoped for the glorious beginning that only one of them would know. A few sat perfectly still, facing the stones. Some waved to their families. Leila turned once and smiled at us. Nia was with them and didn’t move.

  Spring Ceremonies happened so quickly that villagers never knew who the Prospects were. Still, Leila managed to get a message to Michael. No word had come from my best friend. I glanced back to ask Mother a question and caught the gaze of Tara Dunn, who stopped talking to another woman and appeared intent on hearing my words.

  Mother didn’t answer me. She wiped one eye with her sleeve and waved at my sister. They exchanged eager smiles. Overhead, the sky was dark and stars filled the space where the moon had once marked the season.

  Long slow fiddles stretched the moment and silenced the whispers. The ceremony was close. Behind me, someone spoke louder than needed, calling my name and requesting my leave. Their voice mocked the quiet peace and heralded a few muffled laughs. I didn’t move and allowed my tears their wanting. Voices are cruelest in the darkness. Father put a warm arm around my shoulders and the silence returned.

  Near the Season Stone, a fire roared to life. The Fae took places between the pillars, filling every gap—twenty-six places—and then faced the flames and spread their arms. Raisa Bannon stepped toward the fire from directly in front of us. She carried a bundle of gold lace in her arms. My golden shawl.

  I pulled Father’s arm closer and squeezed.

  Without tears or hesitation, Raisa tossed the gold lace onto the fire. My shawl smothered the flames, filling the meadow with darkness. The fire, that only moments ago blared with promise, smoldered into a mass of black and red coals. It pulsated and hummed, buffeting us with repeated waves of invisible heat until sputtering to nothing. Silence and darkness allowed the stars to brighten. I lifted my face and accepted that my fate must be a part of them.

  The fire exploded. I expected heat, but only gasps and cheers filled the space around the stone circle. A colorful plume of sparks soared into the air, higher than the stones, and showered over the circle, hanging as if held to the sky by invisible wings, refusing to touch the grass. The faeries in the circle took slow steps, humming as they swayed in a circle within the stones. I stopped watching them; I had been a part of that ceremony once before—when Abigail was chosen. They wouldn’t stop until the newest faerie stepped forward.

  I turned my attention to the Prospects. They glanced at each other, rightfully nervous. Raisa must have given them the instructions for the choosing. No one would tell them when to approach the circle; they would decide the moment to discover their fate. That moment, seven years prior, had reveale
d all the anxiety and pain I had ever known at the time. Watching the other Prospects step forward was anxiety and agony wrapped within hope. I grinned at the memory. When I had stepped forward, I had found a neatly folded golden shawl at the opening of the Season Stone. A small parchment, inscribed with my name, indicated my ownership.

  One Prospect stood and many in the crowd released whispers and gasps. She straightened her gown, lifted her chin, and walked toward the center of the circle. None of the Fae looked at her or acknowledged her passing; they continued their hum and kept moving. The air thickened with the breath of the entire village as she reached the Season Stone. Her wail echoed into the sky and she ran from the circle, covered in the black shawl of denial.

  I understood her misery. As the girl’s mother stepped through the crowd to chase after her, the Fae kept their pace.

  A second Prospect walked into the circle—Lindsay, Leila’s friend. She walked upright and calm when leaving the Solstice Stone, despite the black she wore. The third and fourth Prospects requested their fates and left the boundary of the stones, wiping their tears and sobbing. Every time a Prospect was denied, Mother shifted noisily in the grass. Her breathing grew louder and faster. The quiet outside the circle had also changed to a restless mixture of murmurs and queries.

  Leila stood. Mother gasped. My sister straightened her hair with her fingers and sat down again. Father’s grip tightened, smothering me. Why didn’t she go? The choice had been made—her fate decided. Waiting didn’t change anything. As I stared at her, trying to share my desire to end the suspense, the fifth Prospect walked into the circle. I didn’t watch her. If she wasn’t chosen, that left Leila and Nia to claim my position in the Fae. Staring at both of them, my best friend and my sister, I scraped my dress with my fingers.