We traverse the void that is the Fade along the pathway made for us by Rhave. Within it, I see the shadows of beasts and creatures just beyond my scope of comprehension. They pass alongside us. There one moment and gone the next. They leap across our path as wisps of smoke, gaining form once they’re back in the safe embrace of the magic that they were born into.
Briefly, a shadowy wolf walks alongside me, more solid than the rest. One of his ears is hooked unnaturally, as if a chunk is missing. With a flash of gold eyes, he’s gone.
The Fade is a wondrous place…and a cold one. I find myself shivering more and more with every step. My feet feel heavy and my vision grows as tunneled as the path ahead. The streak of white that is Aurora’s hair and the broad, scarred swath of Evander’s back are my targets, the only things keeping me going on the right path.
We trudge through shadowed forest and thick marsh, across rocky bluff and into smooth grassland before pale moonlight can be seen once more in the distance. The far opening of the tunnel is like a beacon, shining from a lighthouse on a distant shore.
As easily as we entered the Fade, we leave it. No sooner have I stepped foot into the land of Midscape, than the pot containing Mary at my hip explodes, sending shards of clay into my flesh and dirt showering everywhere. The torch in my hand bursts into flame, and, for a moment, I am blinded by light.
CHAPTER 7
I let outa yelp of surprise and drop the torch before the fire can reach my hand and singe my flesh. Like balls of yarn let loose, viny tendrils unfurl from my hip at the same time as the flame’s explosion. The foliage weaves together, forming a torso, two legs, and two arms. There is a head of tightly woven stems, two massive leaves for ears. A halo of marigolds like hair sprouts all around the green head.
The wood of my makeshift torch is instantly turned to ash. But the shard of brick is enveloped in a hovering orb of flame. Instead of legs, the fire flickers down to a point. Two tongues of flame become arms. Then, a head, with two glowing, golden eyes.
“Mary? Folost?” I stammer, looking between the two.
“Just so, Faelyn.” Folost raises a fiery arm to his torso, where the brick is—where a heart would otherwise be.
“What in the—” Bardulf leaps to action, as if wanting to protect Aurora and myself.
“They’re harmless,” Aurora says dully. “Calm yourself.”
I give Aurora a thankful look and turn back to my spirit friends. “You both can speak?”
“In this world where magic is still strong, we can…to those who are capable of understanding. Our powers were diminished with time in the Natural World,” Mary says. Where Folost’s voice crackles like the roar of a fire, Mary’s is sweet and light, like the buzz of pollinators drifting on meadow breezes.
“We need to carry on,” Bardulf gruffly reminds us. I shoot him a glare that hits about as well as a sharpened stick against plate armor.
“Bardulf, my simple-minded friend.” Evander tsks with a shake of his head.
“How dare you,” Bardulf snarls.
“Can you not see the benefit we bring to Conri?” Evander motions to me.
“I see Aurora’s power split and half of it is in a thing that thinks and walks rather than a ring to be worn.” Bardulf begins to pace again. He is more shark than wolf, circling in the waters around us.
“Conri has not only the moon spirit, and her power, but the power of a weaver witch with spirits in tow.” Evander gestures as though this should have been an obvious assumption.
These men are in competition for which I hate more, being called a “thing,” or having my abilities coveted as though they are something to be possessed and used. But I keep my discomfort concealed. After all, Evander seems to have Bardulf no longer circling. And Evander’s plans of offering my skills to Conri is something to worry over in the future.
“Folost, Mary, now that you’ve been successfully returned to Midscape, you should go and commune with the old gods to fully restore your strength,” Aurora says gently. “There are precious little of us left.”
I’m completely pulled from worrying about the men, and I focus back between the woman and my bonded spirits—my friends. I knew that, under no circumstances, would I ever leavethem behind. But the idea that they might leave me never once crossed my mind and I suddenly feel so selfish for it.
“Do you need to regain your strength? Are you both unwell?” It’s a silly question, given what I just saw. If they had been well, then they wouldn’t have been relegated to such weakened forms for decades. Was this somehow my fault? Did I keep them at my side well past when I should have set them free? “I hadn’t known that you were suffering… I am so sorry.”
“You need not apologize,” Folost says warmly.
Mary lifts a pointed arm and a small vine unfurls, a marigold at its end, that wraps around my wrist. “Fear not; we shall not abandon you, Faelyn.”
“I…” I can’t say it wasn’t a fear of mine. They know me too well. Have seen every moment of my life where someone I love left. Be it my mother going into the woods and never returning. The boy I loved abandoning me with nothing but a broken heart to remember him by. Or clutching my grandmother’s hand every hour until the magic uncoiled from her body. But I must be strong for my friends now. It doesn’t matter what happened to me in the past, I won’t hold them back. “I know you wouldn’t abandon me. But looking after yourself and your well-being isn’t abandoning. I love you both, and want you both well, foremost.”
“You don’t have to tell us. We know. You never failed to ensure Folost had enough charcoal, or that my soil was properly watered.” The vines shift into what I think is a smile. “You might not see us often in these forms, here, as they take great effort for us to maintain. But we will be with you. You know how to call upon us, whenever you need.”
A vine reaches out to the ground, selecting a small shard of clay from the pot that shattered at my hip. Mary lifts it, holding it before me. I accept the token with both hands. Grandma’s thumbprint dents its surface. Folost does a similar motion, passing the shard of brick from within him into my hands. It’sburning hot, but only for a fleeting moment. Somehow, I don’t seem to really feel the singe at all.
“We are honored to be bound to a witch such as you. Never hesitate to call upon us whenever you need.” With those last words, Folost’s flames wrap in on himself and sputter out of existence with a puff of smoke.
