It took a moment for my mind to catch up with what I was seeing.
A single oak tree stood at the meadow’s center. Thick branches spread wide to embrace the sun’s scorching intensity.
The most disturbing thing though was what lay in the oak tree’s shadow.
Bodies in various states of decay. All caged within roots protruding from the ground.
Within one of those prisons lay a man. His face hidden by a swath of auburn hair the color of leaves in the most vibrant part of fall. The shade an exact match for the Fae’s beside me.
“Breandan,” Baran whispered.
Seeing he was about to run toward his twin, I grabbed his arm. “It’s a trap.”
Magic riddled the meadow. The moment Baran set foot into the sun, the roots below would swallow him whole, leaving him no better off than his twin.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Baran growled, flinging my hand off him.
“If you know, then don’t be stupid.”
I’d warned him. From here on out, he was on his own.
A flash of blue and purple amidst the green of the tree’s branches caught my eye. I made a small sound of horror as my brain struggled to interpret what I was seeing.
Young branches, nubile and flexible, had been braided to form a spherical cage. Inside was one of the two pixies I counted as friends. With tattered wings dragging behind him, Lowen hung suspended in the middle of the cage. Vines wrapped harshly around his limbs to keep him immobile. Their tightness rubbed his skin raw, leaving trails of a darker liquid I knew was blood.
“It’s not so easy when it’s one of yours, is it?” Baran taunted.
I glared, wishing I could shove him into the meadow and danger.
Underbrush crunched as the thing that had chased us through the forest stepped into the meadow.
“What. Is. That?” I asked in a low voice.
A creature whose lower half resembled a stag but whose torso and face were humanoid turned to us. Antlers branched from his head. His ears were pointy and long. His hair looked like sunlight distilled into physical form. Flora sprouted from his shoulder and lower waist, concealing his privates.
I didn’t have a word for what he was. Something other. That’s all I knew. An eldritch creature from time primordial.
“Our death,” Baran whispered.
He slumped to the ground, blood oozing out of his eyes and ears as he fought to stay conscious.
Distantly, I noted my cheeks were wet. Something liquid slid down the side of my neck from my ears. A whimper crawled up my throat as the eldritch thing paced closer. Each cloven footstep causing the meadow to bloom around him before wilting after his passage.
“No! You can’t! Not her!”
Inara zipped in front of me, her wings fanning to block my view of the eldritch creature. She scanned me quickly, taking in my state before spinning to address the other.
An argument ensued. The content of which I couldn’t understand. The high pitched buzzing of Inara’s voice competed with the low bugles of the eldritch’s.
“I won’t let you,” Inara finally snarled.
Another series of bugles. This time accompanied by several grunts and whistles.
Inara spun to set her tiny hands on my nose as her gaze pleaded with me. “You can’t be here, Aileen. You’re not strong enough yet.”
A soft woof came from the shadows of the forest behind me.
Relief flooded Inara’s face. “Take her. Put her somewhere safe.”
