“Hello, Mae,” she says, her ethereal voice wrapping around me and ensnaring me.
“H-hello,” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze from hers.
She pauses at the foot of the bed. A sun-yellow butterfly settles on her shoulder. She glances at it, eyes brightening as she beholds the delicate creature. Every move she makes is pure grace. Her elegant hands come to rest on the foot of the bed. A bright green caterpillar crawls along one finger, slowly inching up her hand. She turns her gaze to me, her piercing eyes brightening as they land on mine.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks, her voice reminding me of the sunshine on a spring day.
I begin to say no, but I stop as a voice whispers in my head.
Mother. Maker. Creator.
She smiles, revealing perfectly straight teeth as bright as the Eternal Star.
“This is a dream,” I manage to say.
She nods, her smile falling away as she does. “It is, my child.”
I stare at her, still unable to look away. I swear I can see the reflection of the choppy waves of the Icebound Sea in her eyes. “This isn’t real,” I whisper.
She raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Isn’t everything real with magic?”
The caterpillar inches its way up her forearm now. She places a graceful finger in front of its path, watching as it slowly crawls up her slender finger. When it’s in the palm of her hand, she cups her hands together and traps the caterpillar inside.
“But some things are not as they might seem,” she says, glancing down at her closed hands. Her hair falls forward, long strands framing her face. She looks up, eyes now resembling the celestial kaleidoscope of the Adastreia Galaxy, and opens her hands. The caterpillar is gone, now replaced by a thin, forest-green book.
“Remember that, always,” she whispers, placing the book on the foot of the bed.
Without taking my eyes off her, I lean forward, eager to see what’s inside the book. But before I can grab it, I’m flat on my back again, staring up at the ceiling.
The floral scent is gone. The ceiling is pristine, not a hint of moss on the white paint and neat trim. I surge upward, head whipping from corner to corner. No trace of the dream remains.
It felt soreal…
Light filters in through the windows, the curtains unable to keep out the morning sun. I throw the covers back and head to the bathroom. Before I exit my bedroom, I look back, unable to shake the feeling that the dream was real.
My eyes snag on something green. Something moving.
A leafy green caterpillar lazily inches it way down one of the wooden bed posts. I hurry to it, sinking to my hands and knees as I watch it go further and further down the post. It’s unmistakably the caterpillar from my dream.
The exact caterpillar that was crawling on the Mother. I reach for it, but something stops me. Something is telling me to watch.
After what feels like ages, the caterpillar makes its way to the wooden floors and begins to crawl under my bed.
Eagerly, I yank the ivory bed skirt up and freeze when I see what’s there. Underneath the bed sits the thin, green book the Mother was holding. Chills spread through me as the realization dawns on me.
The Mother was in my bedroom last night. The Mother spoke to me. The Creator of all, the god that rules our kingdom, was inmybedroom. Speaking tome.
I reach for the book, lifting it gently from the dark wood floors. It’s light in my hands as I bring it closer. An emblem of a stag is embossed on the hardcover. It’s similar to the emblem of our House, but this deer has pointed ears.
The spine cracks as I open it, the sound a familiar comfort as I sit on the floor and stare at the yellowed pages. The pages are textured and worn, as if turned countless times over the many years, maybe even centuries. I lean against the bed and begin to read.
The First Deer Queen
In days of old, when the ancient forests stretched far and wide, there dwelt a kingdom where magic danced freely. Within this kingdom, there lived a Faerie King and Queen, blessed with two daughters as different as moon and sun.
One morn, the noble King was on a stroll with his youngest daughter—a sprightly thing who delighted in games of hide and seek. Suddenly, she darted through the forest.
“Come seek me, Papa!” her voice called, floating betwixt the ancient trees. She was nimble and full of grace, which made her skilled at hiding. His eldest daughter, bless her gentle heart, could never master such games, for her feet stomped too loudly over the well-trodden forest grounds.
