When our bodies are at their weakest, our souls may fly to you
This is the mystery of the moon
This is the entry to the Crystal Castle
At the gates of death we call to you
At the gates of life we call to you
Morgana Le Fae, Queen of all fae creatures, Mistress of the Moon
Teach us the secret magic of the Crystal Castle.
The sky went black, and everything became completely silent.
45
Morgana Le Fae towered over Black Sands Beach like a statue carved into the headland, or an ancient effigy, risen from a land long forgotten under the waves.
There was a sudden hush, and everything stopped: the wind, the waves, the thunder. Everything found a moment of stillness, and in that stillness, the sun shone a bright, wide beam of light onto the beach.
Faye, on her knees, feeling the baby come, was only dimly aware of it. All her attention was focused on the pain, and the overwhelming desire to push. The pain was a dark red sea, and every breath brought her to the surface for a brief second of respite before sinking back into its churning depths. There was nothing but her body and the child that seemed desperate and yet unable to get free of it – like a fish in a net, grasping and bucking, terrified of the air that awaited it and the loss of the comfort of water.
Morgana Le Fae, the faerie queen of the Crystal Castle, the place where all faerie magic ended and began, held up her left hand. Her skin was black and scaled like a snake or a kelpie, and she had no fingernails. She wore a silver robe with a hoodthat lay on her shoulders; the outer edges of her were indistinct, shadowy, but her gaze was as though moonlight projected through slits cut in a black mask.
At her command, the two faerie queens froze in stillness like the storm they had created. Without speaking, Morgana swept Faye into her arms and disappeared into the moonlight.
Faye awoke to the sound of quiet singing. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t; immobility forced her head back against the soft pillows that held her in a reclining position. Her eyes adjusted to the pinkish light.
She lay in a wide, white bed in the centre of the seven-pointed Crystal Castle of the Moon. It was exactly as she remembered from before. Made of a pink, glowing crystal, the walls reached up into towers, and the floor under her featured a seven-pointed star that mimicked the shape of the castle in black crystal of some kind – jet, perhaps, or obsidian, like Lyr’s crystal. Apart from her bed, there was nothing and no one else there. The nearby singing appeared to be coming from the castle itself.
Remembering the beach – that she’d been on her hands and knees, giving birth as the two faerie queens argued over her baby – her hands went instinctively to her belly. Something was wrong.The baby.Where was the baby?
She could feel nothing at all from her breastbone downwards: no pain, no movement from the child. Her belly was slightly deflated, though it was nowhere near flat.
‘Where am I? Where’s my baby?!’ Faye screamed, terror giving her strength. Despite her paralysis, she pushed herself up on her arms and looked around her. ‘Please! Where have you taken my baby?!’
Her voice echoed back at her from the crystalline walls; there was no answer.
She started to cry. Despite everything, the child had been taken from her. She knew this was the centre of all magic in the faerie realms. What did that mean for her and the child? Did it mean that Levantiana had won and brought them here? Or Moronoe? It seemed unlikely that it was Faye’s aunt; surely Moronoe would have taken her to her own queendom. So, she must be here at the behest of Levantiana. Which meant that she would never see her child again…
There was a sudden movement in the air, and Morgana Le Fae appeared next to the bed. Faye took a deep breath at the faerie queen’s presence. They had met before, and Faye had forgotten what an intense experience it was, being in the same space as the Mistress of Magic.
Morgana’s appearance had changed. Now, as she laid a hand on Faye’s brow, she appeared as a maiden – young, milk-skinned, with waist length white hair. She wore a silver crescent moon circlet on her forehead and a white garment that suggested an old-fashioned nurse, with a long apron over a longer, full-skirted dress. She held a bundle in her arms.
Faye’s eyes widened and reached for it. It felt as though her heart was exploding with a warm desperation.
‘My baby! Give him to me. Is it a boy? Or a girl? Please, Morgana. Please,’ she begged, alight with an electric blue panic that surged from her womb and clutched her heart in its cold grip. It was more than worry, more than anxiety: sheneededto hold her child, like she needed to breathe and eat and drink. It was her body that told her; the baby was part of her. It needed to return to her.
Morgana smiled as a thin cry reverberated into the crystal chamber.
‘You can do better than that, little one.’ She held him aloft and shook him gently. Faye flinched, reaching out for him. The baby cried, louder now. The faerie queen cocked her head, listening to the baby wail, and lowered the bundle so that she could study it dispassionately. ‘It is a boy,’ she added.
‘Please. Give me my child.’ Faye tried to move, but was still motionless from the chest down.
Morgana smiled and brought the baby back down, and as Faye watched, unhooked her apron and unbuttoned the white dress underneath.
‘All in good time,sidhe-leth,’ she said, and held the bundle to her naked breast.
