Page 11 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
The world tips sideways, even though my body isn’t moving. The sensation persists even after I close my eyes.
I scan my surroundings. There is a forest to my left and a craggy natural path that leads sharply up to my right.
I glance at the thicket. It is inviting, singing to my soul. A neat earthen path runs between plush trees, with daisies sprouting along it. Warm, filtered sunlight dances through the foliage, casting thick beams that butterflies flutter within. Except I swear this place is locked in perpetual dusk. And I have never seen a butterfly in the wild. Not in this realm. They are a luxury pet imported from the human realm centuries ago.
I close my eyes and rub my fingers across them.
The thicket is still there when I open them, except it is cast in deep shadow. Yellowed skeletons litter the ground instead of flowers, and the roots of ancient trees, each as thick as my thigh, move across the forest floor so the paths into its depths are ever-changing. Those woody limbs are slowly creeping toward me.
Worst are the flowers the size of dinner plates extending from succulents that spill from every nook and cranny in the trees’ branches. They are pure black, leaking shadows, with dozens of darts in their centers. A small, twisted puka scurries across the forest floor, and one of those needles flies out of a flower and skewers it.
I turn to my right. The craggy path up the mountain looks fucking hard, and I am already so tired. In many places it just stops—I would have to scale the wall again. My hands are still bleeding from the last time. And there is a rockfall that never seems to end, boulders collapsing down the stone face and barreling across the paths. I squint at their trajectory. They don’t have any continuity or make sense at all. There is also the fact that their deafening roar doesn’t shake the ground.
I turn back to the forest, where a tree nymph bathes in sunlight and beckons to me with a waving hand to follow her. Others materialize from behind the trees and smile. I swear there is harp music coming from that direction. I take an unsure step toward all those friendly faces, but falter. Gods, I want to believe the illusion. To travel the easier path.
Not that way,the sweetest voice rings in my head.Take the stony path. Climb the wall.
How can I refuse that siren’s call?
You should be sleeping, dear heart,I reply, because some deep part of me remembers.
You need me, Aldrin. I’m not going anywhere.
I take the damned stony path, walking straight toward massive, rolling boulders like a lunatic, my heart in my throat. One after another, they evaporate like air under my touch. The pads of my fingers tear open as I scale ridiculous heights with nothing but my bare hands, my feet in the wrong sort of boots, and erratic air magic that I can hardly control because I am high as fuck on drugs.
I am half blinded, with no idea how far up I am or how much more slate I need to scale. At one point I find myself going sideways and only the gods know why.
Keira nudges me in the right direction. She keeps me going with praise long after my body is overtaken by the shakes and all I want to do is find a place to curl up and go to sleep. I pull myself up into the thick mists hugging the stone and making it slick.
By the darkness, there are flowers here, clinging to life in the tiniest divots in the wall. As I pass with a wide berth, the blooms’ heads swivel around toward my movement and spray an aerosol that gets in my eyes anyway.
I curse with every profanity I know, doubling many up for good measure.
The buzzing of hundreds of wings has me scrambling up the outcrop. A swarm of furry doxies descends on me, their purple wings moving so fast their collective drone is deafening. The creatures each have four arms and four legs, tipped in long claws for slicing flesh, and sharp teeth for drawing blood to drink. This number could shred me to ribbons.
I swat away the first to reach me, my gorge rising and my heart pounding. I throw waves of air torrents at them, but I must be weakening, because it doesn’t even stop them. They climb all over me, latching on and biting my skin. The pain of a thousand sharp pricks rattles through me, never-ending.
Are the doxies real, Aldrin?That voice again.Grab one. Squash it.
I wrap my fist around one, but it is like clutching air. I grab another, and it disappears. Then, I swing around sharply and slam my back into the wall. All those creatures on my shoulders should be crushed between me and the rock face, but I feel nothing.
They are not real,I confirm.At least, I don’t think they are.I cannot trust my senses right now, and that is a terrifying thing.
Do not look at them. Do not think of them. Climb!she urges.
That’s easy for you to say. Have you ever been coated in a swarm of biting insects?I grumble.
I pull myself up over the lip of yet another cliff, drenched in cold sweat, streaked with mud and panting hard. I collapse onto my knees, squinting through the onslaught of intense colors assaulting my eyes. A field covered with boulders is laid out before me, pulsating in a vivid rainbow spectrum.
A figure resolves in its midst, her body and featureless face a halo of brilliant white light. Her long hair is splayed out around her, moving on a phantom breeze, and she reaches out a hand as she slowly walks to me.
Lorrella. I would recognize my sister anywhere.
I long for her. To touch her one more time. To hear her voice. The intensity of that need floods my chest, making my heart beat erratically. Painfully.
Oh, Aldrin,that voice says in my head, heavy with heartbreak.
How could my angel be so devastated when Lorrella has returned to me?
