26.

  Faelwen

  I woke the next morning to find myself in Spook’s arms. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek felt oddly reassuring, but a jolt of panic broke the spell. I couldn’t do this. What if Ash found out? I’m sure he wouldn’t like it. And then we’d argue and then…

  I fidgeted with my necklace. I don’t want to lose him.

  Don’t worry, Wen. You make things bigger than they are. Ash is not going to leave you because you curled about against a friend for warmth. Artemis’s soothing voice calmed my racing heart. He yawned next to me and lazily stretched before padding over to me.

  Thanks, buddy. I am indeed in need of warmth. Let me check on the fireplace. I held my breath and tried to wriggle free without waking Spook. No such luck. His bright blue eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across his face before it gave way to a lopsided grin.

  “Good morning, little fox,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep as he stretched languidly and rolled onto his side.

  “Morning,” I replied softly, heat rushing to my cheeks as I scrambled to my feet. The brisk morning air nipped at my skin, forcing me to hurry as I knelt by the dying embers of our fire and coaxed it back to life.

  After a quiet, practiced morning routine, we strapped on our packs and set out again, the towering peaks of the mountains beckoning us higher. The ascent was gruelling, every step feeling heavier as the hours slipped away.

  By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose, Spook suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. I bumped into him with a curse and moved to peer over his shoulder. My breath caught as the world opened up before us.

  Caradsher?n.

  Nestled in the embrace of the mountains, the elven city shimmered like a dream made real. Silver-blue spires pierced the evening sky, their delicate tips glinting in the fading sunlight.

  Homes carved into the very rock itself cascaded down the slopes, their walls aglow with an ethereal light. Gilded bridges arched gracefully over a yawning chasm, where waterfalls tumbled in streams to join the roaring river far below.

  Golden-leafed trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches lining cobblestone streets that wound like veins through the city’s heart. Somewhere close, a melody drifted on the air, soft and lilting, perhaps the song of a lute or harp from a distant tavern.

  “Gods…” I whispered, unable to look away. Spook turned to glance at me, his eyes aglow with awe but his unease was clear. His hand brushed mine briefly, grounding me in the moment. No words were necessary. The thought hung between us like an unspoken vow: tread lightly.

  No human had ever set foot here, I think. Except maybe for Barnabas. With a small gesture I urged Spook forward. The weight of countless watchful eyes pressed on us as we made our way down the winding paths into the city.

  The elves of Caradsher?n were everything the old tales had promised. Their luminous beauty bordered on otherworldly, their robes woven with threads of silver and gold that seemed to catch and hold the light itself.

  Every moment was fluid, every glance sharp and knowing. Jewellery adorned their slender forms, a symphony of gemstones and metals glinting in the twilight.

  In contrast, we looked feral. Our travel-worn clothes, streaked with mud and dust, marked us as outsiders as clearly as a beacon. I caught snippets of hushed conversation as we passed, their lilting language melodic.

  Some stopped to stare outright at us, their faces stunned, while others hurried by, their steps quickened as though our presence might sully the very air.

  I stole a glance at Spook. His jaw was tight, his muscles coiled as if ready to spring. His eyes darted from left to right. Searching. Probably for an escape route or some shadows to disappear in. The city’s radiant glow left no room for anonymity. And I knew Spook hated that.

  Despite the lack of shadows, we pressed on, our eyes drawn to the great palace that loomed ahead. It rose from the mountainside like a crown of alabaster and emerald, its spires reaching towards the heavens.

  If there were answers to be found in this shimmering dreamscape, they would lie within those grand walls, I hope. A feeling of doubt gnawed at my insides. What if Barnabas hadn’t made it here after all? What if he did perish? No. I had to keep hope that somehow he might have made it out, despite his growing weakness over the years.

  Our journey through the city felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss. Each step carried the weight of a thousand unspoken warnings, but we had come too far to turn back now.

  ? ? ?

  The bridge loomed ahead, an architectural marvel of silvery stone that arched gracefully over the chasm. We had to cross it to reach the palace.

  The roar of the river far below reached my ears, a ceaseless symphony of white and sapphire as water crashed against ancient rocks.

  My steps faltered when I saw them. Two elven soldiers waited at the start of the bridge as if they knew we’d come. Their figures were sharp and still as statues.

  We stepped onto the bridge, its surface smooth and cool beneath our feet. The soldiers noticed us and moved as one, blocking our path. Their leader, a tall figure clad in silver green armour etched with swirling patterns, spoke first, his voice sharp and steady as he addressed us in Elvish.

  Spook glanced at me, his expression a mix of unease and expectation. I realized too late that I hadn’t been listening. The elvish words were sometimes still foreign to my ears.

  I shrugged helplessly. The soldier’s piercing gaze narrowed before he switched to the common tongue, his tone clipped and authoritative.

  “What brings you here, strangers?”

  “I… We… uh…” my words stumbled over each other like a startled deer. Spook’s voice cut through my faltering.

  “We’ve come to speak with your king or queen. The world is in danger, and we need your help.” His words carried conviction, though his posture betrayed his tension.

  I nodded, brushing my hair back instinctively, only to catch the soldier’s gaze darting to my exposed ear. His sharp eyes widened slightly before he strode forward.

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  Spook moved to intercept him, but another soldier stepped in, gripping Spook by the shoulders and holding him firmly.

  Let him, Wen, Artemis’s calm voice sounded in my mind as his sleek fur brushed against my leg. The reassurance steadied me, but my heart still raced as the soldier stopped before me.

  He tilted my chin up with a surprisingly gentle touch and brushed the hair from my other ear. The cool air prickled my skin as both pointed tips were revealed.

  “What is your name?” he asked in Elvish, his tone suddenly more intent. I hesitated for a moment, then responded in elvish.

  “Faelwen… daughter of Eyela and Arvis,” I managed to say.

  The soldier released my chin and nodded to his companion, who immediately let go of Spook.

  “Follow us. My lord and lady have been waiting,” he commanded, already turning to lead the way across the bridge. Spook was at my side in an instant, his hand a steadying presence on my back.

  “You’re alright?” he asked softly. I nodded, my mind whirling. Were they expecting us? Together, we followed the soldiers into the heart of the elven city.

  ? ? ?

  The palace was a masterpiece of beauty and mystery. It blended seamlessly with the natural world. We entered beneath a grand archway into an open, circular chamber. My eyes immediately darted through the room, searching for that grey patch of wild hair from Barnabas. A heavy feeling settled on me when I didn’t find him.

  I let my gaze wander over the room to distract myself from this gnawing feeling that he might not be here. I was surprised to find out there was no roof; instead the first stars of evening twinkled above, framed by drifting clouds.

  Stepping stones floated gently on a stream that cut through the room, its waters sparkling as they flowed toward a waterfall spilling into the chasm below. Pillars adorned with intricate carvings and statues lined the chamber.

  Each statue was a work of art: Elves in flowing robes, some holding books, others playing musical instruments. One caught my attention, a figure with a staff, his robes flowing as if caught in an unseen current. The lifelike detail of his face sent a chill down my spine.

  The white eyes…

  Aeon Tempus.

  Did the elves worship him?

  Is that Aeon, buddy? I asked Artemis silently.

  He does look like it, doesn’t he? He replied, his tone thoughtful. Spook’s hand on my arm pulled me back to the moment as we moved past the statue and climbed a staircase leading to a grand platform.

  “Don’t get distracted, little fox. We need to stay alert,” he mumbled in my ear. I followed him towards the centre of the room.

  Two thrones, adorned with blue-silver and golden flowers, waited at its centre. But the thrones were empty. Instead, two figures stood before them. The elven lord and lady, radiant and commanding.

  Their almond-shaped eyes, deep as pools of amber, regarded us with piercing intensity. They were both dressed in similar golden robes, a modest silver tiara decorating their hair.

  The soldiers bowed before their lord and lady. Instinct urged me to kneel, but Spook and I held each other’s hand tightly and bowed our heads instead, seeking each other’s comfort as nerves racked through my body.

  “Rise,” the lord spoke in Elvish, his voice like a low chord on a harp. The soldiers obeyed immediately, stepping aside to leave us exposed before their rulers.

  “You need not fear us,” the lord said, switching smoothly to the common tongue.

  You are not enemies. The lady’s voice came not from her lips, but directly into my mind, soft and musical.

  Startled, my eyes darted to her. She smiled warmly, but my gaze dropped to her shoulders. Scars marred her otherwise flawless skin, deep and jagged as if fire had claimed her once.

  Long ago, a battle stole my voice, she explained, noticing my stare. But I have learned to speak through magic.

  Spook’s grip on my hand tightened. His wide eyes revealed his unease.

  “Is this what you feel when you talk to Artemis?” He whispered, his voice sounding fragile. I nodded, swallowing hard before responding to the lord and lady.

  “We’re here because we need your help. My name is Faelwen, and this is Spook.”

  The lord inclined his head. “We know who you are. Aeon told us of your arrival. I am Elandor, and this is my wife Amisra.”

  His next words sent a shiver through me.

  “Normally, we do not interfere in human affairs. But the darkness creeping along our borders leaves us no choice. If we do not stand with you, we may well be its next victims.”

  Amisra’s voice brushed my mind again, calming as a lullaby. You have travelled far and wide. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we will discuss how we might aid you.

  Elandor’s expression softened.

  “There is someone who would be happy to see you, Faelwen.”

  My heart skipped. Could it be? The soldiers stepped forward again, gesturing for us to follow. As we left, Elandor’s steady gaze followed us.

  “We will see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice weighted with promise.

  “Stay close to me,” Spook mumbled, still a little tense. I automatically followed him, my mind replaying Elandor’s words.

  Do you think Barnabas is here, buddy? I asked Artemis, my thoughts brushing against his steady presence. He seemed to hesitate, his golden eyes distant.

  I’m not sure, Wen, he replied, his tone pensive.

  A flutter of hope and apprehension stirred within me, a storm of emotions threatening to spill over. Spook walked silently behind me, his footsteps nearly imperceptible, a shadow at my back.

  The corridor we followed stretched endlessly ahead, a winding path that opened onto breathtaking views of the city below. But my thoughts were too far away to enjoy the beauties of this view.

  As we neared the end of the corridor, I caught something in the corner of my eye. A shrine. It was a small, circular chamber where a fishpond shimmered in the evening light.

  At the pond’s edge stood a shrine, its statue draped in moss and wildflowers, the offerings of countless years. But it seemed as if nobody had gone to this shrine in a long while.

  The statue looked weathered and draped in plants so that it was hard to see the details. Golden eyes gleamed from the weathered face of a man, staring straight into me, as if the god behind the stone could see my every thought. There was something about it…

  I stepped carefully across the pond’s slippery stepping stones, each one a cool touch beneath my feet, until I stood before the figure. Looking up into his eyes.

  “Those eyes…” Spook’s voice broke the stillness, low and thoughtful. “They remind me of someone.”

  I nodded, my voice barely a whisper.

  “Me too.”

  Artemis’s voice, sharp with impatience, broke into my mind.

  Are you two finished staring at that old statue? The soldiers have already moved on.

  I turned, meeting his piercing, golden gaze and grinned.

  “What’s the matter? Jealous of a statue getting more attention than you?”

  Artemis snorted and padded toward the exit, his grey brown fur catching the light.

  Careful, Wen. That will cost you an extra hour brushing my fur tonight, he teased, his voice tinged with wry amusement. I chuckled, my mood lightened by his banter. Behind me, Spook lingered by the shrine, his eyes glinting with curiosity as they studied the god’s golden stare.

  “Are you coming?” I called over my shoulder. He turned, a smile tugging at his lips. With a graceful leap, he crossed the pond and nudged me gently forward.

  “Let's go,” he murmured. We followed the soldiers into a room that took my breath away. It was neither fully indoors nor outdoors but seemed to straddle both realms in perfect harmony.

  Elegant stone archways led to other sections of the chamber, while a large pond at the far end reflected the soft glow of a waterfall tumbling down the mountainside. The reflection of the rising moon was clear in the water. The heart of the room was a great oaken table, its surface laden with freshly prepared food.

  The air carried the aroma of spices and herbs, mingling with the crisp scent of water and stone. Handwoven carpets of vibrant colours softened the stone floor, their intricate patterns a feast for the eyes.

  The soldiers left us at the doorway, their departure silent as they closed the doors behind them. From one of the chairs, a figure rose. My heart skipped a beat.

  He moved with casual ease, his black, wavy hair catching the light in a way that stole my breath. My heart stuttered as his face came into focus. A combination of relief and… sadness whirled inside of me. No Barnabas, but…

  “Ash?” The word slipped from my lips, barely audible. The man turned, his emerald-green eyes brimming with unshed tears. A grin—wide and cheeky—unmistakably his, spread across his face.

  “It took you long enough, darling,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. Before he could say another word, I was running. I collided with him, my arms wrapping tightly around his neck as if I could anchor myself to him and never let go.

  His strong arms encircled me, pulling me against his chest as tears streaked down my cheeks. I was so happy to see him, but at the same time I wondered where Barnabas was. Had he even made it here?

  Ash’s hand brushed gently over my hair, his touch soothing as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

  “I missed you, Wen,” he murmured, his voice filled with the kind of tenderness that breaks and mends your heart all at once. Even Artemis seemed pleased to see him, brushing his fur against his leg. Ash chuckled and ruffled his fur with his hand. I tried to push the lingering grief to the back of my mind and enjoy the fact that Ash was here. With me.

  I pulled his notebook from my pocket and handed it to him.

  “Here, I believe this belongs to you. I promise I haven’t opened your diary… yet,” I smiled. Ash chuckled in response, giving me a playful glare before placing the notebook in his bag.