It was a warm summer afternoon, and a gentle breeze whistled a haunting tune as it slipped through the Willow’s branches. I was wandering deeper into the valley that day than I ever had in years past. Mother warned me to stay close, but I found the most peculiar trail of Sunspire daisies, their ruby red petals stained with black that smoked and sizzled in the sunlight, and decided to follow them to the source of the stain. The trail was winding and uneven: through tall grass, over gnarled roots, and into the deep place where the canopy’s light grew dim.

  “Just where are you taking me?” I asked aloud. Perhaps I should have known better — no, there’s no doubt I should have known better — but something about the chase excited me. Even as the air grew thick, my lungs felt light, my heart racing to keep up with my feet. Round twists and turns, deeper I plunged into the valley, my mind set on nothing but uncovering the identity of whatever had left the stain.

  But as I rounded a corner, my blood ran cold, and I came to a stumbling stop, saved from falling only by the grace of a nearby tree breaking my fall. My eyes widened, and my mouth ran dry. There, in a dark clearing, was the culprit: a creature twice the size of a horse, with burned, prickly fur, cloven hooves, and a wide snout that drew in long, snorting gulps of air with every breath. Its wild eyes, beady and black, scanned its surroundings with anxious sweeps of its oversized head.

  A dreadtusk, one of the Fiend Lord’s Fellbeasts. I’d never seen one in person, and though fear gripped my heart and urged me to flee, so too did curiosity keep my feet firmly planted.

  It drew in a sharp breath and tossed its head back, emitting a shrieking, nasally screech that shook the leaves and rattled the Mother Willow’s crown. Then, its dying breath spent, it fell to the ground with a thunderous thump.

  For minutes that felt like days, I watched it without blinking, without breathing, the memory of the ironstag hunt from my youth playing back in my mind. But when the light overhead started to dim, I knew it had passed into silence and stillness. Creeping out from where I’d remained hidden for over an hour, I carefully made my way through the foliage. Mindful of every step, lest a single misplaced footfall snap a twig and wake it from its eternal slumber.

  “Look at you…” The words tumbled from my mouth as I at last stood next to my quarry. With trembling hands, I touched its fur. At the slightest brush, I felt a prick of pain even through my gloves. Even in death, its body was a weapon. “Now let’s see what it was that did you in.”

  I scanned its body, careful to avoid touching its razor-like fur, until I uncovered a slit along its belly. Something sharp — a Hero’s blade? Perhaps Lucien or Vasco had found it first? — had cleaved it from tip to tail. How it managed to make it so far with its boiling innards spilling out was yet another mystery unto itself. But much as I longed to investigate the beast further, I knew from the fading streams of light overhead that I should head home.

  Still, this was an opportunity I’d not likely to see again. After years chasing dead ends, this might have finally been the breakthrough for which I’d searched.

  “I hope you don’t mind, my good sir.” I said with a soft laugh, plucking a glass phial from my satchel and holding it under the spigot of fellblood still spilling from its side. I’d seen the damage it had done in the past, and the trail of destruction it left through the forest, and took care to avoid letting any of it spill onto my hands. Satisfied, I corked the phial and held it up, marveling at the way it refused to reflect the light.

  Armed with a mostly-full phial of Fellbeast blood, I rose to my feet, dusted off my dress, and hurried back toward Spring Hill.

  Mother was going to be furious with me.

  ***

  I reached the hamlet just as the first stars were beginning to shine in the night sky. The trip back had left me winded, my hair loose from its braid. Though my legs were sore from navigating the deep wood’s terrain, I maintained a steady jog as I made my way through the square.

  “Back late, Celeste?” A voice asked, bringing me to a halt. “Out hunting with Hannah again?”

  Leon was seated outside the Sundrop, smoking a pipe with a bottle hanging loose between his fingers. His throat burned with each drag, causing my jaw to tighten.

  My joy forgotten in a moment of frustration, I stormed over to him and plucked the pipe from his hand. “I was not, my good sir. And what have we discussed regarding your smoking?”

  He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. “Come now, girl. Don’t steal a man’s joy after a hard day.”

  “If his joy is found in harming himself with fire and poison, I’ll gladly snatch it away.” I turned over the pipe, smacked the bottom, then ground the burning remains into the dirt with my boot. Then, I handed it back to him. “There are countless ways to find relief in this wonderful world, Mr. Leon, would you not prefer one less destructive?”

  Leon took the pipe and sighed.

  “I’ve made it this long, Celeste. A little burn can be a good thing. Wakes the senses and calms the mind.”

  “And what will Elisabeth say when it leads you to an early grave? At least my departed Father died peacefully before my tenth Summer?” I took my head and sighed, placing my hands on my hips. “Should that awful future come to pass, rest assured, she will know it’s one you chose yourself.”

  “You’re terrible, Celeste.” Leon rose to his feet and glanced down at the bottle in his hand. He then offered it to me. “Will you be wanting this too, Madam Apothecary?” Though he spoke in a low, solemn tone, there was the hint of a smirk on his face.

  My eyes drifted to the bottle and my mouth turned dry. “And you are even more terrible, my good sir.” But, I accepted the bottle gratefully and took a drink. When I handed it back, a smile replaced my frown. “I only fuss because I worry for you.”

  “I know you do, girl.” Leon took a long swig from the bottle. Then he wiped his mouth and held it out again. I shook my head, but when he insisted, I relented and took another drink. “Where were you if not with Hannah? It’s unlike you to be traipsing home this late.”

  I froze with the bottle still at my lips. One sip turned to two, then three. It took conscious effort for me to lower it and hand the last drink back to him. “I was searching for new plants in the deep wood and I happened upon something…intriguing.”

  “Intriguing?” Leon finished the last of the ale. “Brewing up a new miracle for us, are you?”

  “We shall see.” My smile grew, the heart-pounding eagerness from earlier returning in full force. “If I may be so bold, I’m quite optimistic about the possibilities.”

  Leon laughed and raised the empty bottle in a toast. “Well, don’t let me keep you then. Say hi to your Mother for me.”

  “I will. Good night, Mr. Leon.”

  ***

  When I stepped into our cottage, the scent of rosemary and stewed vegetables awakened a hunger my misadventure had distracted me from. I sat down my satchel and shuffled out of my boots, my tired, aching feet thanking me for my generosity, before making my way to the kitchen where my mother was busying herself with dinner.

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  “Celeste? Is that you?” She called without looking away from her work.

  “It is. I’m sorry I’m late, Mother.” I answered, falling into step beside her and setting the table. She said nothing in return but a simple “Mm,” that made my heart ache. With pursed lips and a creased brow, I cleared my throat and admitted to my crime. “I lost track of time exploring the valley.”

  “You went deeper than you should, didn’t you?” She asked. Though it was phrased as a question, her tone left no doubt that she already knew its answer.

  I nodded, and she sighed.

  “Celeste, I swear, you are the worst girl since Eve. How many times have I asked you to stick to the road and avoid the dark wood? What if you ran into —”

  “I found a Fellbeast,” I said, cutting her off.

  Her busy hands came to a rare pause, and her mouth formed a thin line.

  “Oh?”

  I nodded again. “But, you needn’t worry. It was dead by the time I came upon it. Perhaps V’s doing?” I offered with a smile, knowing how she loved to sing my brother’s praises.

  Sure enough, her chest swelled with pride, and a smile returned to her face. “Or perhaps Lucien?” She said with a smirk in my direction.

  “Perhaps…he does so love to swing that spear of his. It would surely make him happy to know he’d found a suitable target for a change.” I laughed, and to my relief, she joined me. “By the by, Leon sends his regards.”

  “Smoking again was he?”

  “As always, but I’ll break him of the habit yet.”

  We finished preparing dinner in a comfortable silence, one that continued as we ate. Snuggled beneath the quiet like a warm blanket, I could scarcely hide my smile as I thought back to the prize waiting in my satchel.

  Mother noticed and sat her spoon down with a sigh.

  “What have you done, Celeste?”

  “Nothing wrong.” I responded quickly, too quickly for her tastes. I peered up at her with guilty eyes and an apologetic smile. “And nothing too dangerous, so long as I’m careful.”

  Mother continued to stare at me with a craned eyebrow and a wary frown. Were it anyone else, I’d have insisted my innocence, but under her gaze I couldn’t help but wilt. I bought myself a moment longer with a spoonful of stew and a sip of water. Then,

  “I brought back a phial of fellblood.”

  “Celeste!”

  “The beast was dead. I watched it die, myself.” My protests did nothing to ease Mother’s concern. Color painted her cheeks, and her gaze shifted toward my satchel.

  “You know how dangerous it is…”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “Then why bring it home? She asked in a hushed voice.

  “I needed some.” I raised my head and looked her in the eye: determination in my unwavering stare, reassurance painted on my smile. “It’s the one compound I’ve been lacking in my research. I’m certain if I can unravel its properties, I’ll finally be able to make a breakthrough!”

  She sighed again, and my heart fluttered in my chest. I’d won, and she knew it.

  “That’s true.” Mother admitted after finishing the last of her dinner. She rose to her feet to clean, but I beat her to the draw, snapping up her bowl and planting a kiss atop her snowy curls. “But, you must be careful, Celeste. I know you’re eager to make a difference, but you’re not dealing with witch hazel, or viper venom, or — or even Dragon’s Bane, this is —”

  “I know, Mother.” I knew the dangers of the fellblood. I felt it every day in Mother’s hands, or reflected in the sadness behind Hannah’s eyes when she thought herself alone. It was as much a weapon of the Fellbeasts as their razor fur and goring tusks. But seeing the damage it had caused, and thinking back to my countless failures to overcome it, only spurred my enthusiasm, instead of taper it.

  “I’ll be careful,” I assured her with another kiss and a long, tight hug. When her arms snaked around my waist and held me tight, I released a contented sigh. Not even the chill of twenty-three Winters could purge me of the warmth I felt nestled in her embrace. We stayed like that for a moment longer than normal until at last we both were satisfied.

  Mother rose to her feet, patted my cheek, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I flinched and pulled away, brushing it back into place. A hand on my arm eased the stiffness in my shoulders, and I turned, offering an apologetic sigh.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mother shook her head. “No, don’t apologize. That was my fault.” She made to retreat to the kitchen, but I shook my head and blocked her way.

  “No, you’ve worked hard enough today. Let me finish cleaning up.”

  “Celeste, it’s fine. I just want to —”

  Again, I shook my head. “Absolutely not. You need to rest, and I’ll hear no objections.”

  Her face screwed up into a pout, but she relented, knowing this was a fight I’d not lose. She kissed my cheek and patted my arm, then retreated to the front porch to enjoy the breeze and the cricket’s evening symphony.

  I waited, feeling her pain pulsing in the soles of my feet, radiating up to my hips, with that familiar burn between my fingers. Once Mother was resting comfortably, I breathed a sigh of relief. My filial duty complete, I set about cleaning up after dinner. All the while, visions of what discoveries might lie in wait within that phial dancing in the back of my mind.

  ***

  When at last the day was done and the moon took her throne among the stars, I saw Mother off to bed and hurried to my own. My insides were a flutter as I changed into my evening gown and undid what remained of my messy braid, lilac waves rolling past my shoulders. Sitting next to the back door, gazing through the window into the garden with half-lidded eyes, I brushed the tangles my hair. With each stroke, I pondered the possibilities. Where to start? Where to go? My pulse quickened at each one, a grin overtaking me.

  Then, walking swiftly and silently, I slipped into bed and shut my eyes.

  ***

  Opening them again and sitting up with a renewed rush of energy and purpose. As I rose from bed, I left my body behind and moved through the quiet cottage as a ghost.

  The familiar tapestry, earthy shades of patchwork embroidery, wavered and wiggled in the haze that accompanied this place. Shapes that were sure and certain in the day — a kettle, the hearth, Mother’s rocking chair, Vasco’s letters on the table — shifted between formed and formless, never staying still for long.

  Though it was the dead of night, and not even moonlight could reach this place, the cottage was lit by an ethereal glow, one that seemed to come from everything and everywhere. The cricket’s chorus was more grand, accompanied by fiddles and horns, guitars and flutes; the air was warm, but cool, like my favorite blanket and the other side of the pillow at once.

  I approached my satchel, watching its shape take form and solidify when my hand touched it. Then, reaching inside, I plucked free my prize: the phial of Fellbeast Blood. Or rather, its reflection.

  My command of this place, one I’d begun calling the Dream, had grown with time. Not just a vessel for eavesdropping, or passing the night reading books, I learned that I could take advantage of its more fantastical properties if I just imagined it so.

  In time, it had become a laboratory of sorts. One where my materials never ran thin, and I could experiment without concern.

  “Now, let’s see what we can learn about you, good sir.” I hummed, making my way out the back door and down the dirt path to the garden. The loamy soil beneath my bare feet felt soft as a down pillow, pleasant and cool to the touch. Evening air, which had been humid during the day, was brisk and cool within the Dream, as if adjusted to suit my tastes.

  “Here we are.” I strolled through the garden, brushing my fingertips along the petals of the plants that bent and swayed to greet me. Filled with a variety of flowers of every shape, size, and color, it was the pride of our house. Taking a seat on a carefully maintained, well sanded wooden bench at the heart of the garden, I drew in a deep breath and closed my phantom eyes, drifting on a cloud of fragrant bliss.

  But enjoying the garden’s beauty was something I could do while awake. Tonight, I had a greater purpose. I turned around to sit at the worktable and lifted the phial to my eyes. Even in the Dream, the thick, sloshing liquid refused to reflect the light. Only now I noticed its viscosity had increased. No longer moving like blood, instead it flowed like tar.

  “Interesting.” I reached for a pad of parchment, summoning one to my fingertips with a thought. Quill in hand, I started to write. “Will it lose viscosity if heated again?” I pondered, noting that the temperature of the glass, while still quite warm to the touch, had dropped considerably.

  Reaching for a planter, and finding one exactly where I needed it to be, I pulled it close and inspected the soil. Then, I uncorked the phial.

  Immediately, a foul smell assaulted my senses, choking the breath in my lungs and forcing me to cough. The haze of the Dream grew thicker, darker, and more misshapen. Some of my favorite flowers grew distant. Others wilted. And a small number began to change, blackened with malice, their leaves and petals sharpening to a razor’s edge.

  “It wasn’t like this before.” I choked down a cough and held the phial at arm’s length. “Is it a property of the Dream? Or did it sour in the time since I gathered it?” Despite the noxious fumes, I wasn’t about to waste a perfectly good evening. So, with a deep breath to steady my nerves, I poured a drop into the planter.

  Watching the soil hiss and sizzle, churning and blackening until it turned gray and harder than stone. I took another note and reached for another planter, one filled with a different soil.

  “Don’t think you’ll get the best of me, my good sir.” I said with a grin.

  The night was still young, and I knew an impressive number of soil compositions. It was only a matter of time before I found the right one, or the sun rose and I tried again tomorrow.

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