Erya of the Silent Glade

“I… one day, maybe. Are you sure they’ll be able to help us? I always thought it was impossible to return magic, once it’s lost.” I took my sweet time, thoroughly chewing the last bite of a truly amazing pastry. Whatever else human society might suffer from, their culinary skills had much improved, since last I had had the chance to sample them.

After the Pendragon’s had left for their family outing, I had taken my granddaughter for another stroll through the city. The more experiences she’d get to make, the faster she’d be able to distance herself from her past. At least, that was, what I had been told. Admittedly, taking parenting advice from a queen turned fox, whose children had either run away, had almost doomed their home or harboured an immortal souls might not have been the best idea, but I was desperate. After aeons in a crystal cage, life seemed hellbent on making up for lost time, having me jump through hoops, I hadn’t even imagined existed.

But here I was, staring at a girl, I knew next to nothing about, a girl, who had nothing left in this world, but me and an ancient, lying treant, who was stuck in a wrinkly, human form. Gods, if she managed to stay alive for even a month, it’d be a miracle. Morgan was… likeable. Timid and insecure, but considering what she had been through, she was holding up surprisingly well. We had spent almost every waking minute together, ever since she had stumbled out of the portal and I wasn’t the least bit disappointed. Even though she had every reason in the world to detest her family, she had accepted me almost instantly. She wasn’t mad or desperate, simply glad, that she wasn’t alone and that her future wasn’t as bleak as she had believed.

Following another piece of Helena’s advice, I had refrained from taking her to a brothel, despite my ironclad conviction, that sex solved most problems. If I had been in Morgan’s shoes, I’d have liked nothing more, than to drown my sorrow and misery in the willing arms of a few dozens pretty faces, without any strings attached, but apparently that wasn’t the most sustainable way to deal with a loss. I didn’t particularly see the point, after all, physical intimacy was the best cure for a broken heart, but considering I was fey and she wasn’t, anymore, I had opted to listen to the mother, who had raised two and a half mortal children.

Consequentially, we had skirted around the more interesting taverns near the harbour and were enjoying an early lunch somewhere, much too civilised for my taste. I had asked around and apparently, the “Silver Swan” was the place to go to, if you wanted to treat someone to a special experience. The beautiful garden, discrete staff and tasteful decorations might have been the perfect setting for a rendezvous of young lovers, but for me, it was just a tad too bland and boring. But the food was good, really good. It almost made the lack of entertainment worth it and sitting outside, underneath perfectly trimmed tress in the warm sunlight, the faint song of rushing water in my ears, while the tantalising scents of herbs and fruits wafted around me, made me forget my grievances. The bottle of wine, I had ordered, had helped as well.

To fit in, we had gone shopping in the morning and I wasn’t in my usual dress but human garbs, which kept my attire within the bounds of decency and I had to admit, the flowing cloth felt much more comfortable on my skin, than the leafs I was used to. I had even disguised my horns and fangs and turned my eyes a natural shade of brown. My granddaughter was dressed equally modestly, her green hair hidden underneath a summer hat, and we had managed to avoid any unwanted attention, up until now. The waiters treated us respectfully, without the curios sideway glances I had already gotten used to and even on the streets, we hadn’t commanded more than the usual stares, reserved for pretty girls.

The “Silver Swan” was a veritable manor, sitting on top one of the hills, surrounded by a wall with a wrought iron gate, just outside the inner city, between the mansions, the Captains’ lived in themselves. Around the half timbered house, artificial streams ran in the shadows of old tress, the tables placed close to small ponds beneath the lush greenery. Incense braziers kept the insects away, while a few tame, well groomed swans pranced over the lawn, begging for treats, from time to time. We had chosen seats under an ancient oak, its trunk easily wider than I was tall.

Over three courses, we had talked about gods and destiny, hopes and dreams and now, we had finally arrived on the topic, Morgan had been fretting about, ever since I had come to know her. Her magic, her transformation and Cassandra’s promise to help her reclaim what was hers.

“Usually it is,” I finally replied, after I couldn’t very well pretend to be chewing anymore. “I’m not an expert on mortal society, but there are magical bloodlines who produce a mundane heir, once in a while. It wouldn’t happen, if it was possible to simply turn someone into a mage, would it? Even among our own race, I’ve never heard of anyone capable of igniting the spark, unless it was already there to begin with. But I fear you’re still underestimating our friends, even after everything I’ve already told you.” She meticulously dissected another pastry before she met my gaze evenly.

“Maybe, but it seems like… a fairytale,” she chuckled softly at her own joke. “Otherworldly beings who just so happen to have befriended my grandmother, a few days before I’m cast out? Sometimes, I feel like I’m dreaming… it’s a dreadful thought, imagining that I’m going to wake up any minute now, back in my cell in the Silent Glade, with nothing but the purge to look forward to. I… I still remember what Fladriff… Auguros told us. My mother… can you tell me who she was, before she was twisted into the cold hearted queen, I’ve come to know her as?”

“I’m not sure. We all carry bits of kindness and cruelty, of compassion and depravity within us, from the very moment we’re born. Your mother… my daughter, after I disappeared, she had to become strong, just like her brothers. You can’t blame them for choosing the easiest way.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are many forms of strength, but only those that are recognised by our peers make us capable of ruling. Loyalty, warmth, kindness… most would mistake them for weakness, especially in a ruler. Gwen, she chose to show the world a face, everyone would fear and respect. She chose to guide her people with an iron fist to make sure she’d never be challenged. She did what she had to… not too long ago, I would have admired her for it, applauded her for the power she represents. But after having lived in… a fairytale, after having lived with people, who value compassion over principles… I’m not so sure, anymore. To answer your question, I think you will, one day, meet the person, the girl, I raised, provided she gets the chance to leave her burdens behind and then, you might come to realise, that the cold hearted queen you met, is, but a facet of a being worthy of your… trust. Gods, I sound like a fortune cookie.”

“Maybe, but it actually helps. Ever since my magic was taken from me, ever since I became human, I’ve been… confused. Things that seemed so simple, black and white, are much more complex and difficult. I… I can’t hate her, I want to, I really do, but I just can’t and it’s much easier to believe, we might find a way in the future, than to accept, that I’m simply a delusional idiot.”

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“I’m not sure, your punishment is causing this particular change. You might simply be… growing. At least, that’s what I hope. Otherwise, I’m well on my way of turning into a human, too.”

“Do you think it’s them? The angels? Are they changing us?”

“I seriously hope so. The people you care for should always change who you are. Have you never wondered, why I’ve not immediately returned home, after I was set free?”

“Of course I have, but then again… you don’t plan on returning, at all, do you?” I shrugged.

“Not sure I’ll have much of a choice. If there’s a war brewing between the elves and my people, I won’t be able to stand by idly. But I’m not going to stay and it’s not for the reasons you might suspect. Yes, I’m still hoping I might get the angels to take me to bed, one day,” she pulled a face at that, but I wasn’t going to pretend, only to cater to her strange, new sensibilities, “and I’ve never experienced more fascinating days, than the ones I’ve spent around them, but for the most part, I’ve come to realise, that I prefer the world they live in, to the one I left behind. There’s a charm, an allure, to their behaviour. They know, they’re powerful, they don’t have to care for the opinions of others. They don’t have to consider how they might be perceived, only if they can live with their own choices… whether it be dragons or vampires, humans or fey, we usually care too much about what we are. They don’t, they simply care about what we do.”

“Aren’t you glossing over the risks, right now? Look at us, in the middle of a hidden war, in a city of cutthroats and slaves. It’s us, who have to pay for them, doing whatever they please.”

“You’re right, but nobody is forcing you to stay. I’d hate to see you go, but I also don’t think you’re going to. All of us… the dragoness, you, even Aurelia, we all have our own reasons to stay close to them. They’re rational, at first. For me, it was the promise of safety, for Viyara, it was the prospect of a family… but look at us, now. Viyara has been found by her grandfather, someone bound to her by blood. She wouldn’t ever be alone, again, but yet, she isn’t going anywhere. I’d be much safer, if I were to stay away from the trouble we’re headed for, and yet, I’ll stick around. If you were to rekindle your magic today, I’d still be willing to bet, you’d be around, tomorrow.”

“I might,” she admitted hesitantly. “But I’m not sure, if it’s simply because I’ve got nowhere to go, or because you’re right.”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we. You asked me if they can help you regain your power. I’m sure they can, it might take a while, but sooner or later, they will. When that day comes, we’ll have our answer. Until then, I’d focus less on what might or might not be and more on the present. Are you… I’ve never dared ask, but I’d really like to now, how you’re feeling, now, that you’ve had a few days to get used to your new life.”

“I… better than I’d have thought. I’ve got hope, which is unbelievably precious and I’ve got you… and maybe a few new friends. That’s actually more than I could call my own, back home. It’s… hard. Knowing what I’ve lost… when I get up in the morning, I still try to summon my magic to conjure hot water, when I’m getting dressed, I still try to use magic to change my clothes. It hurts, every time it doesn’t work. And then, there are the nightmares. When I close my eyes, I see him, again, his face distorted with pain, while my uncle carves chains out of his entrails to bind me. When I’m lucky, I wake up in a cold sweat and if I’m not, I have to endure the purge again, every night. Knowing he betrayed me… makes it so much worse. I don’t think I’ll find true peace, until I’ve faced the elves, as well as my family. A festering wound needs to be torn open and cleansed, before it can heal. But I think I will heal, eventually. I’m going to guard my heart more carefully in the future, though, this much is certain. I’m never again going to fall for a pretty smile and a few whispered promises.”

“Don’t be too sure. I’m definitely not going to advise you on love and relationships, but I wouldn’t discard the idea, entirely. You won’t have to worry about being betrayed, though. Trust me, I’ll make sure it won’t happen again. That’s the least I can do.”

“Why? You don’t owe me anything, you don’t even know me. I still remember how I felt about family ties, when I was still fey. They didn’t matter much, and I’m willing to bet, they don’t to you. Why are you so unbelievably nice to a stranger?” I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I called a waiter over and ordered another bottle of wine. Only when he had vanished behind the tress, on his way to the house, did I reply:

“Guilt, hope… no… that’s not it. I simply want to and… you know what kept me alive, all those years in my prison, when I had already accepted my fate? The thought of my children, the memories of… family. I don’t think we, the fey, don’t value familial ties, we just don’t know what they are worth, until it is too late. In that regard, we aren’t too different from humans, are we? We can only value what we’ve lost… the ordeals you and I went through, they changed us, they opened our eyes. You want to know, why I go out of my way to help you? Because I find just as much joy in your happiness, as I do in my own. It’s not due to the blood that’s running through your veins, either. It’s because… it’s because I want to meet the person, buried underneath all the anguish and pain, the person I know will do better than me and my children, if given the chance.”

She remained silent, carefully keeping her head lowered, apparently engrossed in the last succulent bites on her plate, but I still saw the wet sheen in her eyes. By all the gods, deflecting had been so much easier than actually trying to face who I was and how I was changing. I truly hoped it’d be worth it, in the end, but for now, I simply felt like crying, too, even though I didn’t understand why. No wonder mortals had so much trouble going through life. When everything became personal, there was no escaping sorrow, wherever one tried to run.

Morgan’s voice was trembling when she finally said: “the person I am, was born from pain and anguish. I don’t know, if there even is something left, beneath the scars.” My first impulse was to laugh it off and point out, that scars needed skin and a beating heart to even exist, but instead, I gently took her hand and squeezed it lightly.

“I guess we’ll find out, together,” I whispered chokingly, fighting back another urge to shed useless tears. “I believe there is. Look at us… I don’t think I’ve ever cried, before today and now… if even a broken, old husk of a fey can find her way back to life, I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.” She sniffled but didn’t remove her hand form my grasp, instead, she tightened her fingers around mine, pulling my hand to her face.

“Thank you. I just wish… everything would have been so much easier, if you hadn’t left us.”

“No… I don’t think it would have been. As much as I hate Auguros for what he has done to me… to us, what we are now is largely of his doing. I don’t think you would even recognise the queen, I once was. You think your mother is cruel? I was so much worse. Oh don’t get me wrong, I did care for my people, as a whole, but just like her, I wouldn’t have hesitated to sacrifice anyone to further my own goals. Auguros told us, he did it all to turn my children into the leaders they are now. Sometimes I wonder, if that’s the truth. No,” I hastily explained when she tensed up, “I don’t mean to say he has another goal… I’m just not so sure if it’s about my children, or…”

“Us,” she finished my sentence, understanding dawning in her eyes. “But why… you don’t even want to go back and I’m a nobody, no fey would ever follow me. I’m a traitor to our people.”

“Don’t say that,” I hissed. “You don’t have to repeat their lies. You made a mistake, several, if we’re honest, but it takes much more to become a traitor to a people. As for your question… what do you think? What could we possibly have, that others don’t?” She thought for a while, long enough for a stately woman to approach our table, a fresh bottle of wine in her hands. Before she reached us, Morgan mumbled:

“You are and I might become close to the very beings, Gaya herself fears. If the immortals are truly coming, the ones already here, whether responsible for the war or not, are our best chance at survival. Someone has to make sure, they’re fighting for us and not against their siblings.”