"...Little is known of The Thicket, scholars have oft thought it was the work of the Elder Fae before they entered The Great Sleep, but the timing of events was lost after The Great Severing."

- Valora Ryder, from her book "The Great Severing: Human Agency".

----------------------------------------

Darcyra Blackmyre raced through the forest near her home, laughter spilling out from her chest as she pushed the young, grey mare she’d named Briar harder down the sheltered path. Light sun dappled through the trees as she moved, her light wool cloak whipping out behind her. The cool wind of the day smelled like late spring and freedom as it ripped down the hood of her cloak, letting her braided strawberry blonde hair free behind her. It whipped against the wind, and another cry of laughter bubbled up from her chest.

Darcie had always been restless. Her parents always had designs that she would marry and stay near their home, but freshly sixteen all she could think of was the possibility of more. When they had offered her a morning to herself away from the confines of the Orchard, she had leapt at the opportunity to ride.

She was so close to being allowed to make her own choices. She could taste the excitement in the air, and never again would she have to eat another apple. The morning was electric with something she couldn’t quite grasp, as if the very bones of the world were calling to her. Darcie would be one of those adventurers who came to the town market. She would traverse the north of the continent of Falora. She would return with the secrets of The Other, and kill faerie monsters.

She lightly tapped the sides of Briar who never needed any encouragement to really continue. The trees were blurring around the edges of her vision, as she passed into darker, thicker wood. She could smell the pine resin, and almost taste its acridity on her tongue as she pulled a breath into her mouth.

Darcie found herself slowing and the blurred world began to come back into focus. Really it was Briar who had slowed from a gallop, to a canter, to a walk without any instruction from her rider. Plodding faithfully forwards, no matter how hard Darcie tried to press her on. This was the furthest she’d ever managed to go into the forest. She realised, with a sort of sinking horror, that she had no real idea where she was. The path through the forest had started to wind in a way which was unknown to her, the landmarks which would guide her home seemed to have disappeared.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she found her hands tightening reflexively on the reins, so this was where It was. She wasn’t allowed to come to The Thicket, her parents had made her swear since she had been old enough to speak that she would never wander too far into the forest, she would never become reckless and lose sight of her way home but here she was. The trees had started to bend inwards, and the sun seemed to be struggling to break through the heavy blanket of the canopy.

The Thicket was the place where the magic from The Other started to leak into Indrus. It was where humans would be lost for days or weeks, sometimes even for years. It was where they died, or were killed, or stolen by the Fae who resided to the North.

Darcie began to pull tightly on the reins, willing desperately for Briar to stop as fear bubbled in her chest as the path began to disappear underneath twisting blackberry thorns, their sharp edges beginning to snap at her mare’s pristine, white legs. Darcie began to pull her body in tighter, suddenly aware of their height beginning to grow. The slippers which were tied loosely to her feet in her haste to leave started to slip in the stirrups.

The thorns, she realised with distress, had started to slice at Briar’s legs leaving trails of ruby red blood. Fear and nausea swept her, she could feel the bile rising in her throat as she began to struggle, pulling the reins harder and sharper each time. She felt the edges of her green dress begin to catch on the thorns, the fabric tearing as the knife-like thorns sliced through the light linen.

A branch from the closing canopy seemed to have reached out to snag on her braid, as she felt herself almost cry out in panic, she turned to find not a branch but the hand of a creature with pallid, grey skin and eyes like pools of black ink gripping her braid. It's almost naked body was inhumanly thin, its rib cage was much wider than a normal human's like it was stuffed with more organs than it should have been. Long bark, like fingers wrapped around Darcie’s braid tight. Its mouth was held in a tight, lipless line and the space where its nose should have been was smooth and little more than two slits that moved as it sniffed the air.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

When it’s mouth finally smiled, rows of sharp, rotten teeth. The greasy, vine like hair seemed to move almost as if by itself as it leaned forward.

Its arm snapped back, ripping Darcie from her saddle and onto the thorny floor, she found herself screaming and thrashing wildly as the creature dragged her through thorns. She was like the hare her father caught. Like the rabbit her mother would cook. The bile in her throat coughed forward from her mouth as she spat away from herself. Clothing and hair catching as it began to curl its other hand around her arm, wrenching her up in front of its impossible eight feet of height.

“Dar-Seer-Ah,” Its voice sounded as if lightning itself had grown a persona, her name was unnatural to its tongue. It drew her towards it, pressing its clammy forehead to hers for a long moment, breathing as if trying to match the pace of her heartbeat.

“When I drop you,” It said in a voice like her fathers, drawing back from her, “You will run for your life, and you will only return when the time calls for it.”

Darcie, mouth trembling, found herself nodding, searching for her father’s face in the creature's ink-black eyes. It was dangerous to say yes to the fae.

It was dangerous to say no.

The creature whirled, Darcie still held by one arm stumbling as she was thrown firmly to the underbrush below.

“Then run, hare, the hunt is on,” It cried out. Briar, startled suddenly as if awoken, tore away further into the brush behind her as the creature pulled a laugh from deep within its chest.

Darcie wasted no time in running, scrambling until breathing felt like glass, as she raced through the unfamiliar forest. Branches snapping under her bare feet, she could feel her own warm blood mixing with atrocious mud as she tried desperately to remain upright.

She didn’t see the thick, outstretched branch, human eyes searching for safety as she careened into it. She felt the wind leave her body, knocking her heavily to the ground into the thick patch of thorns she’d been so concerned to avoid.

The bramble tore at her skin, slicing through the tanned, delicate flesh of her arms and calves as she cried out in frustration. The pretty white flowers just blooming on the plant were bruised and stained with blood now. It would find her, she could hear the creature’s teeth snapping in the forest somewhere behind her. This was life or death, and she would rather that her entire body was ripped to pieces as long as it meant she could escape.

So she tore herself free, with a wild sob as she began to run again. Her thighs ached, her chest burned. Her pace uneven, it was only a matter of time before her legs gave out. Adrenaline would only carry her so far.

It would catch her, she knew it would catch her. The way it had caught them all before her and the way it would catch more after her but if she could just reach the edge of the woods, find the end of hedgerow, or a gap somewhere maybe she would be free. The scream forced its way from her throat, defiant and aching.

In that moment, she felt her chest rip open as a power so foreign surged through her body. A wild force of magick so strong, her ribs almost cracked with the force of it as the white lightning ripped from her hands, blasting through wood with great force.

Then it happened again, her body lifting from the ground as a power so forceful, and so new blasted from her chest. It felt as if her entire body was going to become ash as the canopy burst free above her. Her body slack, Darcie knew in the ringing in her ears that this was all from her. It was all for her. As a traitorous void of power opened in her stomach like a hunger, a chasm.

She could see it, the monster she could become. Could hear the whisper of arcanum, see the strands of power in the air around her. Time began to move as if she was suspended.

Then her vision was white.

Then there was nothing.

*

When her parents found her, the sun was beginning to set. She had collapsed by the gate to the Orchard, her dress torn and covered in her own blood. Her legs were ribboned by cuts, slicing through the freckles on her tanned skin, her shoes lost somewhere in a struggle her family did not see.

It was her mother who saw the mark of the Beldam first, the burned, white scar shaped like a bursting star in the centre of her daughter’s chest, and screamed to the gods for mercy.