~Amorella~

I am no hero.

Beyond Fog Forest, a labyrinth lies tucked inside the Veil- the barrier between our world and that of the Fae. Standing at the perimeter of the emerald evergreens at dawn, watching the namesake mist weave between the spiring trunks like the icy claws of death that surely awaited me within, I did not feel like a hero.

Deeper in the forest now, the Veil rises before me. A blanket of swirling periwinkle mist separates me from the gods and monsters in the magical realm- one of three. And it is my solemn duty to venture within, thanks to Fawn’s poor choices the previous night.

I told her- a thousand times, I told her- do not enter the forest at night.

Fog Forest perches at the edge of our isolated hamlet, Rosebrooke, a forgotten village on the edge of the map, often neglected by the cartographers in the greater cities. The good people of Rosebrooke are simple, and they adhere to the rules: do not follow the singing; do not step in the faerie rings; and do not, ever, under any circumstances, enter Fog Forest after dark. 

Most villagers avoid the forest totally, if possible. The hunters and trappers prefer to make the miles’ long trek to Westforth Wood rather than step foot in Fog Forest.  Even if they had the gall to do what I’d done this morning, there was little here to find. A preternatural stillness saturates the forest, the deer population thinned to absence years ago. Meat is scarce: that is something I understand.

Still- to take a whole human girl. Not even the Fae are known to do that. I cannot imagine what sort of monster clutches my sister in its wicked talons, and I had no means of defeating it even if I were to find it, but I still have to try.

With a shaking breath, I step forward.

“Amorella!”

The voice behind me stops me before my toes pass the swirling edge of the Veil. I freeze and, turning sharply, my onyx eyes land on Cullen.

His blonde curls are in disarray, freckled face aghast, as he sprints to close the distance between us. He stops next to me and his hands clutch his knees as he rapidly inhales and exhales, sweat pooling along his brow despite the crisp autumn morning.

“Don’t,” he gasps, a hoarse whine behind his voice. “Please. Don’t.”

I falter, my mouth opening and closing as words escape me. Cullen- my oldest friend, my favorite person besides Fawn, and all I have left now that she’s gone. Winter took our father two years ago, childbirth took our mother nineteen years ago. Cullen, a lost fourth son among a family of eight, basically lived with us, relishing in the way we gave him relevance and attention that he lacked at home. After the past twenty-four years together, our birthdays only weeks apart, I cannot imagine life without him.

But there are worse things than losing him.

“It’s Fawn,” I say, and my voice emerges as only a desperate whisper. I clear my throat, my brows drawing in, but I’m wary of making noise here. “I can’t just leave her to the Fae.”

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Cullen, still panting, straightens, and his large, square hands find my shoulders. His sky-blue gaze bores into me but can’t penetrate the guard I wear over my spirit like a shield.

“Please,” he repeats, but I shake my head. “Ams, you can’t do this. We’ve already lost her. You know what the Fae do to human girls.”

“I don’t,” I protest, a seed of anger brewing in my chest. “I don’t know what they do to them. I only know the stories, same as you. But I know what they could do, and I know they make deals. I-” My voice cracks, thick with despair. “I can’t just leave her. You know she’d turn the world upside down if it were me in there.”

He leans toward me, pressing his damp forehead to mine, so close I can smell the salt lining his skin. “No human has ever come back from the Veil, and, gods be damned, I don’t think you’ll be the first.”

My chest thumps uncomfortably, my heart racing. A week ago, a day ago, this proximity to Cullen would have convinced me to sprout wings if he wanted- but today, he has no power to change my course.

“I still have to try,” I whisper.

His eyes find mine, and he presses a kiss to my lips.

I’ve never been kissed. It's not what I thought it would be. His full pink lips taste like salt and damp morning air, not like passion or fire like in the books I’ve read. His hands stay on my shoulders, not tracing my waist or clutching my neck or running through my hair. The kiss is chaste, all too brief, and what would have once meant everything now means nothing. I don't even remember to close my eyes until he's pulled away.

His eyes dart across mine, searching my gaze for something we both know isn’t there.

“If you refuse to stay,” he breathes, “Then promise me you’ll come back.”

I place my hand on his chest. “I promise.”

We linger in that position only a heartbeat longer, and then he drops his hands from me, steps back, and says, “Here.”

He rummages through the backpack slung over his shoulders, hastily packed with supplies, likely in case he got stranded out here. He withdraws two apples, a matchbook, and a small knife.

“Take these with you.”

My fingers wrap around the handle of the buckhorn-handle knife, balancing its blade on the fingertips of the opposite hand, its leather scabbard worn and frayed. My eyes find his. “The knife you made with your father?”

“It’s yours now.” He closes my hand around the leather. “May it keep you safe in there.”

Safe. But it won’t. Nothing can. The magical realm is a place of monsters and Fae, all superhuman, all far beyond the killing capabilities of any mortal. There is a reason the gods sealed them away. I look into his eyes, knowing that the promise I made is already broken, knowing what this knife means to him, what even a few meager apples can mean with winter approaching. “Cullen, I can’t- I can’t take these. You need them.”

“Not as much as you do,” he counters, and then presses in another kiss, this time on my forehead. “Please try to come back, Amorella.” He meets my gaze one last time. “I always wanted it to be us, once Fawn found her way. I still want that.”

My hand finds his cheek and, although I’m numb now to the feelings that would have once overwhelmed and excited me in a moment like this, I think back to the girl I was before my sister’s disappearance. I let myself hope there’s a chance of being her again.

“I will,” I lie.

And I turn and step into the Veil.