It happened too fast for me to react. A keen war cry that echoed into the night, a speedy shadow that leapt past me, the sounds of thwacks and thuds that followed in rapid succession, jolting me from my stupor.

I wrapped an arm around the little boy and hauled him behind me. If it hadn't been for the fact that there was a golem kneeling before me, I would've laughed. Sky - bless the sweet soul - was heaving, wide-eyed, a look of aggression that was strange to see on a face that was usually so gentle. He was gripping a wooden stick with both hands, a brittle weapon that was already splintering to pieces.

"Sky," I scolded in a hushed whisper. I grabbed both wrists in one hand and held them down.

I looked back at the golem. It hadn't moved from its position, the key sparkling innocently in the moonlight.

This was impossible. There were six - only six - who were approached by the golems and not a single one in history had ever been a human. Si, mostly. A handful of pixies and sprites. Maybe an imp here and there.

Sky wriggled a hand free and threw his stick at the golem. It rebounded off of its head, clattering to the ground. I snatched his arm back and forced him to sit.

For all the life it had just a moment ago, it now lay still, as if it had been robbed of its newfound existence. The coals that made up the bulk of its body had started to cool and I watched. I waited.

Was it sentient? Was it aware?

I turned to Sky and grabbed his arms to keep him still. I winced at the sharp pain that shot up to my shoulder but this was important. I needed him to know how important this was.

"You can't tell anybody about this," I said. He had started to open his mouth. To protest, to wonder, to disagree? I cupped his face, making sure his eyes could see mine - the panic that brewed, the alarm that ran rampant. "Sky. You can not tell anybody about this."

His mouth shut with an audible click and he nodded.

"And no hitting the golem," I added sternly. I didn't know much about them but I was not going to risk Sky calling down the wrath of the Elder Tree for no other reason than his child-like ignorance.

He glared at it, scowling.

I exhaled sharply before turning my attention to the overbearing mass, now black, now cold. I stood, brushing the sand from my skirts as I approached. I circled the figure, Sky trailing close behind me.

I bent down to study the key. It didn't look important. It was a small thing about the size of my thumb, dented in some places and smudged in others. In fact, if I hadn't seen the golem pluck it out of its own mouth, I would have never known it was the signifier of the Elder Tree's candidate.

I reached out, hovering but just shy of touching. Whatever this meant, it could only spell trouble for the likes of me. I hurriedly withdrew my hand and backed away.

Let someone else take the key. Let them revel in that honor. Let them shoulder that burden.

I ushered Sky ahead of me, glancing back one more. It was a mere shadow surrounded by broken stone and ash, unyielding, unmoving, and yet, I could've sworn I felt the ghost of its gaze boring into me.

As if to say there was no one else.

As if to say there was only me.

~

The Master was... broody.

Which was strange because the Master was never broody. Contemplative sometimes. Cruel at others. Manipulative, mercurial, jovial.

Broody was new and it was because of me.

He'd been staring at the golem since dawn, arms clasped behind his back, hair intricately braided into a high bun. He was still wearing his long, silken robes - a remarkable display of gold and various whites marked with a complex embroidery of intertwining leaves and branches that spanned the length of his back. He was still. The only part of his body that moved were his eyes, switching between the copper key, the haphazard display of the fire pits, and the messenger of the Elder Tree.

I'd been standing behind him for just as long, distracted by the turn of events last night. I turned the memory in my head over and over again, each run-through churning out more questions than answers.

"Where were you?"

My heartbeat stuttered at the sudden question. "I don't know."

He cocked his head, the smallest movement to the left.

"I don't know where I was because I don't know when this happened," I clarified. I measured the pace of my answer, the pitch of my voice.

Silence.

Then, "Your heart is beating so fast. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were lying." He turned to face me but my eyes were downcast. I schooled my features into a blank expression as he bent at the waist, touching his temple to mine. "But you're not, are you? You know how I feel about dishonesty."

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The memory of being backhanded flitted through my mind.

I detest liars.

He'd said that, hadn't he?

"I'm human." It was a short and simple answer. A truth to mask the lie.

I yelped as he plucked my wrist from my side. I contorted awkwardly at the pain as he stood to his full height, bringing it up for scrutinization. "As you're so prone to remind me," he murmured. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you might know who the recipient of this key is?"

"Maybe it's for you," I grit out.

He released me, resuming his initial position in front of the golem. "I assume you know why it's important that the final candidate accept this key." He touched the palm of the golem lightly, trailing a neat circle around it. "Or rather, why no one other than the candidate is allowed to accept this key."

Too fast for my eyes to follow, he snatched the key into his fist. I wasn't sure what to make of this as he stood there, one arm behind his back, the other suspended.

Then, I saw the smoke. Small wisps at first that seeped out from the cracks between his fingers. I could hear a faint sizzling that grew louder as the gray fumes wrapped his hand in a thick cloud.

He let out a sharp exhale, dropping the key back to its place. His open palm displayed a gruesome picture of blistering skin and burnt flesh. He flashed me a radiant smile, at odds with the wound he'd just sustained. "I suppose the key isn't for me after all."

I'd hoped that I could be replaced. That some other Fae - of all Fae's, perhaps the Commander himself - could take my place. I'd prayed that I'd been mistaken. That the Elder Tree would appropriate someone else who was not weak, fragile, and oh so obviously human as the outlier that shouldn't have even been chosen in the first place.

No one had ever heard of a seventh candidate, much less a human one, and I'll be damned if I let it be me.

He held out his hand - a silent command - and I stepped forward, unwrapping the cotton from my wrist, careful not to jostle the joint. With one end anchored between my teeth, I wrapped the Master's injury with care, knotting it with a series of loops and holes and for the briefest of moments, I had the urge to bite his finger off.

It'd be quick, dirty, bloody, but it would be worth the satisfaction of seeing his shock.

He grabbed my throat, his thumb digging into the spot where my pulse beat. "Your heart is singing. What I'd give," he sighed, eyes still fixed on the key, "to have just the smallest peek into your mind. What I'd do," he laughed, releasing my neck before shaking his head. He waved me away dismissively. "Aeon will be in my study. Fetch him."

I left, holding my wrist in a poor attempt to stabilize it.

Not his finger. His hand. I'd tear it off like a rabid dog and bask in the euphoria of inflicting his pain.

~

The study was neat and ordered, reflective of the Master's preference for all things in his life. On one side of the room was a bookshelf, spanning the entire wall from floor to ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the balcony on one end of the study, giving it the illusion of a warm and inviting glow.

The centerpiece was a long table, thick and sturdy, as if the trunk of a great beech tree had fallen right there and the room had been built around it. There were several empty chairs that surrounded it save for one. It was a high back on the far end closest to the balcony and in it sat Aeon, the perfect picture of peace.

His legs were crossed and his eyes were closed. He was slouched against the seat, head held up by his fist, arm propped up by the armrest. I advanced - softly, delicately. It wasn't often that I could study a Fae with the kind of scrutiny that would usually get me in trouble.

The breeze tickled his bangs. In the sunlight, it took on the colors of autumn, streaks of bronze and auburn and rust that I hadn't been able to catch that night at the gazebo. He had a face similar to the Master's - high-born, blue-blooded - with one glaring exception. Maybe it was how he looked when he relaxed or it could have been the way the light fell on his face. He looked light- no. He looked carefree. Like he was exactly where he needed to be with not a worry marring his brow or regret lingering in his forehead.

The envy was overwhelming. So much so that it made my breath catch at the weight of it. Would there ever be a moment when I'd know what that was like?

Perhaps, in death.

Something caught my eye - the twine. It was strange to see the necklace. It looked out of place on him, non-descript and rough. It was tucked into his shirt though, at this angle, it was impossible not to see what it hung.

A copper key.

I instinctually reached out but was caught by a hand that was definitely not my own. I moved back but was tugged forward so that I was face to face with dark eyes of an endless midnight.

"Careful," he warned. "It's hot."

"Alvar needs you at the fire pits," I blurted.

Aeon's grip was firm, though not as harsh as I expected. He was silent, all traces of sleep gone. He released me and I stumbled away, hitting the corner of the table. I grunted, wincing more at the bruise that would form tomorrow than the pain.

His eyes followed my movements, a slow smile spreading onto his face. "Do you always call him by his name?"

"I'm not allowed to call him anything else," I answered.

He leaned forward, curious. "Oh? Why is that?"

Flashes of a scattered memory whipped through my mind - ash that fluttered like snow, the acrid smell of burnt flesh, an outstretched hand, his reassuring smile. I blinked. "Isn't he your friend?"

If I hadn't been looking closely, I would've missed it. The smallest twitch of his nose - the slightest indication of his displeasure. "He's more of a," he trailed off, moving to stand. He snapped his fingers in enlightenment. "Ah! An idol. I wouldn't say Alvar has any friends. More like an inner circle."

Aren't we all friends here?

I suppose a friend wouldn't be able to coerce peace the way he had that night.

"He's near the golem," I said by way of farewell. After all, I wasn't needed for whatever conversation he was summoned for.

I turned and bumped into his chest. I felt irritation fizzle in my chest at the powers of the Fae. If it wasn't something completely detrimental to my health then it was something utterly inconvenient.

Their strength, their speed, their overall primacy. My body bore the brunt of many reminders.

"Won't you guide me?"

I could hear the laughter in his voice.

"Is that a request or is that a command?" I asked. I stared at his chest - the copper key. It looked different from mine. The teeth were different, three instead of two, ascending as if it were a staircase to its head. It was just as complex, though unique in its pattern.

"Is there a difference? Aren't you going to take me no matter how I answer?"

I looked up then, immediately drawn into those yawning chasms. It was more than the questions that made me look. It was the way he'd said it - a genuine interest, an unveiled curiosity. It lacked any impatience, or threat, or falsity.

"It matters."

He pondered the question, his eyes tuning out of focus and I saw his thoughts flutter like birds through those windows, the windows to his soul.

"A request," he finally answered, watching me closely.

And my frustration disappeared, replaced with something that felt like the strangled cry of a newborn when it takes its first breath - a gasp of life, a lungful of relief.

Windows of starless night, but not as bottomless a pit as I believed them to be.