She gripped the hilt blade she whipped toward the origin of the sound.

It was a man, about as old as she’d been when she got here, as old as she had been trapped as for decades. He was propped against a nearby tree. He was dressed like a royal... almost.

He wore a long burgundy coat that faded to a lovely royal at the bottom with a forked tail. The coat had glistening gold buttons, but they were unnaturally shiny. His chest was bare save for a gold, the same unnatural gold, medallion with a fire emblem. He wore black pants that went down to his mid calf. His feet were bare, but he wore a gem encrusted anklet, each stone was a different color.

A diadem with a moonstone hung low over his brow and disappeared into a mess of curly black hair. His eyes were as bright green as spring grass. They were so bright they made her own grey-green eyes seem dull in comparison. His skin was fair, made even more so by the loss of blood that Corabelle’s eyes found next.

Under him was a thick puddle of blood. His black nail adorned hands clung to his deeply sliced rib cage. Blood oozed down his hand, dripping onto the bloodied grass below him before flowing to the puddle directly under him.

“You know-” A cough broke his sentence. “You shouldn’t waste that nectar. Would you be a dear and bring me a full one?”

She kept her eyes on him as she knelt down and yanked a new lily out of the water and tossed it to him, narrowing her eyes, “You don’t want to drink it.” She warned.

The stranger laughed what would have been a bellowing laugh had it not quickly morphed into groan as he removed one hand from the wound to catch the lily, “What do you take me for? A novice? Of course I don’t want to drink it.”

Flipping the bloom over in his hand he used his teeth to rip off the bottom, where the stem attached to the flower.

He peeled his other hand off his injury and gripped the moss with it, “I do apologize for any foul language I might happen to use.” He flashed a charming, though clearly exhausted, smile.

As the nectar flowed over the bloody mess, he let out a scream and rang through the forest as the skin of the wound bubbled and smoke. Pink skin sprouted up from the gashes, the bleeding stopping and the whole injury healed over. The lily fell abandoned to his side as the scream stopped and he slumped over unconscious.

Corabelle approached him cautiously, still gripping her blade. The sap didn’t heal cuts. She spilled some over the wound in her hands just this morning. No, this wasn’t natural. This was magic. His wounds were gone, all that was left was blood stains and not so much as a scar. She looked at the emblem on his chest the fire design flickered and fitted as though to were as real as those of the Fire Roses.

She didn’t recognize it as the emblem of any of the Houses of Magic near her old home. She didn’t even recognize it from her studies of the Registry of Houses of Magic. Maybe it was a Dead House.

Perhaps this emblem was an heirloom. He might have been a descendant of this house, a solo mage who didn’t belong to a House. Or maybe, simply, new Houses had been formed in her absence.

She had wished she’d had the Spark and could join a House, but she tested with every one nearby and none could find one. She’d been heading to a new kingdom when she’d gotten herself into this mess. All these magical plants and curses and she still couldn’t do anything with them. She knew that she wasn’t a Mage.

But he was. The first and only other human in her grove and he was a Mage. Maybe he could get her out. A flicker of hope she hadn’t felt for decades ignited in her chest. If he were a powerful Mage, he could easily get them out of here. This trap wasn’t meant to keep magic users in, at least she theorized. If it were, she wouldn’t have survived as long as she had. This man could be her ticket out.

Adrenaline coursed through her as she abandoned her basket and lilies and summoned all the strength in her small body to drag him by his arms back to her cottage, rolling him onto her bed. He was a fair bit taller than she and certainly weighed more, but he could have weighed more than a dragon and she’d have to find a way to make sure he woke up comfortable.

She needed him to like her. Many Mages saw those without magic as lesser beings. She had to fight to get the Houses to test her and she hated their knowing smirks as they threw her out, telling her she was just a plain little peasant who should go back to shoveling manure.

While she hated those Mages, she’d do everything in her power to get this one to adore her. She hurried down into her cellar, snatching an armful of berries. She had no idea when he’d wake up and she’d like to have a snack ready for him when he did.

She grabbed her pan and snatched the lily of honey she had on her shelf from the time she’d managed to find and subdue a beehive. It wasn’t an easy feat and she needed a particularly smoky day to even begin the attempt.

The honey was precious. She saved it for special occasions. She’d indulge in a taste every year around the time of when her birthday would be or sometimes when she was feeling particularly down. This was a more special occasion than she could have ever hoped to have.

She poured the honey into her pot along with the berries and began cooking them. She poured in water and mixed in some wild oats that she had saved. This was a better meal than she would have ever made for herself but it was worth it. If she could get him to show a bit of kindness and take her with him, she might finally be able to get home to her family.

The sentiment turned bitter sweet as it dawned on her: Her family might not even be alive. Her sister would be older than her grandmother had been, her parents… there was no way they could have lived this long.

She stirred the pot, careful not to let her oncoming tears salt the wild berry stew.

She swiped the tears away as she heard a light rustling and turned to see the Mage sitting up on her bed, looking around her home.

“What an adorable little cottage.” He commented. “You know, that was actually a good idea using the Wardwood bark the way you did, I would bet that shields you from the discharge from my experiments. You are a clever little thing to have made this from nothing.” He gave her a grin as he stood up, casually brushing flakes of dried blood from himself. “And a fearless one at that. I’m glad to see you didn’t feel the need to get dressed on my account.” He smirked, scanning her body.

She had forgotten she wasn’t wearing anything. She hadn’t needed to be dressed in the summer for years. She snatched a large leaf from her floor and covered herself with it, “Your experiments cause the storms? You are from nearby?” Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but feel hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as deep into this maze as she thought. With any luck she could be out today.

His face showed an air of disappointment as she held the leaf to her body. While his look hadn’t seemed malicious or perverted, it was curious; as though she were some new species worth studying. None the less he answered her question, “This is my forest, my dear. My spell, my maze. It keeps everything that gets trapped young and gives their potential years to me for my time experiments. It's a bit of a shame when humans manage to get ensnared on the outer edges. It makes disposal so much more disappointing. I’m not as fond of human flesh as I am of animals. It’s a bit gamey for my taste.”

Hairs pricked up on the back of her neck, her heart tensed. She dropped her spoon as she clutched the leaf closer to herself for a moment. Her eyes searched for her blade, but she had abandoned it next to the lake in her haste to bring him inside. Her eyes quickly flitted around the room. The door. The door was accessible. Run.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She sprinted out the door, discarding her leaf. She knew her grove like the back of her hand. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere except the maze.

“Honestly, my dear.” She heard him call. “This is a bit of an overreaction. All I wanted was to talk!” She didn’t want to stick around to find if that was true. He was no Mage. Mages didn’t eat people nor have anywhere near the power necessary to create a maze like this. He was a magical conduit to their realm from the magical one, a Faedemon. A creature created by the most powerful Fae to be a puppet in their plane of existence. He had no choice but to work for the worst creatures on any plane of existence. They may have been small in numbers, but they were never weak.

For a Faedemon, Fae orders could not be disobeyed and Fae orders were usually those of death and ruin. For centuries they’d been trying to overpower humans, but they were simply outnumbered. They couldn’t create enough Faedemons to be able to win the war and they couldn’t reach the human realm to fight themselves. If they could, the war would be swift and brutal.

As far as Corabelle had known, there weren’t any Faedemons in any of the nearby kingdoms. At least there weren’t when she’d left home. Clearly things had changed.

She began dashing through the maze as wind from the just passed storm, kicked up frayed strands of her long blond hair that was coming undone from the long braid she kept it in. She tried her best to recall where she went wrong all those years ago, but the maze seemed to be always changing.

Suddenly, she was consumed by a glistening fog and found herself standing in front of her home, face to face with the Faedemon.

He looked ever so slightly perturbed as he waved his hand and roots of the nearby tree ensnared Corabelle, coiling firmly around her body, “I said that I just wanted to talk.” He tapped his foot, arms crossed in front of his chest as if dealing with an unruly child. “I’ve been observing this grove for years from my home in the center of this maze. Somehow I’d never been able to catch a glimpse of you. One year the house appeared,” He made a motion with his hands, like a little ‘poof’. “Today, curiosity finally got the best of me. I may have miscalculated my landing a bit. I rarely stray so far from the castle. While my roses are a useful little security fence, I’m afraid not even I am immune to them.”

He swiped away the last few flakes of dried blood that still clung to his body and coat, “Besides, I never did get to thank you for handing me the lily. I would be dead if not for you, so thank you.” He gave her what seemed to be a genuine, thankful smile and bow of his head.

She resisted the urge to say out loud how much she wished she hadn’t helped him as she tried to work herself free from the vines with no avail, “You’re welcome.” She instead muttered, hoping not to be his next meal.

If he really was thankful, she hoped he’d at least give her a bit more time in her grove. She knew now she didn’t have a chance of getting home, but the best she could hope for was staying here.

He beamed, “That’s better. Those were some nasty thoughts you were thinking. Though I do wish you’d stop struggling. I have no intention of killing you today. What’s your name?”

If he could read her mind, he already knew, so she had no reason not to answer, “Corabelle. What’s yours?” She said shortly, submitting to the tense, false formalities.

He laughed, “That’s a lovely name, Miss Cora, but you must think I'm pretty naive to share my own name.” She had almost forgotten that knowing his Fae-given designation upon his creation was the first step in the ritual to send him back to the Fae. “Though,” he continued. “I suppose I should give you something to call me if there’s any hope of us getting along,” He seemed to think for a moment before settling on, “Zaramir,” He bowed deeply, almost mockingly. “You can call me Zaramir. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cora.”

“Please let me out.” She tugged against the roots, impatiently, tired of his games and sore from the rough roots grating against her skin.

Zaramir stood upright, “Are you going to run away from me again? Because I will just keep bringing you back. Seems like a waste of energy if you ask me.”

She considered it for a moment. He would just bring her back, he could do so easily, and if she had any chance of surviving this, she’d need her energy.

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” The roots fell away and retreated into the earth before she could even reply out loud.

Corabelle quickly covered herself as best she could with her arms .

The Faedemon scoffed, “I’m not quite sure why you feel the need to cover that body of yours. There’s nothing all too wrong with it, but if you’re that ashamed of it.”

With the wave of an indifferent hand, Corabelle was in a stunning gown that looked to be made of a storm itself. The first real clothes she’d worn in ages. It swirled and flashed around her, though it was solid fabric.

He observed the dress with a judgmental eye, “You know, it would look much better if you’d stop being so scared of me. As I was trying to say earlier, if I had any plans of killing you, you would never have seen me. I have no plans of harming you. In fact, seeing this comfortable little life you've created for yourself, I’d like to extend a rare offer to you. I would like you to come with me to my home. You would tend to the household duties I’ve been too preoccupied with my work to take care of, and in exchange I will give you all the food you could ever eat and the finest clothes you could ever hope for. Once my work is done, I’ll send you anywhere you want to go. Does this offer appeal to you?” He leaned nonchalantly against her cobbled home.

“You will send me home? Do you swear?” She eyed him skeptically.

He rolled his eyes, “Of course. I have nothing to gain from lying to you .As I said, I’m not fond of human meat. If you must have a pact, I can put a transportation rune on you that will activate when I finish my work and I am destroyed once I’m no longer useful. Will that satisfy you?” He extended a hand, offering to shake on it.

She pondered it for a moment before extending her hand, knowing he already knew her decision.

“Excellent,” He grinned, snatching her forearm forcefully. A painful searing enveloped where he gripped, but she refrained from crying out, not wanting to give him the pleasure of a reaction.

When he removed his hand, what was left was a matching emblem to his medallion surrounded by an unknown language. He blew air as icy as the coldest winter on the burn and it instantly stopped hurting.

“There you are! And seeing as you won’t need this anymore.” He effortlessly bumped her house with his elbow and it fell to the ground in a painfully loud clatter that sent Neve galloping off into the maze with a shriek.

This house had taken her months when she first was trapped here. All her possessions were in there. Decades of memories, gone. Destroyed in an avalanche of stone.

“Huh. I was hoping for something a bit more dramatic.” He brushed his hands together, removing imaginary dirt. “Anyway, shall we?” He offered her a hand once again.

She stared at the remains of her home and suppressed tears as she took his hand.