Cold air. That’s the first thing I felt. Then suddenly an affront to the senses as noise, smell and light bombarded her! I blinked, looking around to where the spell had taken them. A cave. My head throbbed, and vomit spewed out my mouth onto the hard ground. I dropped to the rock, trying to regain my breath. But in this nausea a deep set feeling tingled, making me feel as light as ever, and a little hungry. I looked to my palms, reddened by the unused blood. Innately I began to try and rub it off. On hearing some flowing water I rushed to a crack in the wall to rid myself of the crimson. Only when my palms where cleared did the gnawing for more blood go away. I was relieved but couldn’t help be sad at its disappearance. My senses died a little bit, returning to normal it was like the world greyed a little. It was not a pleasant experience, I wanted such alertness back. That caused me to shiver. How dare I enjoy the power…? How could I even possibly conceive of it? That blood could have been a fae I once knew. Still… despite it all… there was a quiet call for more. I shook my head and jostled any final dark desires free from it. I took a shallow breath, re-centring myself.

Thatcher! I turned back around and hurried to him. ‘Thatcher!’ I rushed to his unmoving body and held his finger- it was ice cold and a little stiff. ‘Wake up- please!’ He looked terrible. The leather destroyed to show the bloodied gash across his shoulder and chest; his cloak had turned to ashes. There was a black stain on his chest where his heart was, but its spread had stopped. He was now cursed with the black mark over his heart. ‘Please, tell me how to help!’ But there was no reply in the dark cave. His face was deathly pale. He looked… dead. I dropped to my knees. I couldn’t hold the weight of everything. Not alone. I laid down next to him in the quiet. The rock was cold, uncomfortable. I focused on my breathing. Somehow, despite feeling like I had just died, my body kept on. I didn’t know what kept my heart beating but I wished I had any sort of strength it somehow possessed. My mind wandered back to the day before everything fell apart. Could I have done anything different? My biggest regret was not stopping my mother, because maybe if I tried a little harder at making her stay maybe everything could be different. I thought in situations like this I would have crumbled into a sobbing mess but I just felt so hollow. Nothing felt real, it was like a dream. A terrible dream…. What could I possibly even do now? Bury him? Leave him? Would I just wander home? Or stay in the cave in hopes he somehow revives himself? my mind wandered further back, to a few years ago:

‘A princess is strong, always. In the face of danger you must not falter.’ my mother stood over me in the Great Hall, not a single hair was out of place, a long green robe flowing behind her as I walked.

‘I mustn’t falter.’ I echoed while on the princesses’ throne, hands folded elegantly on my silk dress, back straight, head forward.

‘You must always be posed and focused, to have the next step known to you.’

‘I must always be posed and focused.’

‘When the men folk fight the women are the voice of authority. We silence a crowd, not them; they are the ones who shout.’

‘We are the authority.’

‘You are lucky to be born so beautiful and so powerful, those are gifted weapons you’ll wield like a master does a sword.’

But my rule has been nothing like that. I was filthy, starving and terrified the entire time. I was saved by Thatcher more times than I could count as my royal authority seems hollow in such an aggressive world where talking didn’t work.

My mother’s lessons continued in my mind: ‘on the battlefield men die, as queen it is your duty to ensure bloodshed never occurs, to be a diplomat anywhere and everywhere. Speak and convince any beast to follow you, you are unstoppable, that is greater than any steel.’

It all seemed laughable now. Like I could’ve talked my way out of that rat eating me alive… perhaps I shouldn’t have left as I did? I should have tried harder to convince the other Fae Kings…?

‘A queen strives forward.’ my mother said. ‘If you look back you have already lost. Looking back is snapping your own neck.’

But the flames smelt like rose water. My mother’s perfume… and if my mother was… then so was my father... The memories faded and I covered my face with my arms and let the void thud at my eardrums and heart. It felt like until now I was playing some sort of child’s game. This was the reality my parents had tried all their lives to prepare me for, but no one could be prepared for hell.

As my ears adjusted to the void something revealed itself… I turned my head to him… he was breathing. He was alive! I hurried to my feet and rushed to him and hesitantly slapped his cheek. ‘WAKE UP!’ Frustration boiled into tears, ‘wake up! I can’t carry you! I can’t provide for you. I… can’t save you…’ I gently placed my ear over his chest and the black mark that stained it… there was no heartbeat. With a shaky breath I whispered that Gods were resilient and strange, if he was at least still breathing then... He would live… he had to. Smelling salts! I remembered he mentioned it once. But when? I was… eating a fruit, on a rock? Yes! Right before that disaster of a day. I felt my hand edge into my pocket, and retrieved crumbly grains and leaves. There was barely enough to wake me up let alone someone likely in a coma.

Sniff, sniff, sniff…

I sharply turned to the noise… ‘ferna?!’ I narrowed my eyes, it was my gerso! I walked slowly toward it like it would vanish, but once my hand touched its soft fur I couldn’t stop a laugh before embracing the creature. I must have wished for my ferna during the spell. ‘I’m so glad to see you!’ The small thing had withered a little in the wilds, its fur a little wiry and bones showing. But despite it all the saddle remained on its back, of which I jumped on. ‘We’ve got some work to do.’ Kicking its side it galloped out of the cave and deep into the forest.

To me the trees and grass looked the same like any other it was almost strange to be back at the start. The herb couldn’t be so hard to find, it had a strong peppery scent. Revealing the herb and grains to Ferna the creature took a long sniff of my hand, a moment passed then it bolted off! I gripped the reins hard having almost fallen as the wind picked up speed. The sun was beginning to set, casting the flora in a deepening blue as the sun ducked below the horizon. Kicking the gerso it jumped over a muddy puddle, and veered it away from a spiders web. The small thing ran on and on and stopped at a seed-filled plant much taller than the both of them. Patting the gerso on the side it suddenly kicked outwards, flinging me forward. I grabbed the stem and it snapped under my force. Landing with the seed pod in hand I couldn’t break the seal to confirm the seeds were the correct type. With a breath I stomped my heel into it, cracking it just enough for me to wedge my hands through. It was tough but I grabbed a seed or two, and sniffed. It wasn’t as potent as Thatcher’s but it was the correct type. He must have had some preparation or technique to bring out the smell. Picking up the entire thing I trekked back to the gerso. Suddenly my pet began to shake with trepidation but I whistled for it to stay put. Damn- it was another rat. I took a deep breath- then ran for it! I didn’t dare look behind I just bolted for the gerso. Jumping on the saddle I heard snapping teeth and squeals, rat jaws bit as the gerso ran for its life! ‘Don’t panic, don’t panic!’ I uttered to myself, looking around for anything to help. Then it clicked! I steered my gerso to a twitching root, making it jump from its wood. The rat followed but on touching its surface the root snapped around its body. I looked away and focused on the run back like the crow flies, breath ragged and uncatchable as raindrops spat down.

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

Thatcher hadn’t moved in my absence and I rushed over to check- yes. He was still breathing. But no heartbeat. Pouring some seeds out I tried to grind them with my heel, snap them, anything to get the powerful peppery smell. Venturing out into the wood I collected a few twigs and stones to attempt to make a fire, but the wood was too wet. After hours of struggle sleep dawned with wrath and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Ironic how the solution was right in front of me but I couldn’t access it. This time I tied the seed pod to my gerso’s back so it couldn’t eat the supplies. Then listening to the rain, I curled up by Thatcher. ‘Night…’ I whispered as I drifted off. Night I imagined he said back as the silence was too painful.

Warm fur woke me as the gerso was snuggled up beside me. Its rat-like face was certainly a surprise to see. Wasting no time I untied the pod from her saddle and tried to light the sticks to I brought in yesterday. After what felt like an hour sparks flew out of the stones and caught on the wood! Hands sore I put one seed in the fire, and it suddenly exploded! A few grains had burnt me but relief flooded me when the pepper smell was emitted. My gerso woke with a jolt from the strong stench. Good. It was working! The smell hit me and gave me a jolt of energy. Picking up the entire seed pot I hovered it over the flames until the sound like cracking bone hurt my ears. The pod blackened from flame and released a dizzyingly strong smell. I managed to walk it over to Thatcher, swaying a little from its weight, and placed it by his nose. Stepping back to the gerso it couldn’t take the odor and covered its nose with a paw. I stared unblinking at the God, praying it would work. I then took a charcoal twig, drew his symbol against the stone and kneeled beside it. Hands intertwined I prayed…

To the Green Forests and Star Skies

God of Hunt hear me now.

Remember your vow

And rise!

I opened my eye… no change, I tried again.

To the God of Hunt

You stay so still

But you must wake up

We’re running out of time.

I looked back… he hadn’t budged. I drew his symbol two more times in the ashes.

Thatcher, you’re asleep right now.

You may not be able to hear me.

But if you could see what I see,

maybe you should stay asleep.

Your wound runs deep

I’ll look after you

But I haven’t a clue how…

I don’t know how words can save you right now.

Please, just wake up.

Emotion tugged at my gut and finally the tears came in magnitude, wetting the charcoal. Hugging my legs the gerso cuddled next to me, cooing softly, as the smell of pepper made my head swim. Small tears dotted the floor, darkening the stone. Everything I was taught to be a queen felt so useless. Suddenly, coughing erupted from the God. I shot up to my legs. Thatcher gasped for air, eyes bulging and sharp. ‘Th-Thatcher?!’ I hurried to him and pulled the seed pod away from him. He groaned and grabbed his chest, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead. ‘Thatcher can you hear me?’ I stood a little far away as his movements where sharp and quick. A few limps made snapping noises, sharp movements like he was snapping joints in or out of place. He kicked his feet and forced his knees under him. ‘Hunter…?’ I backed away as his groans grew. His form suddenly flickered white. I whistled to my gerso and we sprinted from the cave. The white light expanded and- BOOM! The cave exploded and crumbled in, dust brushed me away into the grass! The gerso hid behind a stone and buried her face into the soil. I looked at the destroyed cave, gasping from adrenaline my mouth went dry.

He strode from the stone like a ship cracking through ice. His starlight form tried to overtake the darkness in his chest, but the void remained strong. The light suddenly died and he collapsed in the dew slick grass. I rushed back to him as he just lay there, breathing deeply. ‘Thatcher!’ I called, his eyes picking up my tiny form immediately. Weakly he tried to get up but his body wouldn’t obey him. ‘T…’ He could barely talk. Body shaking he forced himself to kneel, lungs rattling like a tin can with a rock in it. ‘You woke me up t’ so…’ He spluttered.

‘Thatcher?’ I put a small hand on his knee.

He scooped me up. ‘Are you hurt?’ He managed to rasp.

I hadn’t really thought about that. My arms were still injured from the spider web not long ago, my legs were a little bloodied and patches of my skin were burnt where the seed exploded on me, but despite it all I was… okay. He was here. I wasn’t alone. ‘I’m fine, I- I thought you were dead…’ My voice shook.

‘Thanks to you I’m alive.’ He forced a weak smile with pale lips.

I dug into my pocket and took out a few nuts. ‘Here.’

He attentively took if from my hand and swallowed them. ‘Where are we?’

‘I think we’re near my home. I teleported us to my gerso as fate would have it.’

‘Tel’orted…?’

‘I…’ my voice turned fragile ‘used some of the snatchers blood. I had to! I had to save us!’

‘It’s okay Thea, if he killed me then…’ he immediately reassured my fears what I did was unforgivable.

‘What?’

‘He would’ve used my blood and become something much worse. Gods blood can do practically anything if verse in magical energies enough. Besides,’ he looked down at the black mark, ‘I nearly became something truly terrible.’

‘Will the mark ever go?’

‘No, ‘t’s as permanent as t’ past.’ He put a pale hand up to his chest. No heartbeat.

‘But you’re a God. Magical. There must be a cure.’

‘As much as a cure could ‘e if so’eone cut off your ‘rm. You can compensate but no, ‘o c’re.’ Silence hung in the air as I let him try to regain his breath. After a long moment he willed himself to say: ‘You’re not upset I didn’t tell ‘ou I was a God?’

I shrugged. ‘It wasn’t by business. But would’ve been a good conversation topic.’

‘Yes, a ‘ittle more interesting than ‘your favourite meat’.’

Silence settled down like the dust of the broken cave.

‘What do we do now?’ I broke the calm.

‘I can’t fight ‘im if such power can make a God mortal. But mortal or not divine blood is too powerful for ‘nyone to use. I could’ve beaten him if I was prepared for such strength, but I under’stima’ed him and now I surely can’t. I’d take me a few thousand years to recover, perhaps only one thousand if I slept...’ He swallowed painfully. ‘But I do have an idea of what could.’

‘Some sort of super weapon?’

‘In a way- a dragon. Even I would struggle against such a foe. Therefore, a dragon against the snatcher is a fight we can win.’

‘It would devour him in one.’

‘Exactly. If he was a blood-thief or not. Magic is mainly in the mind and dragons posses brute strength.’

‘Where could we find one?’

‘Dragons move in packs, hundreds at a time. You teleported us to your gerso, who were hiding in deepdepth tunnels. These tunnels are made by creatures which systematically follow the dragons to feed off their shedding scales and egg shells.’

‘So… we’re close?’

‘Very.’