Warmth shrouded Emilia as she danced under a late spring sun. A Western wind blew over fields of solid gold and a bevy of children squealed and cavorted through the amber grasses. Over the tops of their heads, they held a figure swaddled in sheepskin, bearing a painted grin, and twin wings made from swigs and rough spun yarn.
As Emilia studied the doll — or idol — a translucent pink face turned to regard her with a wink and a outstretched tongue. An aspect in those eyes hearkened to a memory that tickled the back of Emilia’s head.
Singing songs in a strange language, the children deposited the object of their worship on a stump at the edge of their fields. Beyond that border lay a vast green wood, dripping with emerald moss and the promise of danger. The idol had many purposes, the most important of which was to guard this border, to keep the enemies of the children, mortal and otherwise at bay.
When the last of the children had lain flowers and bits of the first fruits of the harvest at the feet of the idol, she shimmered in the dappled forest light. One moment a dull piece of wood, leather, and wool sat inert upon the stump and the next a gorgeous nude woman flexed delicate feet and flapped her wings in the fading sun’s warmth.
She looked at Emilia, her gaze piercing Emilia’s skull. “Once, I was a goddess. Revered as the watcher of the harvest, the mistress of the lesser boundary, and protectress of the young. They showered me with gifts and swept the cobwebs from my wings.”
The woman, clad only in the flowers she’d been given, danced through the twilight and into the deep forest. Emilia followed, drawn on by the woman as if drawn by invisible forces. “As all children do, these grew old. Their traditions changed and the manner of my service did as well.”
Though they’d walked deeper into the forest, Emilia and the fairy emerged back into the field. It looked larger now, the stump where the fairy took her offerings now a major feature of the field. Wreaths, ribbons, and goblets of wine surrounded the careworn idol. Her wings had been upgraded to polished woodgrain, etched and stained with designs reminiscent of a butterfly. Children played among the field, and when they ventured too close to the edge of the forest, they ran back and touched the idol on the base of her wing. A century’s worth of such obeisance had marked the bottom of the wing with the oil from a thousand children’s hands.
“I still watched them, but now from afar. When they ventured too deep into the woods, all I could do was lead them back and pray that some errant beast feared my presence too much to take them.” The ephemeral fairy danced among the children, looking on with great concern when they raced too far away for her to stop them. “I indulged too much in their gifts, too much food, too much wine. After time I grew indolent and foolish.”
When Emilia turned around, the farm had grown incredibly, a half-dozen plots had sprang up with the ancient stump at their epicenter. Now the idol held a tankard in her hand and a bawdy smile upon her face. Her wings had once again been replaced, this time with large butterfly wings carved from wood and painted with a host of colors. Children and adults alike nodded to her out of respect and old women brought her gifts under the full moon, begging for grandchildren or the safety of those they already possessed. Where the fairy found milk left for her, she snuck into the home and cast her blessings upon the wombs and loins found there. Where her aegis was sought an the proper gifts left behind, she cast her simple magics upon the targets, ensuring they would never lose their way home.
But once again, she ceased to defend her borders. The night the invaders struck, the fairy was steeped in fresh milk, hovering over a couple doing their very best to make a grandchild for their beloved elders. Until the fires stared, the fairy did not even know her home was under attack.
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The invaders’ blades brought cold iron and foreign gods to her village. The fairy loved each of those beneath her care, and she had to watch as each of them died beneath the hands of strangers. All power to stop them lost now that she’d chosen a path of pleasure, none remained who could defend the village. Too afraid of the idol to strike it down while its faithful remained, the invaders finally turned upon her when the last of the fairy’s chosen were dead. They desecrated her form with the blood of their victims and turned their own gods loose on the fairy.
She suffered deprivations and abuse no goddess should suffer that night. As she lay abased and broken upon her stump, a true Goddess heard her cry. S’ha Ren-la Shen Tel Roh, the Twilight Queen of Morning Dew, answered the fairy’s dying wish, not to live and survive her kith and kin, but justice for those who dared defile her home. And, if possible, survival for even one of those the fairy had sworn to protect.
As the dawn light rose upon her village, the smoke cleared. The dead lined the streets, invader and native alike. A plague had swept through their ranks in the night, a curse they said, inflicted by the angry gods of the village. Few of the invaders lived through the night and those who did died under the scythes of the village’s angry neighbors.
The fairy found no solace in her vengeance, despite the pyrrhic victory. Not until a single group of children was found, huddled beneath the floorboards surrounding a tiny doll made from string and twigs. The fairy, Mir of the White Belle died that day. In the ashes of her pyre, Mirabel was born.
Upon the shattered altar of her former life, she swore she would die before she allowed another of her charges to pass without fighting with all of her might for their fate. With that realization, the world sped up around Emilia.
Mirabel swore her allegiance to the Fae Queen and followed her own charges through the countryside, ever watchful for danger that might strike them without knowing. She met many more fae, several of whom shared a sorrowful past. She met mortals, not of her flock who Mirabel loved and lost, to the ravages of nature and time. When the last descendants of her village passed away, the fairy Mirabel sat at her bedside and wept for her. Disease, not violence laid the old woman low, as if to reflect the curse Mirabel laid on those who’d burned her village.
With no one left to protect, the fairy devoted herself to the Fae Queen, serving her in whatever capacity she required. Mirabel stood guard at the borders when the first spell was cast to set the Sanctorum in place. To her ever watchful gaze was devoted an almost countless number of troubled students. Mirabel loved them all, and cared for them with the same intensity she devoted to those who’d first worshiped her.
Until Emilia died.
As Emilia’s soul tried to escape from her body, Mirabel faced the first failure of her second life. Only Gods, true Gods, could stave off death without consequence. And Mirabel had never been a God in the literal sense, merely a guardian and helpmate. That did not stop her from grasping Emilia’s soul and holding her back from the gates of death. But to do so cost the fairy girl her very essence, which blazed away as surely as if Emilia had Consumed it herself.
“You died for me?” Emilia stared into the eyes of a glowing fairy maiden, Mirabel’s face stared back through a haunting luminescence.
“No, you died. I refused to allow it to come to pass. I was forsworn, after all.”
“But it cost you your life instead of mine.”
“Did it? This may be a vision, a dream, but I feel very much alive right now.” Mirabel patted her chest and sides as if confirming they were solid. “If you ask me, we’re even-steven.”
“But…”
Mirabel dropped her face down close enough that a stiff breeze would have shaken her into Emilia. “But nothing. All that’s left is for you to awake and go save your demon master. Do it quick, I’m not sure how, but I can tell she is in danger.”
Rather than kiss Emilia on the lips, what she’d been expecting, Mirabel laid a finger on her lips and breathed into Emilia’s face. Petrichor, a wreath of flowers, and the smell of musk washed over Emilia’s face. Mirabel faded as Emilia blinked her eyes open.