“It’s perfectly reasonable to expect families to pay tax on members long since deceased. There is no telling how long they will remain that way.”
— Dread Emperor Inimical, the Miser
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Reality became more vivid as we stepped across the border between Creation and Arcadia. It was hard to put my finger on the precise details of what had changed, although some alterations were obvious. It was almost as if existence itself had been exaggerated. I knew that it was in my head — but I noticed that if I looked at the environment out of the corner of my eyes — I’d see the brush strokes that outlined this Winter wonderland. Hues had become more distinct. Lighter colours had become brighter, the shadows deeper.
“This air of this place is uncanny,” Roland murmured, then shivered as he glanced around.
I did much the same. Our three mounts stood in the middle of what must have once been a beautiful Summer meadow. Frozen sunflowers withered under a hoary frost. At the far end of the dying glade was a path paved out of the blackest stone. It beckoned toward us. A frosting of icicles clung to the naked pines on either side of the road, and a dense curtain of white fell beneath them. One which made the distinct lack of snow on the trail itself even more obvious.
There’s no lamppost, so not the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe — not that I expected as much considering the ghosts — but still.
“We were expected,” I declared while examining the sky.
A tempestuous vortex swirled above. Lightning shimmered across the clouds. I could sense the oppressive weight of Winter settling down upon my shoulders. I turned away from it and looked at the others.
“That appears to be the shape of it,” Roland puffed out a stream of mist as he murmured from the horse on my left.
“Remember the rules?” I asked.
“We all went through your stuffy preparation checklist,” Yvette mumbled.
“Then you remember? I repeated.
“Yes ma.” Yvette rolled her eyes at me, “all ten of them.”
I stretched my phantom limbs towards the sea of stars. I wasn’t surprised by what I encountered there. The immaterial pinpricks were present, but it was as if a veil had been cast between them and me. My mind strained against the ethereal boundary, only to find itself repulsed by a will harder than steel. The denial left me feeling uneasy, even if I’d expected as much.
“No leaving until this is resolved,” I warned. “The King of Winter has us trapped.”
“Then we have stepped into the lion’s den,” Roland dragged a hand through his shaggy, brown hair as he sighed.
“Examine everything,” I continued. “Every detail matters.”
Rule one: everything in this realm is part of a story.
I didn’t think the story we were in was a story that I recognized the intricacies of. At least, not without more information. It wasn’t bleak enough to be the Greek underworld. It was too much to hope for the Fae to have played into an Earth story rather than a Creational one. I’d done my best to learn as many of those as I could, but there were only so many hours in the day. It remained to be seen if they would play into the roles of any stories from my last life.
“It’s all essence, though,” Yvette muttered. “Immerse yourself in the Light,” she licked her lips, “it’s all a complicated tangled web of illusions.”
I focused for a few heartbeats. The surrounding glow intensified. For a moment, I glimpsed behind the curtain. The pines stood as frozen sculptures, their shadows cast on a road paved with ice. The world dulled as I dismissed the miracle an instant later.
“Doesn’t matter,” I countered. “The lie is the truth here.”
Pandora snorted from beneath me as I ran my fingers through her silky white mane.
“But-” Yvette sputtered.
“Taylor as the right of it,” Roland interrupted. “The smoke and mirrors will swallow all of us whole if we choose to ignore them.”
Yvette lips tightened for a few moments. She gripped her reins tighter, but still held her tongue.
“Come on,” I urged, “let’s see where this goes.”
“At least we can agree on that,” Yvette muttered and ran a finger through her golden hair. “Space is all bendy. It’s just as flexible as time here.”
“Exactly,” I smiled at her. “No point to avoiding it.”
We settled into an easy silence that was broken by the sound of hooves on the icy road. The glade fell away behind us like a scattering of Autumn leaves in the wind as we proceeded deeper into the woods. A harrowing breeze whistled through the trees. Taylor, the voice of Brian called out through Winter’s bite. I blinked, then shuddered.
It’s nothing more than a gentle breeze, Taylor. Even if the gentle breeze sounding like a voice from my past is part of a story.
“This journey saps at my thoughts,” Roland yawned an hour later.
“It what?” I inquired.
I glanced at my companions. Roland appeared worse for wear. Yvette’s emerald eyes also drooped. Her horse kept adjusting itself in an effort to keep her from falling off.
That’s odd. Is this some kind of enchanted forest?
Yvette reached into her pockets and muttered for a few heartbeats before pulling out a mirror. She scowled and put it back in again, then dug deeper.
“Dimensional pocket?” my fingers twitched against the reins as she pulled out the knife I’d made for her, “when did you make that?”
“A month ago,” her cheeks reddened as she turned away from me, “but it didn’t turn out well. The inside is an ugly knot that can’t be easily organized,” she put the knife away and pulled out a phial containing a silver powder that I didn’t recognize. “It always takes me forever to find what I want, and somehow animals keep finding their way inside. I’ve had to remove three lizards, a moth and a dove in the past week alone.”
“You’ll get better,” I encouraged.
Yvette’s eyebrows knitted together. She muttered a brief incantation before making broad, sweeping gestures. Her fingers danced. Golden symbols traced themselves in the air. She froze, pouted, then huffed. One of the symbols disappeared. She resumed chanting. There was a blinding flash a few moments later. Yvette and Roland both seemed to relax. Yvette smiled like a cat that caught the canary, then nodded to herself.
“The forest is designed to induce torpor,” Yvette explained. “See those trees,” she pointed ahead then behind, “they repeat every few hundred paces. We’ve not actually moved at-”
I felt a chill. It didn’t surprise me that I wasn’t affected, but it worried me that I hadn’t noticed that they had been under an enchantment. I needed to pay more attention. I didn’t want to lose anyone else.
“Look to the horizon,” Roland interrupted Yvette, and pointed up ahead.
I followed the trail of his finger. The tree line ended up ahead in the distance. I could barely make out the silhouette of a bridge crossing the glazed river on the other end. Half a dozen figures riding our way from the opposite side of the bridge. I squinted. First I observed them with my eyes, then I looked with the Light. A knot settled in my stomach.
Of course. Why wouldn’t the warping of space terminate now that we noticed it?
“Not enemies,” I guessed, “but they are expecting us.”
The Fae appeared as ghosts clad in formal black and silver ceremonial armour with open helmets when seen without piercing the illusion. They rode like shadows through a forest of mirrors. Their phantom horses flickered in and out of existence from one heartbeat to the next. I examined the beasts closer. The creatures possessed a regal bearing. I was unsurprised by how different they appeared when observed under the scrutiny of the Light. Six figures with horned helmets in scale armour of woven dead wood and obsidian, all riding shaggy unicorns. There was a snake-like cast to all their features.
“Those are the riders from the Wild Hunt,” Yvette’s voice oozed with scepticism. “You think they’re going to invite us for tea?”
It was their Dream that unsettled me.
Freedom, escape, an end to the cycle.
I’d never seen two people that all shared the same Dream, never mind six of them. The Dream was blinding in its intensity. The Fae loathed their very existence. Loathed it so much that they would do anything to escape the trappings of the narrative coiled around them. It occurred to me then that I hadn’t thought more about what it meant to be one of the Fae. They were bound to follow a cycle of stories. Trapped to repeat them again and again. Trapped, much like slaves. There wasn’t really a way to interact with them without forcing them to act against their own will.
The implications were horrendous.
“Seasoned with arsenic as well,” I agreed, “but I think they’re here as an honour guard.”
What’s the right thing to do?
I prayed silently while I considered the Fae and received a silent blanket of reassurance in reply. Was there a good way to interact with them? Was there a right way to end this cycle of conflict? I’d come into Arcadia thinking that I’d help one side win, then leave in the aftermath. I was still confident that I could do that, but I was beginning to believe that my first solution wasn’t the correct one.
“I doubt they mean us anything but harm,” Roland muttered.
I examined the Fae further, then reflected on my memories of them. There was a cast to their features. A shadow that I’d never seen on their faces before. They were serious about whatever role they were playing. It could’ve been an act, but both the reassurance of the Angels and my own intuition told me otherwise.
“Doubt it,” I dismissed his concerns.
The real question is what happens if I try to push them into one of the stories that I relinquished. Will they play the Role, or will they just ignore the attempt?
“It would be wiser to strike them down than risk becoming tangled in their web,” Roland cautioned.
I could tell from the raised pitch of his voice that he didn’t put much faith in my claim.
“Roland is right,” Yvette agreed with a curt nod while fidgeting with the hem of her robe.
“There’s no point to it,” I argued, “I can’t kill the King of Winter without the right story.”
And something tells me that sooner or later he’s who we’ll be fighting if we try to escape through force.
We drew level with the bridge. The Fae had halted at the middle of it. None of them had drawn their weapons. The comforting reassurance blanketing my shoulders suggested that they wouldn’t, either.
“I dislike the shape of this,” Roland pressed. “I’d rather meet them with steel and magic than play a puppet in their cosy curtain show.”
I gazed down at the ice as we ascended the gentle slope. Light and shadows skittered like cockroaches right beneath the surface.
“I don’t like it either,” I admitted.
It would’ve been easier if I expected the Fae would betray us. That was a familiar story, even if it was an unpleasant one. Conflict, violence, and backstabbing were what the Winter Fae had a reputation for. This was a new game they were playing. A game where nobody knew the rules.
Rule two: Only ask a question in exchange for a question in turn.
“Welcome,” all six of the Wild Hunt greeted in unison, “your arrival was anticipated.”
There was something eerie about how they moved. Everything was synchronized. It was like watching a theatre performance acted out by script. One that had been performed thousands upon thousands of times. It reminded me just a little of the faithful during sermons. That was to be expected considering the circumstances. Unfortunately, it didn’t tell me much about what I needed to know. The Fae hadn’t referred to me by Name, Role, or title. Any of the three would’ve given me at least a hint as to where I fit into the story.
Careful to thread the needle of this conversation. I don’t want to break the mould before I am aware of what’s inside of it.
“My companions are road weary,” I gave the creature a meaningful glance.
The Fae glanced from me to my companions. There was a brief flicker of emotion on their faces. A disdainful sneer that I would have otherwise missed without more than mortal senses. They weren’t pleased to go along with whatever this was, but they were doing it regardless.
“Rest assured,” the Fae replied, “we will see that you are untroubled for the remainder of your journey.”
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The six Fae approached. Both Roland and Yvette sent me a questioning glance. I gave them a subtle shake of the head in reply. We’d play along for now until I’d decided how I wanted to resolve this cycle of seasons. All of us formed up with the Fae as a retinue around us. Three on one side, three on the other. Roland rode in front of me and Yvette road behind. I was sandwiched in the middle of everyone else.
“The forest up ahead has unusual geometry,” Yvette commented.
We passed over the bridge and into the forest on the other side. It wasn’t long before I noticed that she was right. The trees appeared to twist and bend their bare branches towards us. They were like frozen hands grasping towards any who travelled the road. One of the members of our entourage clicked their tongues and the branches shied away.
“The Twisted Forest is one of the first traps faced by all those who oppose the advance of Winter,” the ghostly figure on my left explained.
Wait, they’re actually going to exposit if prompted? Honour guard might be wrong. Perhaps they’re filling the role of guides.
“Times as dark as these present many opportunities to those who are willing to step into the light,” Roland fished.
“So you have heard of our victory over Summer?” the spectral soldier on Roland’s right affected surprise. “It is true that our esteemed Prince of Nightfall seized the Sun in a glorious clash with the Princess of High Noon.”
Was that significant? It sounded like a piece of a puzzle that we were being handed. The trouble was that I was as good as blind and trying to solve it by touch. We needed more context. Winter was winning, but that didn’t concern me as long as the war stayed within the Fae. Accelerating their victory would only resolve our troubles faster.
Let’s see what I can learn without asking any questions.
“I’ve heard that there is freedom to be found in chaos,” I prompted.
“We have heard much the same, honoured guest,” the ephemeral rider to my left replied, “but it has yet to be discovered.”
“Our host appears well-informed,” I mused.
“He sees much and misses little,” one of the riders replied.
They won’t answer every question then. Only ones that fit the narrative they’re within. That, or questions that they want to answer. It’s difficult to tell.
“Every story has a first and last page,” Yvette interjected from behind me, “and there is magic in good endings.”
A city rose in the distance. One that defied all my preconceived notions of what a city could be. It was like someone had taken inspiration from the works of an artist high on at least fifteen different kinds of drugs and then elected to carve them into reality. Grand towers rose into the sky in the distance. I squinted. They appeared to shimmer in and out of existence depending on where I looked. Bridges of mist linked one tower to the other. The city walls became visible as we drew closer. Walls that were forged from the dark of midnight.
“Not all stories end on the last page,” one of the Fae replied in frosty tones.
The way he said the words made them sound like an oath.
So they haven’t discovered a loophole yet.
My fingers slacked. There was an ominous crackle as we passed through archways made of thunderstorms. We neared the city gate. Carved into it were images that composed stories when taken as a whole. I blinked. The stories that were depicted had shifted. My first glimpse of the city within took my breath away. There were buildings carved out of moonlight and roads of solid water flanked by street lights made of auroras.
“If heaven was carved from dead wood, ice and stone,” I whispered under my breath, “then Skade is what it would look like.”
I felt giddy. There were still sights which could take my breath away even years after arriving in Creation. I reached out and caught a leave fluttering in the icy wind. Stone, with the texture of life within it. My fingers relaxed, and the leaf fluttered away. I smiled and looked around again. Avenues of trees carved from ice with leaves of stone stretched out on either side of me. Their leaves rustled as if pushed by an imaginary breeze. The movement was as lifelike in their movement as any tree I had known.
“Is it a marvel?” one of our escorts countered.
I peered closer.
Not a speck of dust appeared out of place. There was something eminently off about the city of Skade despite that. Something that was hard for me to put a finger on. I gazed down an alley and blinked. The park of ice sculptures became a hotel carved into the face of a glacier. I wasn’t surprised. I’d already expected space to obey different rules. Was that what churned my stomach?
No, it’s not that. It’s something else. What am I missing? Look closer, Taylor.
“The fall of one curtain heralds nothing more than the rise of another,” Roland suggested while I mulled over the matter.
A stillness fell over the Fae then.
“The time of masks is drawing to a close,” the rider on his left replied.
A stillness stole over us as we proceeded through the city.
Oh, that’s what has me so unsettled.
It was the inhabitants. I’d been so enamoured with the architecture of the city that I’d missed the obvious. I dug in my heels and Pandora slowed. The rest of the procession followed suit. The sheer wrongness of Arcadia filled me.
How can a place so beautiful be simultaneously so horrifying?
Everyone was miserable. It didn’t matter where I looked or who I stared at. Oh, they hid it well. They affected a façade of nonchalance or even outright happiness. But no, under the mask they all hid a well of vitriol so deep for their own existence that their dreams scalded me merely to look at. I couldn’t spot any Fae who weren’t trying to escape the story of their own cycle of existence.
Not a single one.
And it manifested in a way that would’ve been comedic if I didn’t have the proper context.
I watched as a man with an elephant’s head haggled with a giraffe person at the edge of the road. An empty hourglass was traded for the sand it would hold. Futile. Pointless. Then my eyes fell on another pair that were trading a stack of blank pages back and forth for book bindings. Almost all the Fae were engaged in activities with no clear goal. It didn’t matter where I stared. A group of four inverted winged Fae were floating on my right. They were seated on chairs and drinking tea around an upside down table that bobbed in the breeze. There was no rhyme or reason to anything anyone did. It had been a long time since I’d last thought about computers or electronics. Watching the Fae flounder was like seeing a computer attempt to execute faulty code.
My breath froze.
“It is a pitiful existence,” the phantom on my right declared.
What story were we caught within? We arrived in a new world and were led by ‘spirit guides’ to the city of Skade. Roland and I had been involved in conflict with the Fae in the past. There was a possibility I qualified for the role of an abdicated princess or escaped prisoner. Roland would be some kind of rogue. What about Yvette? There were many possibilities.
“You don’t know the new stories,” I surmised.
It could be an old Creational story, but it could also be one from Earth Bet. I dismissed any stories from most of Africa or Asia. Not because it couldn’t be one of them, but because I didn’t know enough about them to judge. How about an Egyptian Creation myth? The story of Osiris? No, I didn’t feel like it fit. Norse mythology? Perhaps Odin’s Valkyries? None of them were women, but I wasn’t sure that mattered to the Fae.
I bet it’s a story from Creation.
“And yet we’re still bound to them,” he continued my thought.
Was their goal achievable without abandoning our own objectives? Yes, yes it was. In fact, it might be even better than that. We could shove a dragon through the eye of a needle if we played our hand right. We might hold all the cards because the Fae would simply give them to us. That might change if we became uncooperative.
I wasn’t feeling uncooperative.
“You’re experimenting,” I added, “trying to find a story that breaks your chains.”
The Fae didn’t care if they were caught in narrative traps like this because sooner or later the season would change. They’d have a better understanding of the new stories they were subject to each time that they began their cycle again. My heart broke a little then. They were happy, I realized. Happy — even while miserable — because now they had a chance to escape the endless repetitions of the seasons.
“Not all have elected to break from established patterns,” the rider elaborated, “only those who have adopted domestic roles during the present seasonal cycle.”
It felt like a hint of some sort. A piece of advice that I was supposed to use to solve the puzzle that was the Fae. Why were they being so helpful? I didn’t know any stories where the Fae tried to be downright accommodating. I stiffened. They knew that I possessed a greater understanding of the new stories than they did. They wanted me to solve their problem for them.
“I’ll do my best,” I promised sincerely.
I’d need a far more elaborate plot than the one I’d begun with if I wanted any hope of achieving the outcome that they desired. It was fortunate that I was certain the Fae were all more than willing to play along with whatever tale I attempted to weave.
No pressure, Taylor. You have an entire species relying on you for freedom.
“Your best is all that we can ask for,” the rider replied.
It wasn’t long before we arrived at the foot of a silver gate to a more opulent part of the city. More opulent than places that had already been so extravagant that I’d never seen anything so enchanting before. I’d have been gawking if my mind wasn’t elsewhere.
“We’ll leave you here now,” the rider declared. “Your host will be arriving soon.”
The six riders galloped off. The three of us sat on horseback in a silence that was broken by the whistle of the wind. Then, Roland turned towards me and narrowed his eyes.
“You promised to break them from the shackles of their story,” he scratched at his nose while he spoke.
The angry cries of a mob protesting my decision echoed out within his words.
“They’re slaves,” I stated.
The Winter Fae are — by nature — whimsical, haughty, dismissive and dangerous. Behaving that way was distinctly out of character for them, and how it must’ve rankled.
“They’re monsters,” he challenged.
“Because they’re forced to be,” I argued.
The denial felt forced. I knew that I was arguing for helping out a species where every member had committed atrocities. I knew that leaving the Fae trapped would likely be pragmatic. That wasn’t something I was prepared to do. Perhaps with time they had earned this prison, but it certainly hadn’t started that way.
“The Prince of Nightfall tried to trap you in a crystal sphere with thousands of other souls,” Roland pressed, “or have past circumstances slipped from your thoughts?”
I think that debating about whether the Fae deserve freedom in public in the middle of Skade when their restraints are already loose has got to be a novel form of ritual suicide.
“Look around,” I folded my arms and addressed them both. “Think it’s wise to argue here?”
Both of them glanced around for a few moments. The streets in this part of Skade were abandoned, and yet I’d bet there were eyes upon us.
“These words need to be said,” Roland shook his head.
“Roland’s right,” Yvette muttered. “Not all stories are darkness and trickery,” she sidled up beside me and laid a palm atop my shoulder. “They chose this for themselves.”
“Does that condemn them to eternal servitude?” I asked.
“They’re more essence than person,” Yvette retorted, “imagine the horror they would unleash should they be free.”
“They’ll do the same things if they stay as is,” I challenged.
“That is not an excuse to meddle with the nature of this plane,” Roland cautioned.
“Neither of you understand,” I dismissed, “the Fae will do anything to escape their current shackles.”
It was a far better idea for us to guide the nature of their freedom than to leave it up to somebody else to decide. The box was open, and the cat was alive. There was no returning it to the cage. It was best for us to keep it well-fed and happy rather than put it on the streets.
“That doesn’t excuse their past atrocities,” Roland argued.
“It doesn’t,” I agreed. “Asking them to redeem themselves would be cheap by their reckoning,” I licked my lips. “Besides,” I continued, “they want to be free from their seasonal cycle. I’m not even sure if I can free them from the narrative entirely.”
“Our goal is to change the seasons,” Yvette complained, “not to interfere with the metaphysics of the Fae Courts.”
Yvette would be my biggest supporter if she spent a heartbeat reflecting on what she just said.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I replied.
“Then why are you risking tangling yourself with a web woven by the Fae?” Roland challenged.
“We’re playing a game with all the cards face up and everyone at the table doing their best to help us win,” I explained. “At worst?” I shrugged, “we get what we came for. We could achieve far more.”
“That’s not true,” Yvette argued. “We could-”
“The Fae are trying to accommodate us,” I interjected. “We can’t turn away from this.”
Yvette was wrong. The outcome would be worse if we didn’t try to help them because then every single one of them would have reason to fight against us. The Fae were playing nice because they didn’t have a motive to be forceful. I’d realized after years of struggling against the consequences of my own actions that… it was stupid to give them an incentive to fight us if they were prepared to help.
“What of the story we are caught in?” Roland inquired. “You are ignoring that in favour of righting this perceived wrong.”
“I’m more aware of that now than ever before,” I shook my head as I replied.
A plan was starting to take shape in my mind. My mistake was in thinking there weren’t more than two solutions to the problem of the Fae Courts. There were far more answers than two of them. The challenge would be finding one that would work. Merging the two Fae Courts seemed feasible. So did the idea of splitting them into additional Courts, redefining the relationship of the Courts, or even utterly annihilating either one or both of them. I was spoiled for choice. Even if I wasn’t certain how achievable all of those choices were.
“If this was my idea,” Yvette said, “you’d argue against it.”
How about joining the Fae Courts through marriage? That felt like a sufficiently traditional Earth answer to this mess. No. Even if it worked, the idea left me feeling uneasy. It was the kind of story that sounded good on paper but was awful in reality. I wouldn’t be happy marrying the two Fae rulers unless I had the approval of both of them. Neither of them could consent to an arrangement like that because they were bound to stories. Actually, how about a divorce afterwards? No, I was thinking about this the wrong way. I didn’t even know if marriage would satisfy whatever arcane rules caused these complications to begin with.
That’s my first priority. Learn more about their restrictions, then determine what it will take to break them.
“Think of it as an experiment,” I changed my approach, “a chance to advance your understanding.”
Yvette bit her lower lip and furrowed her brow. A delicate finger played with her hair for a few heartbeats, before she at last replied.
“There’s a lot we could learn,” she conceded while running her fingers through her horse’s mane. “Perhaps something that could even help with my own projects.”
I averted my gaze guiltily.
It’s like stealing from a baby.
“Is the possibility of broadening your knowledge truly enough for you to set aside your qualms?” Roland sounded exasperated.
“Well…” Yvette trailed off, “Ma is the one with the strongest opinions on right and wrong. If she thinks this is the right thing to do, then it must be.”
“That is still-”
Roland’s voice trailed off as the sound of metal scraping against ice cut into our discussion.
I turned towards the silver gate.
Ice trained down my spine.
I knew that face.
I recognized that air of danger.
A pale skinned, one-eyed Fae with thin red lips stood tall on the opposing side. He was wearing a black coat with white lace and silver buttons, and a black silk blindfold covered the missing eye. The Prince of Nightfall stood with one hand pressed against a slender sword and another against the barricade.
“So, you were chosen,” the Prince of Nightfall sounded amused, “there is almost a symmetry to this. Isn’t there? Come now,” Arcadia shivered as he spoke, “your timing… is most fortunate.”