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Can dark become darker? Violet believed so as they descended into the tree. They flew down a long, straight tunnel, until they landed at the mulch-covered bottom. Their feet padded along the bottom into a labyrinth of wooden tunnels that twisted, rose, and turned left, right, up, and down. They traveled deeper and deeper underground through the tree’s root system. Esme held Violet’s hand and guided her down through so many different tunnels that Violet knew for certain she’d never find her way back on her own. Finally, a dot of light rose in the distance as they climbed up a small hill within the tunnel. Violet watched as the golden light grew larger and a room opened before her.
They entered a room dug from the dirt—a tidy spherical shape with torches crackling along the walls. At the back of the room, a woman sat on a throne woven from twigs and vines with two mighty faeries on either side.
Violet couldn’t take her eyes off the woman on the throne. She sat tall with her raven-black hair winding and curling around her body all the way to the dirt floor. Her ears poked out from under her hair, tall and pointed. Her eyes were as vibrant as the new clematis buds blooming in her mother’s garden, and her limbs bore lavender flowers painted on them in both gold and purple. On her head sat a wreath of wildflowers, all in white. Her skin reminded Violet of marble, white and spotless as porcelain. Her wings arched far above her head and seemed to glow with white light.
The three faeries who had brought Violet here stopped and bowed before the winged woman, but Violet simply stood and stared at her.
“Welcome,” the faery said, standing from her throne. Her voice flowed like cream from her rosebud lips.
The others lifted themselves back up and Violet stood behind them. She still couldn’t stop her whole body from shaking.
“Esme, Eowyn, and Baen,” she said, “you have returned, and I see you bring someone new. I know every faery that remains in my kingdom, but I do not know this young one.” She stepped towards them and the other three stepped aside. She stood at least a head taller than all of them. “What is your name, dear child?” she asked.
Violet only stared at her. The faery’s dark brows pressed together slightly, drawing lines in her forehead. Violet watched her heavy eyelashes bat like butterfly wings. Finally, Violet swallowed and replied, “My name is Violet Bennett.”
The creases disappeared from the faery’s forehead and she seemed to jar faintly. Her lips fell open in a small o as she stared down at Violet.
“Perhaps we should explain,” Eowyn spoke from behind her.
The tall faery turned sideways and smiled at Eowyn. “Yes, please share your story with us. But first, let us find a blanket for Violet; she seems rather shaken and cold.”
The male faery who came with them bowed and stepped off to the side where some chests lined the wall. Metal scrapped together as he unlatched the wooden chest and threw the top open. He pulled out a wool blanket and brought it over to Violet.
Violet hadn’t taken this faery in much until now. He had bronze skin and curly hair like milk chocolate that twirled wildly on top of his head. He stood much taller but not all that much wider than Violet. His wings were more angular and sharper, though still lucent and feathery. He wore a white tunic that came around his knees and dark pants that went down inside his leather boots. He smiled at Violet and wrapped the wool blanket around her shoulders. Violet felt a pulling sensation at her back, then remembered her wings. Panic started to rise in her again at the thought of them.
“You’ll want to fold your wings in,” he said.
Violet nodded and brought her wings in around her shoulders, surprised at how easy they folded. Then he released the blanket over her and stepped back.
“Please, dear Violet, have a seat,” the tall, purple-eyed faery said, putting her arm over Violet’s covered shoulders. She guided Violet over to a small wooden chair and sat her down. “Perhaps you should begin, Eowyn.”
All attention turned to Eowyn. She smiled and gave a small bow, though turning bright red. “Thank you, Queen Isla.” She cleared her throat then stood a bit taller. “I should note I wasn’t supposed to be there, and thank you for your graciousness in this, your Majesty. My brother wanted to show me the role—”
“Perhaps not the time for this, Eowyn,” the male faery murmured.
She nodded. “Right, so sorry. We were flying through the forest doing our nightly rounds. We had heard rumors of the wolves passing through again, seeming to be on the hunt. As we did, we came upon this human girl laying on the forest floor.”
“Human?” the queen asked.
“Yes,” Eowyn replied. “We’re not sure how she came into our realm.”
“You came to me,” Violet interjected. She raised her voice in hopes of speaking louder than the tremor that came over her. “I was hiding in the woods and you and your wolves came upon me.”
“Perhaps we have some explaining to do,” the queen said, reaching down to place a hand on Violet’s shoulder. “You have lived your life in the human realm, unaware of ours,” she commenced. “Our world lives alongside yours, though neither side is capable of crossing to the other—at the exception of those granted the ability by the Moirai Tree (the tree you are currently inside).”
They all stared quietly at Violet, as if waiting for her to speak. Violet kept her eyes down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had no idea that you all existed, let alone how to cross into your realm. But I do know that it was your faeries who turned me into faery as well!”
“To save you,” Esme replied to Violet curtly. Then she turned her attention back to the regal looking faery. “We watched her for some time, unsure what to do and wondering how she had come into our realm. Then we saw the wolf approaching. We cried for her to run, but it was too late. So, with what little magic we had left, we came together and cast her into a faery so she could escape.”
“I see,” the queen murmured.
“So now that I am safe, you must change me back,” Violet said, shifting under the blanket.
“I’m afraid that is not possible, dear child,” the queen replied.
“What do you mean?”
She frowned. “Lord Tarrowen, the one who works with those wolves you encountered, has steadily drained the magic from my people and our land. The mercy my faeries used in saving you would have depleted the last of their magic.”
“Then you change me, or someone who’s magic hasn’t been drained,” Violet said, standing to her feet.
Her dark, mauve eyes searched Violet. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s not a matter of each faery having their own reservoir of magic. Rather, we each share the magic collectively.” She paused and put a hand on Violet’s shoulder again. “None of us have the magic to change you back to your human form.”
“But I must go home!” Violet cried.
“You can no longer cross the realms, now that you are faery,” the queen said. “I’m sorry, but I promise you that what has happened to you is in your best interest—”
Something snapped in Violet. She pushed the faery queen’s hand off her shoulder and jumped back from the group of faeries huddled around her. “No! This isn’t fair! Why does everyone else get a say over my life other than me!” Violet walked backwards, putting her hands on the sides of her head. “This can’t be real, this must be a dream, I—” she felt hot tears stream down her cheeks and her breathing become rapid. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” she cried, stumbling backwards. As she fell backward, the world went black.
The boarding school’s groundskeeper walked into the dean’s office, ringing his leather gloves. How would he go home today and tell his wife he’d lost yet another job? And he only just got this one. He gulped and stepped through the slick, wooden door with the gold plaque.
The dean and the chemistry professor looked up. The dean frowned and motioned for the groundskeeper to come in.
As he softly closed the door, the dean said, “I’m assuming from your long face and empty hands that you did not find the girl.”
The groundskeeper swallowed again. “No, sir.”.
The dean groaned and leaned back in his leather chair. “We’ve looked half the night for this girl and the better part of the morning and have found no trace of her.”
“I suppose we’ll have to write to the parents,” the professor said.
“The girl’s father is one of great prestige—this will not go over well,” the dean replied. “This school will go bankrupt. And even if he doesn’t sue, our reputation will be run into the ground.”
“What do we do then, sir?” the groundskeeper replied.
He paused and his eyes shifted, as if he were listening. “We lie.”
“Pardon, sir?” the groundskeeper said.
“We will say she died of a fever in the night. We did all we could, called the best doctors we could find, but the girl died to our great distress.”
The groundskeeper’s mouth fell open as he stared between the two gentlemen.
“I see no other way, sir,” the professor replied, smoothing out his jacket.
“Langston—you will keep your mouth shut on this matter?” the dean asked, glaring at the groundskeeper.
How could he? The poor family, the pitiful girl lost somewhere in the woods and no one looking for her…
“If you can’t, you’ll be fired immediately,” the dean continued, “and I can’t imagine any reputable employer would want to hire a man who lost a young girl in such a well-guarded school.”
The words struck the groundskeeper. He clutched his gloves and put his head down. How could he lose another job?
“Yes, sir, I will not say a word.”
The dean smiled. “Wonderful. Now, let us all continue with our work. I’ll meet with the secretary and have the letter mailed out promptly. You’re both dismissed.”
The groundskeeper turned and shuffled out the door, and he did all that he could to ignore that aching feeling in his chest.
Want to see this novel become a printed book? Let me know! If I can get 100 people to say they want to see a printed copy, I’ll self-publish Violet’s story!
Self publish Violet’s story! ✨