1
Ivy
Vulpineeyesrushupfrom the darkness, framed by hair of deep russet red, and I finally see his face—green gold with horns like twisted tree branches. When I reach out my hand to touch him, though, he slips away, and my cries echo through the void.
Always so near, yet so far…
One day, I will reach him.
One day, I will make himmine.
As he fades into the darkness, his voice resonates, a gentle balm on my soul,“Forget me.”
I will never forget him, though.
He forever haunts my dreams.
I jerk upright, gasping for breath as I repeat the mantra in my head.It was just a dream; it was just a dream.
Yet as my mind adjusts, I spy a shadow in the corner of my room, and I stare at the apparition, transfixed.
It’s him—the Fae from my dream. I recognise the horns, theglowing eyes.
His voice echoes to me still,“Forget me…”
And then just like that, he’s gone.
Drawing a deep breath, I gather my bearings, reaching up to pat my clammy forehead. I could have sworn he was beside me, mere inches from my face. I felt the heat of his body and smelled the rich scent of his pine and woodsmoke.
I’ve had this recurring dream for several weeks, and I don’t quite understand. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there,hauntingme. My heart won’t stop pounding, even when I lie back in bed, trying to calm my erratic nerves. But all I can see is him.
They say the Fae are imperceptible to the human eye, yet they surround us every day, hiding in plain sight through various charms and glamours.
The only way to keep the Fae away is to position an iron horseshoe above your door or to adorn your house with rowanberries and pouches of salt.
But I don’t want to keep this faerie away; I want him close so I can gaze into his golden eyes. They’re simply mesmerising.
He’smesmerising.
I glance at the mural beside my bed. I painted it myself, and I think it really ties the whole room together. His likeness stares back at me from behind a birch tree, one claw exposed as he drags it down the white bark. His eyes shine as bright as they did in my dream, and when I reach up, stroking my fingers over the metallic gold that limns his cheeks, I smile. Most would consider him frightful, but to me, he’s merely exotic.
If only he were real…
Tearing my gaze away from the painting, I glance at the other side of the room. My ocean mural remains unfinished, but one day, I willfinish it. One day, I will get to see the real ocean and feel the spray of its fine mist on my cheeks.
A thump sounds on the stairs, and I turn my head towards the door. Bryce growls on the landing outside, raising the hair on my arms. That lovable mastiff is normally afraid of his own shadow, yet something has deeply unsettled him tonight.
I climb out of bed, untangling the sheets from my legs. It’s probably just a mouse, but I should still check.
Grabbing the knife that I keep hidden beneath my pillow per Papa’s request, I creep towards the door, holding the blade steady.
He fashioned the weapon in his forge several weeks prior, and I’ve kept it on my person ever since. But what need would I have for a knife? Nothing ever happens in Charstown. We’re safe here.
Still, I've been somewhat restless these past few weeks, ever since the faerie turned up in my dreams.
I open the door a crack, investigating the landing outside. All appears well. Bryce sits in a sphinx position, curling his upper lip. A low growl vibrates in his chest. He’s getting paranoid in his old age.
“What is it, boy?” I ask, kneeling down to pat his head.
